Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,67
it was.”
“Oh, okay, then.” She looked stricken. “I thought you were accusing me.”
“I’m pretty sure it was some big mouth on the team. Though Foreman has already reached out to deny.”
“What are they saying?”
He passed his phone with the news article to her and watched as she scrolled.
“You’ve made a list of the greatest sportsmen to keep it in their pants during the season, though I find it hard to believe Tom Brady is on here. I’d be all over Giselle if I lived with her.”
He snorted. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. He would just have to “no comment” any questions at the next press bloodbath.
“My father won’t like it.”
“Sounds like your father doesn’t like anything. Oh, wait a second.” She scrolled some more. “Listen to this: Reid Durand has a female roommate, a situation, which while challenging, he uses to prove his mettle.”
“That’s not on there.”
“There’s more: Durand now spends so much time with his right hand that the circumference of his right bicep is three millimeters thicker than his left. Fascinating. And in metric measurements, too. Must be a Canadian source.”
“It does not say that.” He went to retrieve the phone but she deftly dipped away from him, so he rounded the counter and bore down on her. She held the phone behind her back which forced him to cage her in, his forearms on either side of her curvy, fuckable body.
“Maybe I’ll sell my story to the tabloids. Flexible dog-nanny slash roommate tells all! Reid Durand and his never-cold-enough showers!”
Okay, that was funny. “Give it back.”
“Or what?” She set her chin, her ruby-pink lips in a tempting pout. In outright challenge. The air churned thick with sudden—or not so sudden—sexual tension.
“You want to push a man this close to the brink?”
“Maybe.” She splayed the hand not holding his phone on his chest, right over his thumping heart. Her heat, her nearness, her scent … he was about to lose all semblance of control. Just step away.
Or move closer.
He could resist her. He’d already held her in his bed, hugged her when she cried, kissed her until he almost exploded. This should be child’s play, yet his hips had their own momentum. His cock was a heat-seeking missile, and there was no missing its intent.
Destination Kennedy.
She wasn’t sure how they got here.
You little liar. You know exactly the route you took.
One minute she was joking around with fake news, the next she had two hundred pounds of magnificent male all up in her space. The heartbeat of incitement in between had been all her doing.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, roomie,” he muttered. More like a growl, and she felt it deep in her core. Her mouth dried to dust, about the only part of her that could claim to be parched.
“Am I?”
The constant charge in the air for the last week since the make-out session was a powder keg ready to blow. This moment felt different, though. Like the burning fuse had almost reached its end, explosion was imminent, and not even MacGyver could save them. His breathing had picked up, evident in the lift of that magnificent chest, unfairly covered by a plain gray tee. His pupils were wider, flared with dangerous intent.
Whip fast, he grasped one wrist firmly. It didn’t hurt. Reid didn’t have it in him to hurt anyone but himself. Surprised, she dropped his phone on the counter, and now got the full effect. Reid Durand, a tower of energy ready to uncoil. Muscled back to the counter, she relished the edge as an anchor.
She had nothing else to keep her moored.
Provoking him was a mistake, though her body didn’t agree. Her body thought it was the best possible result if the fizz and bubble through her veins was any indication. Body, heart, soul, mind—amazing how these intimate parts of her could all have differing opinions on the same situation.
She didn’t have time to analyze further before Reid grasped her other wrist and brought both of them down by her sides.
With anyone else she would have demanded to be released. With Reid, she was fascinated. What would he do next? What the hell was going on inside that brain of his?
He watched her closely from above, his eyes flickering, a torrent of choices examined and abandoned. This must be how he played hockey. Making split second decisions to go this way and that, assess each play, shoot his shot.
“This is harder than you thought it would be, isn’t it?” he murmured.