Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,90

it, she needed to see everything from him as well.

“Reid.”

His eyelids snapped open, and in those pools, she saw relief, pleasure, maybe even affection. Dangerous to think it. Even more dangerous to rely on it. She recentered herself, drawing on her seduction skillset. On that detached version of herself that loved sex without entanglement, life without roots, the present without a thought to the past or the future.

“Hi,” she whispered. “Stay with me. Talk to me.”

“You want to talk?” The words sounded strangled, which made her feel more in control. She was seductress and healer.

“Yes. Tell me what you’re doing. How good it feels.”

“Of course Kennedy wants to talk. Of course she wants a blow—” He lifted her body and thrust up into her slowly. So slowly. “… by-blow …” He pushed deeper, with a stroke that consumed. “… account of how I’m fucking her.”

“Yes. I want to hear all of that.”

He clasped her hand and held it over his heart, intertwined with hers.

“You want to hear how you’ve been driving me mad? How I’ve had to stroke one out twice a day just so I won’t embarrass myself in front of you? How I hate when my brother and every single guy on my team talks to you and takes your attention? How I despise the smiles you give them because it’s one less for me?”

This wasn’t what she had meant at all. She wanted him to verbalize his desire; she wasn’t even expecting it to be focused on her. After all, any woman in the roommate situation would have made him break. Because it was there.

Wouldn’t they?

But now he’d started, she wanted to hear everything.

“Those smiles for them …” He stroked a special spot and oh, that was good. “… aren’t the same as what I give you.”

He moved inside her, finding another untested point of pleasure. “They’re not worthy to look at you, Kennedy.”

Her heart liquefied. She knew her self-worth but in a general “I am woman—hear me roar” sense rather than a Kennedy-is-awesome sense. No one spoke to her like this because she didn’t allow them to get close.

She would never have expected Reid to be the first. Surly, rude, irritable Reid.

She craved his voice. Not just to hear him say nice things about her, but to hear him speak. To hear what was going on inside his head. His heart. His soul.

“More,” she murmured, meaning the words and the hands. Meaning Reid.

He rubbed his nose against hers, and it shouldn’t have been a turn-on but it was. A turn-on for her heart.

“You want to hear how I’ve wanted you since the minute you walked into my apartment? Longer than that. Since the first day I saw you at the coffee shop. You were talking to someone and you laughed at something they said, and my pulse went boom. And believe me, I have the steadiest fucking pulse on the planet.”

All this time? Surely, this was just the heat of the moment. Her ability to smart-ass her way out of this conversation failed her.

“You know what you are, Kennedy?”

She might have responded with a what, but it came out as a moan.

“Five foot two of chaos. You waltz in, disrupt everything, turn my life upside down, and make everything crazy.” He stroked deeper, making her moan.

Making her feel.

Now that he’d started, he wouldn’t stop. All these words, made for her and her alone. “I belong here.” His hands tightened on her ass, fusing their bodies and souls together. “You’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Reid, I—”

He sucked on her lip. “Just let me imagine, ma belle. Laissez-moi rêver.”

She didn’t need to understand French to know what he was saying.

Stay with me. Love me.

It wasn’t her intention to change up his life but that’s what happened when atoms collided, chemical reactions occurred, and new substances were created.

This was what happened when you let yourself fall.

32

Reid opened up the computer to check on an idea he had for Kennedy’s Christmas gift.

Last night, his roommate had been amazing, and that was before she had climbed aboard him in his car. She knew exactly what he needed. Her. Only her.

Something was different about the sex, too.

It wasn’t just that she called him decent, kind, and big-hearted—labels he would never have slapped on himself in a million years.

It wasn’t just her defense of him, though that was soul-wrenching in itself.

It was how she clutched him when she came, like she never wanted to let go. Like he was the one person who could