Page 2 of A Bossy Roommate
“Fenfitivefeeth,ouch, ouch,” she mumbled. She scrunched up her face, wiggled her head, then closed her eyes, and finally swallowed. “Oooh my gosh…ohh, this is amaaazing,” she moaned softly.
“It is?” I asked, thinking the sugar rush was going to hit her hard.
She opened her eyes. “You should try some.”
“No, thanks, I’m good with my coffee.”
She persisted, holding the cone out toward me.
I shook my head. “Really, I’m good.”
“Let me guess. You never indulge, you never do anything forbidden, anything fun. You prefer to stay strong and focused, not wired on sugar.” She waved the cone, still offering me a bite. “Last chance. What? You worried it’ll kill you?”
That was when the cone toppled over and dropped directly into my coffee, splattering the ice cream and the contents of my cup all over the table. A few small droplets landed on my dress shirt, but the dark gray fabric concealed any mishap. Luckily, I’d left the coordinating tie with lighter patterns I’d been wearing all day in my motorcycle case. My blue jeans got a few splashes—however, they were barely noticeable.
The young woman snort-laughed, catching me off guard, and then she grabbed a napkin. It was a full-bodied sound. She found it funny? What the fuck? “Oh, no, I’m so sorry! But bullseye!” She kept laughing and dabbing at the almost non-existent wet spots on my shirt. Something odd rippled through my chest.
“That’ll teach you.” She continued dabbing my pec. “Next time, just take a lick.”
She didn’t seem to take life too seriously. I didn’t budge, letting her do her thing, watching her. What was a girl like her even doing here? She was still dabbing at my chest as I observed her green eyes, her hand proceeding to my arms, back to mypecs, wiping down my six pack, from there to my belly button, continuing to my belt, going lower toward my?—
“Whoops.” She seemed to come to her senses and quickly moved her action away from my body to mop up the actual spill on the table.
Her cheeks were pinker. She released a giggle-snort.
I kept watching her.
“Well, that was a…sticky situation.” She shrugged her shoulders, which were almost bare except for the thin straps of her dress, leaned over to put the drenched napkins to the side, and sat back down. “I’m pretty sure this means we’re officially dating now.” She crossed her legs, forcing the hem of her dress to ride up, revealing her smooth, creamy thigh and narrowing her eyes at me expectantly.
“Oh, are we?” I asked, sliding my phone into my pocket.
“Yep. When am I going to meet your family?”
“First, let me get you another one,” I offered, about to raise my hand to the barista for a refill of her almost-empty cone (that she’d been holding on to during the whole thing. Obviously, she had priorities).
“No, thank you! I’m good. Maybe I should stick to coffee.” She bit into her waffle cone and took a tentative slurp of the remains, savoring the flavor.
I glanced at my watch. “It’s almost ten. This place is closing. I know a bar not too far from here.”
“A bar? Are you asking me out for a drink? Just like that?” She grinned, looking up at me with those big bright eyes. “Well…that depends,” she challenged, not giving me time to answer, taking another bite of her cone.
“On?”
“Depends on what you expect to happen if I agree.”
I leaned closer. “No expectations. Only a guarantee.”
“Which is?”
“That you’re in for one hell of a ride.”
A flush came across her cheeks, and her eyes grew huge at my suggestive invite. She swallowed. Her gaze was almost frozen on me, her grip loosening on what little was left of her waffle cone.
This was the moment I knew. There was no doubt in my mind that we were going to end up naked and sweating in the sheets.
“I could use a good ride.” Those piercing green eyes pulled me in as she pushed the last bit of cone into her mouth.
A tidal wave of desire ricocheted through my being, straight down to my dick. “I bet you could.”