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Last night was a success, though. I stayed up for another two hours after I talked to Tarrah on the phone. It was especially easy to reach my record word count after Elijah had riled me up.
I’d tried to act normal. Casual. Uninterested, even.
But inside, I’d been a molten mess of hormones and unsatisfied needs. Being as close as Elijah and I were last night while we had a conversation about penises was the most foreplay I’ve experienced in months.
Goose bumps erupt along my arms from thoughts of his body against mine last night. The faint smell of cigarette smoke on his breath, mixed with the spice of his cologne, was intoxicating.
My celebrity crush had been close to kissing me, and had Tarrah’s incoming call not interrupted, I would’ve let him.
But it would’ve been stupid. Reckless. And oh, yeah—stupid.
No matter how delicious it might’ve been.
I swallow a large gulp of water, the last drop sliding down my dry throat with relief as it cools me off.
Coffee—I need coffee.
I set the glass on a Friends-themed coaster on my nightstand and wiggle my toes to wake them up. Grabbing a fistful of covers, I slide out from underneath and drop my feet onto a fuzzy gray rug. It was the newest addition to my bedroom after the white one had been too prone to dirt. What had I been thinking getting white, anyway? I knew better.
This is the mundane thought I have as I step out of my room, but one look at Elijah in the kitchen looking the exact opposite of ordinary makes me freeze.
In college, I thought my Spanish classmate Blaine Lancaster was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. He was tan year-round like the beach was in his backyard, and his clear blue-green eyes were always smiling.
Blaine even seemed to enjoy the speech we had to give in Spanish for our final assignment. He struggled, as most of us did, but he smiled through the entire thing. Too distracted by his level of hotness, I only recognized two words—the one for cat and another for house—but I still would’ve given him an A+ had I been the professor.
If he wouldn’t have been in a serious long-distance relationship, I would’ve been inclined to be so bold as to ask him out.
But Blaine Lancaster is complete garbage compared to Elijah Hastings. In a lineup next to the tattooed rock star, Blaine would be the equivalent of a stain on my shirt or gum stuck to my shoe.
My new roommate is bare chested in the middle of my kitchen this morning, seemingly domesticated, but the air of danger and heat follow him with terrifying ease from the cabinet to the coffee pot, setting him so far apart from any real guy I’ve ever known.
Fully-clothed Elijah Hastings is a sight to behold, but half naked? Now that is outrageously sexy.
As I float to the counter, he silently sets a mug with the perfect color of creamer to coffee ratio in front of me and turns around. How did he know this is how I drink it?
That’s actually… thoughtful.
“Tarrah mentioned your new band,” I start, then blow gently through the steam rising from my cup. I’m not nearly as up-to-date with his current musical situation as I was when Fusion Bounds was around, and I’m suddenly curious. “Do you like playing with them?”
He gives me a small shrug. “I like it enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“To keep playing.”
His answer is simple, but so much lies in what he doesn’t say. That’s what makes him such a fascinating songwriter—he says so much in so few words.
“So, writing, huh?” Elijah twists his lean frame to rest a hip on the edge of the counter. As he does, the waistband of his low-hung jeans slide just an inch lower to reveal deep gray boxer briefs. I stare so long that I actually make out the name Calvin Klein written across the top in black letters.
“Pumpkin?” He tilts his head to meet my eye level and waits expectantly, his coffee cup raised to his chest with comfort.
He seems so relaxed, but my lungs struggle for every breath.
I shrug, and a strange hum-slash-snort releases from somewhere in my throat.
The ass smirks from his side of the kitchen.
As I desperately try to ignore the embarrassing fact that he caught me nearly drooling for him, I take a sip of my hot beverage.
