I let myself wallow in my self-pity for all of two seconds before I shake the thought away because while he might be nice to me, it’s definitely not all he’s doing. He’s become progressively more hands-on the last few weeks, going so far as to kiss my cheek and forehead every so often, leaving me a grinning, giddy mess.
Pushing myself up on the bed, I look around the room. I’ve never been in one of the rooms in the dorm. It’s bigger than I thought it would be, with a large window next to the bed and two doors, one to leave and one to what I assume would be a closet.
There’s not much here in the way of stuff, just the bed I’m on, a dresser, a thin bookcase, and a bedside table all in dark wood that might be brown or black; it’s impossible to tell in the low light.
The main lights are off, but fairy lights and other old-style lights hang from the ceiling and bed frame. Even with the black curtains and the fact that it seems too early for the sun, I can see, even if just a little bit.
The only color is the bedding; it's green, a deep forest green that makes me feel like I’m in nature. And there are potted plants everywhere, some with flowers, some that vine and hang from the window, the bed, and the doorways. Literally anywhere they can.
It’s beautiful, but simple and a lot less personable than I thought it would be. If you told me it was Titus’s room or even Gavin’s, it would make more sense. Julian just has so much personality that I felt like his room would too, maybe rainbows or a disco ball—something.
As if the universe knows what I’m thinking about, the man in question walks through the door, and holy shit.
I’d seen Julian shirtless that first day when he snuck into the bathroom while I showered, but this time he's not only shirtless but wearing averylow-hanging towel.
I should look away; it’s the right thing to do, and probably the smart thing, but I can’t bring myself to actually do it.
“You’re drooling, love.”
Honestly, it wouldn’t be that crazy if I were because, damn.
Julian is always pretty, but something about him, like this…
His blue hair is dripping wet, making it look darker, and his eyes pop. Water drips down his chest, and I have the urge to follow the drops with my tongue. And his tattoos!
He moves through the room, dropping the towel he’d been drying his hair with as he reaches his dresser and pulls something from it. I can’t be bothered to look at what it is, though, not when he turns and I get to see the lean muscles that sculpt his back and, you guessed it, more tattoos.
Most of his pieces are big, bright, and colorful, but they swirl so flawlessly from one piece to the next that it’s hard to know where one ends and the next begins.
“You should really stop looking at me like that, Wren.” His use of my name snaps me out of my ogling, and I look up to find himwatching me over his shoulder, his gaze intense as he watches me sitting in the center of his bed, tracking his every move.
I wonder what I look like to him.
Probably a hot mess. I’m not usually one to wake up ready to go, but my braid is still in, so maybe it’s not so bad. He doesn’t seem to hate what he sees if his burning gaze is anything to go by.
“And what if I don’t?” The question is out of my mouth before I can think it through, and I’m torn between being mortified and proud of myself.
Embarrassment wins, and I feel my cheeks heat as his brows shoot up in surprise.
I expect him to snap back. Julian is witty, and his tongue is sharp. I never know what he’s going to say.
Ordoapparently, because instead of responding with words, he simply lets his towel drop, and, like it or not, my eyes are drawn to the movement.
Damn, okay like it is the only real option here.
His ass isn’t tattooed, but it sure is toned. I’ve never thought a man's ass would be attractive, but Julian found a way.
I feel his gaze burning into me as he moves to step into boxers, but I don’t care. If I’m only going to get a moment with his fine ass, I’m going to commit it to memory.
Living with all these guys is getting harder by the day. I told myself I would ignore them, but it seems I’m not capable of it; if anything, I’m doing the very opposite.
Julian has been testing me since day one, and honestly, I’m not sure I want to resist anymore.
With his boxers on, he turns, and I roll my bottom lip under my teeth as I spot his very obvious bulge while he stalks toward me.
He doesn’t seem the least bit ashamed, and while I might be a virgin, I’m not stupid; Julian has every reason to be smug.
His dark chuckle makes me shake myself, realizing I’ve been very obviously staring at his junk for an indecent amount of time… is there a decent amount of time?
