The Play Mate (Roommates #2)

She hadn’t meant to tell me. It had come out in a drunken ramble on the night of her twenty-first birthday. Cullen and I had taken her out, and she got plastered after sucking down her weight in sugary Sex on the Beach cocktails. I probably should have stopped her, but it was a rite of passage, and I wasn’t about to be a killjoy. Besides, it was kind of fun to see her taking risks and being a little wild for once.

She’d spilled her guts in more ways than one that night. The only saving grace was that she didn’t seem to remember most of it. I’d thrown a little test her way when I’d mentioned the drink to her at dinner tonight, and she didn’t even flinch. Probably for the best. She’d wound up hunched over the toilet at the local bar with me holding her hair. If she knew how the night had ended, I was sure she’d be mortified.

I shoved away the oddly fond memory and yanked the sheet down to my waist, feeling suddenly overheated. No more thinking about Evie. I was in town to do a job, and I wasn’t going to stop until it was done. Anything else was a distraction I didn’t need.

I closed my eyes, but my muscles were still tense. Eventually, though, the drinks and the jet lag caught up with me. My mind drifted, and soon enough, my eyes slid shut. The stress of the day faded away, and I could almost feel myself slipping into dreamland.

The sound of water tickled my ears, luring me from darkness toward the lake I’d dreamed of on the plane. I stood at the water’s edge, bathed in moonlight, when a naked Evie emerged.

Her breasts were high and full, her waist nipped in and trim enough to span with my hands . . . hands that itched to touch her. She moved toward me, closing the distance between us. Her smile was sweet but a little wicked as she reached out and wrapped those lean, elegant fingers around my throbbing cock.

I bucked forward and groaned, arching my hips into her tentative grasp. Fuck, yeah. No guilt here. Only a wizard could control their dreams, and I was nobody’s wizard.

Her grip tightened as I laid my hand over hers, urging her to work my shaft up and down in long, slow strokes.

“Jesus,” I growled, reaching up to fist my hand in her hair.

It was that . . . the sound of my own voice, that brought me fully back to consciousness. The pond and naked Evie in the moonlight were gone, but the hand on my cock? Still at it, and doing a fine fucking job.

Francesca.

A slow smile tugged up my lips. She must have figured out a way to bribe the front-desk clerk to let her into my room. It was a ballsy move, but I didn’t hate it. Especially now, as she straddled my thighs.

I’d heard that French women were more sexually forward.

Viva la France!

Totally not how I’d expected to end the night, but I’d gone to bed all keyed up and could use the release. No chance I’d be kicking a gorgeous woman out of my bed, whether she’d broken some laws to get in it or not.

I reached up and spanned her waist in my hands, letting out a groan as I realized her skin was bare. It was too dark to see, but my fingertips were doing a fine job of cataloging what my eyes couldn’t.

“You’re killing me,” I muttered. Now that I’d released her hand, her strokes grew tentative, more languid, and the need for more was clawing at me hard. “Tease.”

Her breathy laugh was more like a gasp as I let my fingers trail up her sides to brush against the underside of her breasts. Strange, I had remembered them being larger. Almost too large for her body, but as I cupped her tits now, they felt just right. The full, soft globes fit perfectly in my hands, her nipples taut in my palms as I caressed her.

She moaned softly under her breath, the sound almost like a relieved sigh. The motion of her hand increased as I plucked one nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Her hips started rocking against my thighs, and her breathing grew choppy.

“So responsive, just how I like it,” I managed through gritted teeth. “That feel good, baby?”

She moaned a noise of affirmation, and that was good enough for me.

“Now, stroke that dick, sweetheart,” I said on a groan.

Her careful strokes were torture. She wasn’t going to hurt me. In fact, I didn’t mind when sex got a little rough.

I released her breasts and removed her hand from my shaft. After placing a wet, open-mouthed kiss against her palm, I wrapped it back around me, groaning when her grip tightened possessively and pumped again.

I sat up, and her scent surrounded me. It had been more cloying at the restaurant. Now, though, she smelled sweet. Like hotel soap and something citrusy. I buried my face into her neck and breathed deeply before closing my teeth over the spot where her pulse fluttered wildly.

“Mmm . . .”

She released my cock and pressed in closer, curling her arms around my neck and resting her forearms on my shoulders.

I nibbled and sucked, reveling in the feel of her soft chest crushed against my hard one.