Roommates Page 3

  My whole body tenses.

  “Sweetheart, my gaydar is never wrong. Why haven’t you told him the truth?”

  I size her up, wondering how much to divulge. “It’s complicated.”

  “You’re not doing him any favors by pretending you are straight right now. Man up and tell him the truth.”

  My skin flushes hot at the thought of going back there and into a dressing room with him. Why is he even in one? "I'm not sure your other customers would appreciate two dudes in a dressing room."

  "This is our dead time. He thinks I’m picking out lingerie to try on for him and giving you my phone number. You’re both ridiculous. Go talk to him.”

  I pull the collar of my T-shirt away from my neck because it feels like it's choking me. The walk to the dressing room feels like the Green Mile, and I cough lightly and tap on the door. "Becks? Uh, Leslie sent me back here. You need anything?"

  He opens the door and my heart stops.

  “Where’s Leslie? Did she already give you her number? I was supposed to watch.”

  I can’t do this anymore. I push in and close the door behind me.

  “Beckett, I’m gay.”

  I can’t believe I’m coming out to my roommate in a women’s lingerie dressing room.

  He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He closes it. Tries again. “Wait, what?”

  “I’m gay. I don’t like girls.” I add, “That way.”

  “I...I...didn’t know. I just assumed...wait, did Cameron know?”

  “Yeah. Cam knew.”

  Beckett gets a look on his face that would break my heart if I had one. “He didn’t know about me. I’ve wondered how he would have reacted. I didn’t come out until after he died.”

  This I can help him with. “Cameron loved you. And all he wanted was for you to be happy. To have a good life. He wouldn’t have cared.”

  I hope he believes that. Cam never gave two shits about my preference for dick.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Are you in the closet?”

  I shake my head. I was never in the closet. Not really. “I didn’t want you to feel intimidated. It seemed easier to just go with it when you assumed I was straight. That way you would feel comfortable being cooped up in the condo with me over the summer. Since I’m alpha and you’re omega.” I take a deep breath. “This doesn’t change things between us, I hope. I’m not going to cross any lines. You know that, right?”

  “Because I’m not your type. Yeah, I understand.”

  He’s staring at me, but his eyes look like they aren’t really seeing me. I feel like he's upset. He doesn't actually wish...?

  No, man. He doesn't. I'm just thinking with my cock. Trying to justify the way I want him.

  “I’m not anyone’s type.”

  “That’s not true. We just...don’t make sense. I’m not the kind of guy you’re looking for. And we’re roommates. That makes things complicated. Not to mention Cameron.”

  His jaw squares, and he turns his back to me. In the mirror, he’s got his gaze locked with mine like a tractor beam from Star Trek. I'm not sure I have the kind of strength required to disengage.

  “So I guess this changes our plan of attack then, yeah? We can stop playing this little game, and you can just go with me to a gay bar tonight and show me exactly what I need to do to get laid.”

  Does he have some sort of killer instinct? Talking about other men getting to be with him when I won't?

  I take a step so that I'm directly behind him, but not touching him. Just a breath of space between us. His sugary scent teases me, but his eyes are locked with mine in the reflection. The tension weighs down on us like the air before a storm breaks.

  From the corner of my eye, I can see his chest moving rapidly, like he's breathing fast and shallow. He gets this look. This knowing look and suddenly, I’m the one who’s breathing too fast.

  “So, if I wanted a guy just like you, but not you, to be interested in me, what do I need to change?”

  The sassy little brat knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s not nearly so naïve as I thought. As soon as he learned I was gay, I think he knew, instinctively, that the reason I didn’t tell him wasn’t to protect him. It was to protect me.

  He knows he’s got the box of matches in his hand, now. But how badly does he really want to start this fire? Because I’m barely a spark away from inferno.

  "You don’t need to change; you're perfect," I tell him. He starts to disagree, but I splay my hand over his abdomen and yank him against me, letting him feel how hard he's made me. He gasps. "Don't argue with me. When a man like me compliments you, you say 'thank you.'"

  His eyes go wide at the sudden change in my tone, but he whispers, "Thank you."

  Oh man. The way he submits so fast ratchets up my desire.

  And that's it. I'm fucking tired of fighting this. Fighting him. Fighting fate.

  But I'll play his little game, if he wants.

  "You really want to learn how to seduce a real man, Becks?" My fingers flex and curl over his stomach. "You want me to teach you, teacher?"

  He nods shyly, our gazes still locked in the mirror.

  "You need to tell me then. Tell me what you want. I want to hear the words on your lips."

  "I want—" he starts but has to clear his throat. "I want you to teach me how to seduce a man like you, Matthew. I want to know how to get a guy like you into my bed. How to keep him there." He might be shy, but I don't know if my assessment that he's naïve was ever right. It seems like he knows what buttons to push on me. "I want you to help me lose my virginity."

  His words are revving the engine inside me, getting me ready to take my foot off the brake and do what I've been dreaming of since I moved in with my sexy roommate. His body is tempting me, all his hard planes begging to be marked by my callused hands, my stubble, my cum. But it's his eyes that make me craziest right now. I could get lost forever in them. They're full of wonder and a little bit of fear.

  I like that. Maybe I'm a dick for getting off on that. But I like that honeyed fear in his expression a little too much. I spent so many years protecting him, never knowing I'd be the biggest danger he faced.

  He's trembling against me, sending little sparks up and down my body wherever we touch. He makes me burn so good, so hot.

  I rest my chin on his shoulder, my other hand stroking down his arm leaving a trail of goose bumps wherever it sweeps across his skin. "If we do this, no more of this mall shit."

  "Do what?" he asks.

  "I'm going to teach you everything you need to break a man, baby."

  He arches his neck a bit, and I can't tell if it's a subconscious move or if he knows he's driving me crazy. But I can't resist and lick his skin. His body tightens then goes slack, like I've turned his bones into Jell-O with the touch of my tongue.

  I can't pull back the groan as it escapes my throat.

  "I don't want to break a man, Matthew. I want to marry one."

  I swear I start leaking pre-cum when he says that. Fuck. I should leave him alone. He wants a husband. A fucking groom. A baby daddy. And the very thought should have me running back to the safety of an oil rig. But instead, it sets off a primal drumbeat in my heart that echoes through my whole body.

  Marry. Husband. Groom. Baby. The words should be a mood killer to a man with no intention of ever getting shackled, but instead, I see an image of him in a tuxedo, and I want to fuck him more than I want to breathe.

  "Break him first. Then you can do whatever the hell you want to him, and he won't fucking care."

  He's got this serious look on his face, like he doesn't think he has the power. Like he doesn't have me wanting to tear out of my own skin because it's so tight on me. Constricting.

  I grasp his arms roughly and pull him into me hard, my erection poking him, showing him with my body what is difficult for me to say. His eyes take in the whole picture of us in the mirror. I can't hide my predatory gaze or the lead pipe in his back.

  It's going to
o far. Getting too close. There's no way he won't see everything I want to hide.

  We hear voices getting closer, and I remember where we are.

  He leans back further into me. "I promise I'll do whatever you say if you teach me how to seduce you."

  "A man like me, you mean."

  "Of course. A man like you."

  I spin him around, holding him by the shoulders as he jerks his chin up. My mouth is about to go crashing into his. I'm already anticipating the sweet flavors of his lips. I bend down, a trace of air between our mouths.

  "Matthew? Beckett? My coworker's lunch is over, and the store is getting busy." Leslie's warning pierces the lusty thoughts I'm having, and I set Beckett a foot away from me.

  Beckett stares at me for a second before answering Leslie. "Okay, thanks."

  The beast inside roars his displeasure, but it's for the best. I need to help Beckett figure this shit out and move on because I am not the kind of man he needs. He wants a groom. A husband. A life filled with children.

  All I can offer him is a lot of going nowhere at top speed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BECKETT

  After things got so heated in the dressing room, I wasn't sure what to expect. I think he would have kissed me if we had another thirty seconds of time before the interruption.

  But Matthew returned to normal by the time we got home. No more growly, domineering hot alpha. To my utter and complete disappointment.

  I don't want to act like nothing happened, but my pride is insisting that I don't show him how much he affected me. I can't deal with the rejection and still live here in this house with him. So, I'll just pretend the rejection isn't happening. That nothing out of the ordinary is happening. We're just roommates. Friends.

  I still can’t believe he is gay. My crush is gay, and I didn’t even know it. No wonder I’m having a hard time dating. I have zero gay instincts. I wish there was a manual or something.

  And it doesn’t escape my notice that he chose not to tell me until he was literally cornered in a small dressing room with me. He can say it was for my benefit, so I wouldn’t feel awkward or intimidated by him. But I think he just realized I had a crush, and if he gave me any straw to grasp at, I would. Obviously, he was right.

  I'll figure out my guy problems without him. It's what I should have done to begin with. No more fantasizing about the hot guy I live with. No more pretending he's mine. No more remembering how hard he made me in the dressing room. How hard he was in there, too.

  I'm changing strategies. Instead of having Matthew help me get to date number three with a man so I can sleep with him and lose my virginity, I’m going to just go out and get laid tonight. Maybe once I cross first-time sex off my bucket list, I'll be able to concentrate on meeting someone with relationship qualities because my lack of experience won't be hanging over my head. I was wrong in thinking that it should mean something and to wait for the right guy. I am holding myself back. Someday, I'll have sex with someone I love, I hope. I still want to find my future husband, if such a man exists. Find out what it feels like to have a child of my own growing inside me.

  But tonight, I need to have sex with someone willing and able, and not worry about what Future Beckett wants. I have to stop hoping for what isn't going to happen with Matthew, too.

  I slide out of my room quietly, hoping he's still napping on the couch where I made him rest his foot after walking around the mall.

  "You're walking like Elmer Fudd when he was hunting wabbits." Matthew's voice startles me as I'm reaching for the doorknob. "Are you sneaking out for a reason?"

  Yes, I'm sneaking out because I don’t want to face him. So much for that plan.

  I turn. "I wanted you to rest. I left a note for you on the fridge."

  He stretches, his massive arms reaching into the air, and his heavily lidded eyes are so sleep-sexy that I wish I could curl up with him and join him in a nap. Or other bedtime activities. But no. Not going there. Not thinking about that. Not anymore. Not after he treated me like someone he could worship in front of that mirror and then turned it off the minute we left the store.

  It's humiliating, really.

  "Where are you going?" he asks.

  "Out."

  He raises his eyebrows. So I lift my chin in defiance. I don't have to tell him where I'm going. He's not my keeper.

  "You have a date or something?"

  I'm tempted to tell him yes, just to see if he gets jealous. But I won't. We are done playing games. "I'm going out with friends. I'll probably crash at Jenn's, so I'll see you tomorrow."

  His demeanor changes. Tenses. His face goes stone cold. "What's going on?"

  "Nothing."

  "You're acting weird."

  "I'm really not. Just going out. Wicket is playing at The Dive, and I've told you how much Jenn likes to watch her boyfriend's band play live."

  He stands up, testing his foot. "You've told me Jenn likes to make sure nobody hits on her boyfriend at Wicket's shows."

  I smile. "That too." We don't say anything for a beat too long, making it super awkward. I hate this, the way things feel weird between us. I wish I hadn't had a taste of what it feels like to be wanted by him. It makes the absence of it ache in my heart.

  "You want me to give you a ride? I can pick you up so you don't need to worry about driving."

  "No, that's okay. I'm meeting Jenn at her house, and she's driving tonight. I'll just crash there..." Or somewhere else, maybe, if all goes according to plan. It's harder to imagine going someplace with another man when Matthew is right here in front of me. But that's exactly why I have to do it. I can't keep pretending he's mine. He barely said two words to me before his nap. And now I dread whatever he might say because it obviously isn't what I want to hear. I need to let him go.

  "About today..."

  I hold my hand up. "It's okay. I understand."

  "You do?"

  I nod. "We got carried away. It was emotionally intense because my brother is dead and I never got to come out to him, but you did." I'm making it so easy for him to reject me without hurting my feelings. "No harm, no foul though, right?"

  "Becks..."

  "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow. I took a casserole out of the freezer. You can just pop it in the oven."

  "Becks..."

  I pause, but he doesn't fill the silence. And that tells me what I need to know.

  "Bye, Matthew."

  I don’t say, the next time you see me, I won’t be a virgin. But I very much hope that it’s true. For both our sakes.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MATTHEW

  I don't even know what just happened but I know I don't like it. I hate it, as a matter of fact.

  I screwed up today. I know what I want. I know what he wants. What I don't know is how to live with myself if we both get what we want. So instead, I acted like nothing happened in that dressing room, and now he thinks I don't want him. It might be easier if I didn't—but I sure as hell don’t want him believing that he isn't desirable.

  I'm doing pull-ups to kill time and work out some energy when my mind strays to what he's doing tonight. He was hiding something from me. As I conjure up the ways I think he might be reacting to being shut down from me after I worked him up, I don't like where my mind goes.

  He isn't going out to keep his friend Jenn company tonight. He's going out to make bad decisions. I can feel it. I should have seen it in his eyes earlier.

  Fuck. I never should have come on to him in the dressing room. But I did. I was like some asshole staking a claim to him, and then I let him dangle in the wind not knowing where he stood. I'm the worst kind of jerk. He deserves so much better than me.

  And I think he's going to go looking for it tonight.

  Maybe that would be best.

  But what if he's too upset and not thinking clearly? What if he puts himself in a dangerous position to prove something to me? The Dive isn’t a gay bar. If he comes on to the wrong guy, he might get the shit kicke
d out of him or worse.

  I shake my head. He’s been out long enough to know the dangers. He’s with friends. He’ll be fine.

  Fucking Cameron. Why did he ask me to take care of Beckett? He knew exactly how unsuited for the job I am. He had to know he couldn’t trust me with his baby brother. He would kick my ass if he saw how I treated him. He'd slit my throat if he could see my thoughts about him.

  Fucking Cameron, why'd you have to die?

  I shower. I eat. I try to watch a game. I find my keys. I drive to the bar. I curse myself the whole way.

  He's the first thing I see when my eyes adjust to the dim interior at The Dive. There's very little light in the joint, but what there is attaches to him, singling him out to me. He's the most handsome man I've ever seen. In all the times I’ve looked at him, how did I not realize that?

  I've never been in over my head with a guy before. But I'm drowning in him. I don't even want to be rescued.

  He's talking to some punk. His hand is pretty close to Beckett’s drink, and I'm worried that the guy thinks he's going to put something in it. Beckett is paying attention, though, and slides his hand over the top of the glass while he's pretend-laughing at something the punk says.

  I know his real laugh, his real smile. And that ain't it.

  I move through the crowd with him in my sights. My heartbeat is loud in my ears. He's my prey, and I'm a goddamned hunter. I don't think I can stop this now. That beast is back, and he won't be satisfied until Beckett is ours.

  I’ve heard this is how it is for alphas when they find the right omega for them, but I always thought it was some kind of urban legend. I’ve never had these kinds of primal, instinctive feelings before. I’ve never felt like there was part of me that was more animal than human.

  I feel that beast now, though.

  As I get closer, I notice how tight Beckett’s pants are, and I know I'm not the only one appreciating it. I was right. He is looking for trouble tonight. I guess he's going to find it.