The Roommate Pact(38)
Graham wasn’t quite so optimistic. Yeah, he’d heard of success stories from online dating, but he’d also heard several shitty ones.
Maybe she’d let him review her matches before contacting them, sort of like how they worked while they were out.
Claire closed her laptop and set it on the nightstand. She turned out the lamp and scooted closer to him. He couldn’t sleep on his side, but he turned his head to meet her eyes.
“It’s probably weird to say this after setting up a profile to meet other men, and a terrible idea to suggest it when we’re horizontal. But I’m the kind of girl who asks for what she wants, and all I want to do right now is kiss you again.” She dropped her gaze briefly. “Feel free to turn me down. I won’t be offended.”
He reached out, tipped her chin up with his finger, and shot her an incredulous look. He wanted to tell her he’d have to be dead to not want to kiss her.
When she gave him a small smile that was...not quite shy, but not a standard, confident Claire smile, he leaned as far as he could to rest his hand on the small of her back and tucked her close against his side.
He brushed his nose against hers and she parted her lips, eyes falling closed. He wasted no time with pleasantries and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. She let out a moan and enthusiastically returned his fervor, sliding one hand under his shirt as their mouths crashed together. His body went taut when she went up on her elbow to prop herself above him, pressing her breasts into his arm.
Not being able to flip her over, climb on top of her writhing body, and feel her pleasure beneath him was straight up going to kill him.
Just as the thought grabbed hold, another one popped up, this one unfamiliar and intriguing.
Savor her.
The concept was like a shock to his system, and he switched gears. Hot, urgent, and fast was for another time. A time when he had a voice, because he wanted to talk to her. Tell her how it felt, ask what she liked.
They were just getting started and learning about each other. And he couldn’t ignore his physical limitations. A night like this was for intention. Touching. Tasting.
This experience with Claire wasn’t a night out at a club downing shots and cutting loose on the dance floor. No, this was a trip to wine country with meandering bike rides down country roads and hours-long tastings and food pairings to satisfy the palate.
“Damn, Graham. I hope my future husband is as good at this as you are,” she murmured against his mouth.
Her words gave birth to a strange, unwelcome sensation in his gut. He pushed it deep down, as far as it would go, and went in for more.
He was well aware of what they were doing and the boundaries, both spoken and unspoken. It was just...he was so comfortable with Claire, and this newfound discovery of their sexual chemistry was intoxicating. If she found another man she wanted to marry, he’d be happy for her and wish her the best.
But until then...what they had going was perfect for him, and part of him hoped that wouldn’t change anytime soon.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Bored again
Claire,
Another Google suggestion for journal topics is the high and low of your day.
High: I woke up with you curled up against my side. Don’t get weird about it, I’m not. I’ve just always liked sharing my bed with someone else. Women, preferably, but I won’t lie and say Nathan, Noah, and I never cuddled for body heat when camping in the winter. Anyway, it was nice, and I’d like to make a motion we keep that up even when I get my voice back.
Yes, I realize I’ll need to bring that up IRL at some point, because you’ll never read this.
Low: You left for work. Again, don’t get weird. I’m just bored and I hate being here alone. Gertrude is lovely company but she sleeps too much.
Oh, you want to hear what I’ve done today? K.
After you left I gave myself a sponge bath (if that mental image doesn’t turn you on, I don’t know what will) and stole some of your dry shampoo. THAT STUFF IS FUCKING AWESOME. Do they make it for guys? I may never wash my hair again.
You’re always welcome to do it for me, though.
Then I “worked out.” I don’t think I’m supposed to, but I did push-ups and sit-ups today in addition to weights. It didn’t bother my leg in that behemoth cast so it’s probably fine, right? By the time this is over I’ll look like an ostrich. Huge on the top with tiny little toothpick legs completely devoid of muscle tone. But hairy. (Strike the sponge bath comment—that mental image should be what turns you on.)
K, so then I started some creepy show on Netflix and freaked myself out and turned it off. Then I sat on the porch for a while to get some vitamin D. I saw a Subaru coming down the street and for a second I thought maybe you got off early, but it wasn’t you.
Obviously.
But then I was thinking about what I’d tell you if you were home, and here we are.
Some of my buddies from the station wanted to stop by this afternoon, but I said (er, texted) no. I feel weird not being able to talk to them. Come to think of it, I wasn’t comfortable when Reagan was here, either. But with you and Noah I couldn’t care less. Mia, too, probably. And maybe Chris.
Does that mean you’re my people? Nathan was the first friend I ever had like that. He and I were so similar it was almost scary, and I knew within five minutes of talking to him he was different than the guys I grew up with (assholes, mostly). I got lucky that his brother was cool, too, and then got lucky again that a friendship with Noah meant I got to know you and Mia, too.