The Roommate (Roommates, #1)

After helping Allie and Susanne see all the guests out and clean up, we ordered a pizza, unable to stomach another casserole. The fridge was filled with the well-meaning intentions of friends and family, but we’d eaten nothing but broccoli-rice casserole and tuna noodle for two days straight. We needed a break, and as we sat huddled around the small round kitchen table, a large pie in front of us, a moment of calm settled around us.

“You all right, Mom?” Allie asked, wiping her hands on a paper towel.

Susanne nodded. “Yeah, sweetie. We’ll get through somehow, right?” She squeezed her daughter’s hand.

“We always do,” Allie agreed.

“Where’s Cannon?” Susanne asked. “He should eat while the food is still hot.”

I hadn’t seen him in hours-not since our encounter in the garage. For all I knew, he was avoiding me. Maybe he regretted how he’d acted; I wasn’t sure. I focused on the warm slice of pizza in front of me and tried to forget the rest.

Allie nodded. “I’ll go find him.” She marched upstairs while Susanne and I continued eating in silence.

Susanne’s doctor, a longtime friend of the family, had stopped by earlier with a package of antianxiety medication. It was a sample pack with only a few doses, and Susanne had taken one earlier with a glass of water. I knew it wasn’t the answer long term, but was happy to see that she seemed a little calmer now. She was resilient and strong. I believed she would undoubtedly find a way through this nightmare.

When Allie came back, she announced that Cannon was drunk and would be down to eat later. It wasn’t like him to drink heavily, and the pizza I’d just consumed sat like a stone in my stomach.

As far as him coming downstairs, I never got to see that happen. I cleaned up the kitchen and left about thirty minutes later for home.

• • •

It was just after midnight when I heard the key turn in the lock. Sleep had eluded me. Even though my body was tired, my mind had continued to race.

I sat upright in bed. Cannon was home.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

My heart rate picked up speed as he moved around the house. When he kicked off his shoes at the front door and moved toward the hall, I followed the less-than-graceful sounds of his footsteps. Then there was a loud thunk, followed by him cursing under his breath. Maybe he’d stubbed his toe? I almost giggled, but then the shadow of his tall form was filling my door frame.

“Paige?” He wasn’t quiet, clearly wasn’t afraid of waking me. There was a rough edge of need to his voice, and it called to something inside me. My chest tightened violently.

Cannon blinked as if his eyes were adjusting to the darkness, then stepped inside my room. I expected him to ask to join me like he had the other night, when we’d fallen asleep, seeking solace in each other’s arms. My first clue that this was not going to resemble that was when Cannon crossed the room and leaned over the foot of my bed, grasping my ankles to tug me down the bed.

“Paige.” He said my name again, his voice breaking.

“Yes?” I whispered.

“I need you.” The plea was so simple, and yet so visceral.

“Yes.” I moaned as his hands slid up my bare legs.

I’d gone to bed dressed in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of panties. And in about three seconds flat, he had stripped me of those. Then his hot mouth fused over mine, kissing me deeply. He tasted of whiskey and desire.

“Are you drunk?” I asked, panting as I pulled away.

“Might be. Just a little. But not so much that I can’t make you feel good.”

He nuzzled against my neck, leaving wet kisses on my throat, and desire surged through me.

“That okay, princess?”

“Yes.” I gasped, willing to agree to anything in that moment. I just didn’t want him to stop.

Cannon stripped out of his clothes, shedding them beside my bed, and then he moved over me, entering me with a soft sigh on his lips, muttering how perfect I felt.

Mixed emotions competed inside me. I wanted this, wanted him, but I wanted it to mean more than a quick midnight fuck to relieve stress. I wanted to wake up next to him, make breakfast together, kiss his perfect lips before I left for work, and share a glass of wine together in the evenings.

A tiny piece of me still held out hope, but most of me had resigned myself to the fact that I’d gotten myself into this situation-Cannon’s secret fuck buddy. I wanted to be more than a warm, wet hole, and at the thought, I started to get angry. Angry that he’d shown up drunk looking for sex, angry at the lack of foreplay.

Cannon lifted my bent knee, tucking my leg up beside my ribs so he could get even closer, thrust deeper than ever before. This side of Cannon was new-he wasn’t the gentle, attentive, playful lover whispering dirty things while he watched for my reactions. He was taking, pushing me further, fucking me harder.

“Are you going to come for me?” he whispered against my neck, his hips pummeling mine.