Page 80 of Throttle

He secures me by clutching my upper arm. “You good?”

My face isn’t.

“I thought you’d be asleep. I’ll go.” When I try to spin, he doesn’t let his hand go from me.

“You stay. I’ll go.” He sets down his water.

“That’s ridiculous. It’s your house.”

He shakes his head. “It’s yours now too.”

“Do you know how insane that sounds?”

“It doesn’t. Not to me.”

“Throttle. I can’t live here with you.”

“Why not? You needed to be out of there. And I have the space. It’s big enough for ten people to stay here if I wanted. So, no. It’s not insane. It makes sense.”

“I didn’t ask you to do this. You went behind my back,” I say.

“I won’t apologize for getting you out of that dump. I admit, I could have done things differently, but it made me sick to my stomach knowing you slept there every night. Here. It’s safe. You’re protected.”

I close my eyes, because yes, I’m safer here with Throttle. It's a feeling I've waited for, for a long time.

I drop my shoulders. “Let’s call it a truce for now. It’s too early and I haven’t even eaten yet.”

His eyes soften.

I take a glass and fill it with filtered water from the fridge. “But don’t think this conversation is over.” I direct a finger at his chest.

“How about this?” He backs up, leaning into the counter behind him. His forearm veins and tattoos on display. “Consider me a roommate. That’s it.”

The words tug at my heartstrings. How did we go from us to roommates? Right, I forgot. Sex. Damn good sex.

I study him a beat. “Really?” I cross my arms to my chest.

“I swear.”

“Fine. A roommate. But I’m paying you rent, or I’m looking for a new place.”

“You’re not paying me rent. But I have an idea.” Oh, how I love his ideas. “Since I suck at cooking. You can make me breakfast every morning. That’s our deal.”

“That’s a terrible compromise.”

“Guess I’ll starve then. And to think what a miserable way to go. Unless it’s my punishment.”

“Ugh. Fine. You’re a disgrace.” I bite my lip to hide a smile.

“I’m glad you’ve agreed.” He smirks with his dimple and my insides dance.

“Whatever.”

“Coffee?”

“Sure.” I sneak into the chair and watch as Throttle brews coffee using his fancy maker.

His hips and torso are so enticing, and it’s hard resisting the urge to reach out to him. Being his roommate will be utter torture.

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