Page 77 of The Roommate Experiment

Barely able to form coherent thoughts, I fumble to pull one off my wrist and hand it to him. He gathers my hair higher, his fingers grazing my scalp, and ties it atop my head. It might be the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me.

At least until he leans in, his lips nearly brushing my ear, and murmurs, “The massage might work better if the shirt is loose. Is it okay if I unknot it?”

“Mm-hmm,” is all I can manage in response.

Dylan’s hands sneak to the front of my borrowed shirt, his knuckles skimming my ribs as he unties the knot. The brush of his fingers against my stomach turns my veins into faulty wires, electrocuting me from the inside out. I focus all my energy on keeping myself upright and not fully collapsing back against his muscular chest.

Then his warm hands drop onto my shoulders, and I lose control of my mind and limbs, melting into his touch. The heat of his palms spreads through my skin, sinking deep into my muscles, and I have to bite my lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound. Our bodies are touching in so many places, and it’s even more electrifying. At this rate, I could solve the energy crisis all by myself.

“What’s more stressful, work or your love life, with all those dates you’ve been going on?” Dylan teases as his magic fingers knead the tense muscles at the base of my neck.

I barely have enough brain cells left to say, “I’ve given up online dating. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”

My spine is too occupied melting under the contact of his hands to lock in place as I wait for his response. Otherwise, it would’ve gone ramrod straight.

And, oh, if he doesn’t make me wait for an eternity. A long, loooooong pause follows, and then Dylan says, “Good to know,” without adding anything, and still working magic with his hands on my shoulders.

I wonder what he means by that.Good to knowbecause after having to save me from one of those disastrous dates, he hopes I have more sense? Orgood to knowbecause this massage is foreplay and next, he’ll grab my hair by the knot he’s made, tilt my head backward, and kiss me senseless?

I wish I had the guts to ask. But more than anything, as his fingers press deeper, I wish with all my being that he’d do something, make a move, shove me back, roll on top of me, take me right on this couch. But he doesn’t. He keeps massaging me, loosening my muscles, and unraveling my entire soul one stroke at a time.

Dylan stops only when the closing credits roll on the TV, and I realize that I’ve missed most of the movie.

And then, just like that, Dylan slips up from behind me and tells me it’s getting late and we should go to sleep. The sudden lack of his warmth makes me feel oddly exposed as if a protective shield has been taken away. He wishes me goodnight and walks down the hall, leaving me in a state of utter bewilderment.

I stare after him, my heart still racing, wondering how I can feel so utterly connected to him and uncertain at the same time. I listen as he uses the bathroom and, once I’m sure he’s safely tucked away in his room, I lie down on the couch and start randomly punching and kicking the cushions because what was that?

A cocktail of adrenaline and frustration bubbles up in my hands, at my temples, and in the hollow of my throat, making my limbs restless. I fight to keep from screaming into the nearest pillow. How could he touch me the way he did and then walk away like it was nothing? The confusion swirling inside me builds to a point where I’m ready to burst.

All the touching, the massaging, and thengoodnight? My skin still tingles, every nerve on fire from his hands, and now he’s just… gone?

Dylan’s door opens again. I quickly compose myself, stopping the kicking and punching, and pulling myself back into an upright position as he reappears in the living room, holding a paper bag.

“I forgot to give you something.” He dangles the bag from his long fingers I’m now all too familiar with.

My pulse jumps the instant I see him, my earlier frustration momentarily forgotten, replaced by curiosity and—a dangerous hope. He walks to the couch and sets himself between my legs before squatting down, one hand casually draped over my lower thigh, the other holding the bag up for me. The heat of his hand resting on my thigh is a distraction; it makes it hard to focus on anything else but the warm weight of his fingers over my bare flesh.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the bag from him.

We stare at each other intensely, the space between our mouths the smallest it’s ever been.

He jerks his chin at the bag. “Are you not going to look inside?”

The intensity of his gaze makes the air in my lungs burn as my fingers tighten around the paper, crunching it. I don’t want to break eye contact, but what choice do I have? I nod and look inside where I find a romance book from one of my favorite authors, but it’s not any book; it’s a special edition with sprayed edges.

My hands tremble as I pull it out, the shiny cover catching the light. “How did you know I liked this author?” I snap my head back up to meet his gaze.

Dylan shrugs, standing up. “Isn’t this the one that got ruined at my parents’ house? You said you were looking forward to reading it. I saw it in a bookshop window and thought of you.”

The rasp in his voice contrasts with the way my chest tightens at the casualness of his explanation as if it wasn’t the most thoughtful, heart-flipping thing anyone’s done for me. I have no words; I’m floored. I’m torn between wanting to jump up and hug him or grab him by that ridiculously sexy hoodie and kiss him until he forgets his name.

Instead, I simply say, “Thank you, Dylan. This is so thoughtful of you.”

He grins, that boyish charm of his in full force. “It’s no problem, Hunt. But don’t stay up all night reading, okay?” He punctuates his words with a wink that sends another ripple of electricity straight through me.

I manage a small smile, hoping he can’t see how a simple book and wink can unearth me. “I’ll try my best,” I quip to match his playful tone despite the butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach.

Dylan chuckles, giving me one last heart-stopping smile before he turns and heads back to his room. As soon as his door clicks shut, I collapse on the couch once more, the fancy paperback hugged to my chest.

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