Page 84 of The Roommate Experiment

The grin slips back in place.

“It felt more like a merging of souls.” I let my palm trail down his arm, still marveling at the notion that I can touch him where I want when I want. Kiss him whenever I feel like it. That he is mine. Dylan Thompson is mine.

Dylan smiles, eyes shining even if a little droopy; the guy deserves a nap. “A merging of souls, huh? I like the sound of that.” He brushes his nose against mine in an Eskimo kiss.

I hum in agreement, running my hand through his hair. It’s damp with sweat, but I don’t care. Too many times before I had to stop myself from smoothing it. But now I want to explore every inch of him, learn every scar, every line, every texture.

“I have a question.” I trace idle patterns on Dylan’s chest with my fingertip. “Of the past twenty-four hours, how much of it was you?”

“What do you mean? It was all me.”

“Oh.” I prop myself on an elbow and tap his nose. “Am I to believe you routinely sing Taylor Swift while mopping the house?”

“Ooooh, that part.”

“Yeah, what was that?”

He cute-frowns. “Little counter-seduction scheme?”

“So the book, the movie, the massage, coming out of the shower in a towel, it was all deliberate?”

“In my defense, you tortured me for a week.” His fingers lazily trace the curve of my waist, probably to distract me—it’s working.

“You tortured me for years.”

“Unknowingly.”

“Tristan tells you I’m into you and then what, you two scheme to ruin me?”

“Don’t sound so indignant.” He pinches my ass lightly. “As if what you did with my sister was much different. At least I wasn’t trading with inside information.”

“Nina wasn’t a part of this?”

“No, only me and Tristan.”

“How did you guys come up with what to do?”

“Easy.” He shrugs. “The internet.”

“You googled, ‘how to counter-seduce my roommate’?”

“No, we used TikTok for research.”

“TikTok? Please, I need to know the exact text of that search.”

“Something along the lines of, ‘what BookTok girlies are into.’”

I sag back on the pillows. “Guess I should consider myself lucky you didn’t show up in fae-warrior wings.”

“No.” He kisses the swell of my breast. “But I’m taking notes for my Halloween costume. Do you prefer pure white or midnight black for the feathers? And should I go all leather—jacket, pants—or shirtless?”

I cut him a mock side glare. “We’ve established I’m into bare chests. Drinking the milk straight from the carton was a nice touch, by the way. Was that on BookTok, too?”

“No, that was a little improv from me. Glad to hear the performance was appreciated.”

“It wasmuchappreciated.” I roll half on top of him again, pushing him into the mattress. “In fact, from now on, you’re not allowed to drink milk any other way.”

Dylan chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest under my palms. “Duly noted. Drinking restrictions are now in effect.”

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