Page 13 of My Brother's Roommate (Frisky Business 2)
I snicker. “He’s always being a prick.”
“Then he deserved having his ass handed to him. It’ll be a cold day in hell when this loser gets promoted over you.”
“You might want to double-check the forecast for hell. Because that is a serious possibility.”
Wolfie shakes his head, his lips forming their signature frown. “No way. That dipshit couldn’t even shoot a clay pigeon.”
My eyes roll on instinct. “I don’t know if you know this, but you don’t actually do much skeet shooting on a day-to-day basis as a senior consultant.”
“You know what I mean. He doesn’t deserve to get that promotion simply because of his family connections. You, on the other hand, deserve the world.”
A fluttery feeling beats against my rib cage. “Do you mean that?”
“Of course I do,” Wolfie replies gruffly. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”
My nerves gather into a tight knot at the base of my throat, but I manage to gulp them down.
Say it, Penelope. You’ve been thinking about it all day. What do you have to lose?
“Um, there is one thing that I really want.”
He lifts one dark brow in my direction. “Yeah? What’s that?”
My gaze drops to his large hands, and I suck in all the air I can manage, willing my heart rate to slow to a normal pace. I’m venturing into uncharted territory here, but the timing feels right.
I’ve got the impulse. Why not act on it?
“Remember what you said yesterday about keeping your hands to yourself?”
He nods slowly, caution written all over his tightly drawn face. “Yes?”
“Well, um. What if you didn’t?”
It’s silent for way too long, and I chew nervously on my lip, doing my best to maintain eye contact. But, God, those dark, wild eyes are almost too much to bear.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” he says slowly. “But I’m not sure that I heard you correctly.”
He sets down his empty glass and folds his arms over his chest, which only makes the fabric of his shirt stretch tighter across his biceps.
Good God, does he know how absolutely irresistible he is?
“What are you saying, Penelope?”
What am I saying? Have I completely lost my mind? I’ve imagined this so many times, even spelled it out word for word in my journal. But now that I’m straight-up asking for it, I don’t even know how to put it in words.
My fingernails dig into my palms as I summon every last bit of courage I have. Just say it, Penelope. Tell him what you want.
“I’m saying . . . I want you, Wolfie. Just for tonight.”5* * *WOLFIEPenelope didn’t know what she was asking for.
That’s the only way I can rationalize what happened Saturday night, when she sat beside me on the hotel bed, licked her kissable lips, and told me she wanted me.
Like it was that simple.
Obviously, I shut that shit down as fast as I could. Without hearing any of the details of her proposition, I gave her a firm no, threw back another double shot of Jameson, and proceeded to hug the edge of the bed all night. Not because it’s what I wanted, but because it was the right thing to do.
And now we’ve been back in Chicago for almost a week, and I haven’t heard a word from her. Not even a text. I’m starting to wonder if doing the right thing has consequences.
But I couldn’t imagine sharing all my quirks with someone like Penelope. She’s probably so carefree, so uninhibited in the bedroom, giggling and excited to share pleasure with someone just because it feels good.
By the time Friday evening rolls around, the view from my black leather couch looks pretty bleak. Not just because the sky is a classic shade of early Chicago winter gray, but because I don’t have a single thing planned for the weekend. Normally, I’m more than happy to spend a night in my apartment, sipping something strong and watching TV beside my roommate, Connor. But he texted me earlier to say he’s spending the night at his new friend-with-benefit’s place tonight.
After spending a whole weekend away at a luxury wilderness resort, I’m finding being trapped in my apartment has zero appeal. It doesn’t help that I haven’t been able to shake this tight, anxious feeling in my gut all week. Whatever it is, it took root the second I turned Penelope down, and it hasn’t loosened its grip on me since.
I double-tap my phone to check the time—not even five p.m. yet—and I already feel like a lion stuck in a goddamn cage. There’s too much going on in my head, and being limited to twelve hundred square feet isn’t gonna cut it. I need a change of scenery. Stat.
Propping my feet up on my coffee table, I fire off a text to Hayes to see what he’s up to tonight. His apartment is only a few blocks from mine, making him my best, closest bet if I need a drinking buddy on a cold night like tonight.
