Page 20 of The Roommate Situation

I make my way into the bathroom and slide off my suspenders, then remove my bowtie before stripping off my shirt and pants. I’m half hard as I look at myself in the mirror and my cock twitches when I think of my sexy, adorable roommate. Those gorgeous muscles, that swoon worthy smile, and the way he takes care of me, looks after me. I moan as I reach down and stroke myself, picturing Parker on his knees for me again. Or letting me straddle him as I lick up his toned abs and suck on those insanely defined pecs and deliciously dark nipples.

“Oh, fuck,” I whimper as precum leaks out and a wet spot forms on my underwear. God, I haven’t jacked off in a while and it feels amazing. I take a quick break to strip out of my underwear and slide off my glasses, then turn the water to the shower on before I step inside and grip my dick again. It feels amazing, but I need more, so I reach over and pump some body wash on my hand, using it as lube as I stroke myself faster and harder, whimpering as I imagine Parker’s big strong hand around me, his scent overwhelming me, his lips pressed to my wet skin as I thrust into his grip.

“Fuck!” I cry out. His name leaves my lips on a stifled moan as I bite my lip and shoot my release all over the shower wall. I’m breathing heavily as I brace myself against the tile for a second, my eyes closed, chest rising and falling. Damn that was amazing, but it also makes me realize how much I want my roommate, and it scares me because the last time I got attached to someone it didn’t go so well.

I know Parker is nothing like Zach. When Parker talks to me he looks at me, and listens. He supports me and encourages me. When he congratulates me on something, it’s genuine. When he makes dinner for me he never complains about how inconvenient it is. He genuinely enjoys my friends instead of tolerating them at best, and has never said a single derogatory thing about either Lucy or Jackson, which Zach did on a regularbasis, complaining about how clingy they were and how they took time away from us. Parker isn’t my boyfriend but he still understands how important Lucy and Jackson are to me. He’s never done anything to make me feel bad about myself or like I’m a burden in some way and he’s just patient and tolerant enough to deal with me. Things that I believed for a really long time until Parker came along and showed me that my needs matter, too. That I’m worth the extra bit of effort.

I don’t know what’s scarier. Him not wanting me the way I want him, or something more happening between us, only for me to realize that he isn’t who I thought he was, and being crushed all over again. I hate that Zach has taken away my ability to trust myself when it comes to relationships. And I hate that I didn’t realize what he was doing and how he was manipulating me from the very beginning, but now I’m terrified of trusting anyone with my heart, feeling like I always have to have walls up, always have to be on the alert, in case the next person tries to take advantage of me, too.

I sigh and dry off, before slipping my glasses back on and grabbing my clothes. I pad down the hall to my bedroom and shut the door before tossing my dirty clothes in the hamper and sliding into sweats and a cropped T-shirt with a sleeping teddy bear wearing a nightcap on the front.

I hear dishes clanking together when I get closer to the living room/kitchen area and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face when I see Parker rummaging through the cupboards, wearing a bright green apron with sloths on it over his jeans and T-shirt. He pulls out a mixing bowl and I see the flour and sugar sitting next to him on the counter. There’s also dairy free butter and some vegan chocolate chips.

“Hey, short stack,” he says, beaming when he sees me. I flush when his gaze travels from my face down my body and back up, his own cheeks pinkening when his eyes meet mine again. “You,uh…” he clears his throat. “You look good. I like your shirt.” He bites his lip and goes back to grabbing things from the different drawers and cupboards. Measuring cups and spoons, a spatula. I hear him mumble something that sounds like, “What was I looking for again?”

God, he’s so cute, all flustered at the sight of me. And I can’t help feeling a bit proud that he likes what he sees. I move to the bar and sit, watching him. “Everything okay?”

He looks back at me, briefly. “Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?”

“You said you bake when you're nervous or stressed.”

“Oh, yeah, I do,” he says as he starts filling the large bowl with the different ingredients. “I do it for fun, too, though, but I’m actually making these for a friend in one of my classes. She’s having a hard time right now, some family stuff, and my chocolate chip cookies always cheer her up. I'm adjusting the recipe so you can have some, too.” He flushes and grins at me.

Damn. Could he be any more perfect? “That’s really sweet of you. I mean both doing it for her and me. Thank you.”

He shrugs as he measures out some brown sugar and dumps the contents in the bowl. “It’s no big deal. It’s not much effort for something I know will make a difference. I can’t do much else. I just wish she didn’t have such a shitty family.” He looks at me and winks. “And you deserve yummy treats, too.”

My cheeks heat and I can’t help grinning. “She’s lucky she has you,” I tell him, and see the flush creeping up his neck and staining his cheeks pink as well.

“I’ll make dinner when I’m done with these,” he says.

“No rush,” I tell him. “You wanna watch something tonight?” I’m really hoping he does, because I want to snuggle up against him more than anything, and it’s the best excuse I’ve got to be that close. If I was more confident I’d just plonk myself right on his lap, but it takes all my courage just to rest my head on hisshoulder. I was so nervous last night, that he would tell me to move. But he didn’t. I know he must have carried me to my bed, too, when I fell asleep against him, and part of me was pissed when I woke up and realized I’d missed it.

My heart gives a little pitter patter in my chest when he looks back at me and grins. “Sounds good to me.”

The apartment smells like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies minutes later, and when they come out of the oven Parker sets a few aside, giving me a smile. I bite my lip. “If I’m good, can I have one after dinner?” I ask, and his eyes widen. My cheeks flame when I realize how that sounded. “Oh my god,” I mumble, burying my face in my hands. “I’m gonna go die now.” I start to slide off the barstool and Parker laughs as he sets the plate with three cookies down in front of me.

“You can have one now if you’re really good,” he says, and I smile, my face heating all over again when he winks at me.

I wait a few minutes for the cookie to cool down a tiny bit before I take a bite and moan at the gooey chocolatey goodness. “Oh, god, that’s good.” I lick my lower lip when I feel the warm, melted chocolate against it and my dick jumps in my sweats when I see the heat in Parker’s gaze as he stares at me.

He clears his throat again as he turns away and wipes his hands – which are perfectly clean by the way – on his apron.

“I’ll start dinner in a second,” he tells me as he grabs the dirty utensils and starts piling them in the dishwasher.

“I’ll do that,” I tell him, jumping off my bar stool and moving around the counter into the kitchen. “You cook and I clean, remember?”

“That’s just for dinner,” he says, “not everything. And I made the mess.”

I smile at him. “I don’t mind. Let me help.” I place my hand on his chest and shove him away, the feel of his firm body underneath my palm making me shiver. He nods and pullsout a baking dish before changing the temperature on the oven slightly. Then he grabs some chicken out of the refrigerator as I load the dirty dishes. I bite my lip when I see him sneaking glances at my ass out of the corner of my eye. And I might enjoy it a little too much.

“Shit,” I hear and then a wince as something clatters, and turn to see Parker holding his finger, blood running down his hand.

“Fuck,” I say and grab him, pulling him towards the sink. I turn it on and shove his finger under it. Then grab a washcloth and press it over the wound, and he winces again. “You okay?” I ask. He nods, but doesn’t look at me. I tell him to hold the wash cloth over his finger while I get the first aid kit. His cheeks are flushed as I rinse the area around the wound with soap and water, being careful not to get the soap in the cut, before I pat his finger dry and then apply antiseptic ointment. Finally, I wrap a bandage around the injury, and before I can even think twice about it, I bring it to my lips and press a soft kiss to his finger.

Parker’s breath hitches and my gaze meets his. God, I want to kiss him so badly. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his eyes darting to my lips. His thumb rests against my bottom lip, his fingers under my chin, and I swallow as he draws closer to me. I’m pushing up on my tiptoes, getting ready to taste him again, finally, when my phone chimes loudly and Parker startles, releasing me. “I uh, I should get back to the chicken.” He holds his finger up. “Thanks again.”

I nod. Goddamn it. I’m going to murder whoever ruined that moment. When I finish loading the dishwasher I wash my hands and pick up my phone. I can’t get too upset when I see it’s a picture of my little sisters that Mom sent me of them playing dress up and a text underneath that says,It’s not the same without you. I smile because I miss it, too. I used to play dress up with them all the time when I was at home, and they loved it.We’d break out their stuffed animals and have tea parties with real treats that we baked together.

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