Page 65 of Tapped By My Roommate
I shivered a little, remembering the feel of him beneath me the night before. Ethan hadnothingto worry about when it came to my attraction to him. I could look at him all day. But if I kept it up, I wouldn’t be able to resist waking him with my need to touch and taste again. My boundaries were shifting like sand under my feet.
I glanced around the room, looking for distraction. Ethan’s Godzilla posters made me smile. His little figurines too. I envied his obvious passion for the little things in life. I felt as if I’d forgotten how to appreciate simple joys.
A spiral notebook sat on the bedside table. I recognized it as the notebook Ethan had shared with me containing the Hookup Policy and list of things he wanted to explore. I’d returned it to him after reviewing it the first day. I’d read it about twenty times that day, imagining all the ways I might touch Ethan. Ways I might guide him toward all the pleasure that could be had between two men.
We’d done nearly every act he’d proposed, but I felt as if I’d barely scraped the surface of what was possible. I tried to remember what the exact terms were for our relations. Sex but not emotions? I wasn’t entirely sure that was working. Exclusivity? Good. I wanted no one else to touch him. My sister making cow eyes at him had been bad enough, but someone doing more? I didn’t like it one bit.
I flipped open the notebook to review, skimming the rules until my gaze caught on the last one.
Hookups will end when list of bisexual experiences is complete (See Pg 2).
My gut clenched. I wasn’t ready for anything to end, but Ethan was a stickler for rules. He’d created this policy, and he’d probably want to abide by it. I flipped to the next page—almost afraid to look and see how close we were to the end of this little experiment.
We’d made out many times, not just one, I told myself. It didn’t necessarily mean things were over.
Then I saw the list.
And the checkmarks.
Kiss/make-out. Hand job. Blow job. Check. Check. Check. Touch Rhett, check. Frotting, check. See Rhett naked—check.
I felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me. The warmth I’d woken with was gone. Every item on the list was checked off. Even what we’d done last night. He’d been so eager to complete the list that he’d immediately updated it. He must have reached for the notebook as soon as I’d fallen asleep.
I was a fool, staying in his bed uninvited while he congratulated himself on completing his bisexual journey. Ethan wasn’t falling for me the way I was for him. He was just collecting a series of sexual experiences. I’d volunteered to help him explore—nothing more. And he’d taken me at face value.
It wasn’t his fault. It was all spelled out right there in the rules. I’d agreed to every one of them.
But it didn’t stop the pain that sliced through me at seeing our every moment together distilled into a checklist. I knew he’d had preferences he wanted to explore, but I hadn’t viewed it like a sheet of tasks to be accomplished.
Not until now.
I needed to get out of this bed. I needed to get to my room. But as I shifted, Ethan made a small noise in his throat, and his eyelids fluttered.
Fuck.
He was waking up.
* * *
ETHAN
I was overheated when I woke, throwing off the blankets and stretching. Beside me, Rhett tensed.
Oh god.We’d slept together. Not just slept together butslepttogether.
Hookups didn’t do that, did they? Casual fun didn’t include overnight cuddles. He’d just looked so peaceful, sleeping in my bed. I hadn’t wanted him to go. But I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about it.
I opened my eyes, expecting to see him just waking up, but he was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, with my spiral notebook open in his hands. The same one that included the “Roommate Hookup Policy” and my checklist of sexual acts I wanted to explore.
“Hey,” I said, my throat still scratchy and my voice hoarse from sleep. “What are you doing?”
Rhett kept his eyes fixed on the page. “Just looking at the checklist you made.” He hesitated. “We’ve done everything on it.”
My heart leapt into my throat. Was Rhett looking for an exit?
“Sleeping in my bed wasn’t on the list,” I joked awkwardly.
He smiled tensely. “Guess not. Sorry.”
