Page 31 of Merry Me
“This is not romantic. So don’t get any ideas,” she declared immediately, her blue eyes wide and accusatory, as if I had personally laid out the rose petals and queued up the soft jazz.
I leaned against the doorframe and surveyed the room. “I don’t know, Trouble…” I gave her a slow once-over before letting my gaze sweep the suite. “Seems awfully romantic to me.”
The B&B had gone full Hallmark Channel in here. Vaulted ceilings, twinkling lights on a pine-scented tree tucked into the corner, a fireplace crackling beneath a garland-draped mantel, and a bed so big and plush it could’ve moonlighted as a marshmallow. Add in the floor-to-ceiling windows and the fur rug and—yeah. Whoever designed this suite wanted people to get naked and emotional.
And judging by the way Natalie’s mouth had parted slightly as she looked around, she agreed.
She spun toward me, hands on her hips. “I’m sleeping on the couch,” she spat out.
I smirked, dropping my bag on the bed. “As I said downstairs,” I drawled, kicking off my boots, “I don’t mind sharing.”
Natalie made a sound that I could only describe as a rage-gargle. “Not. Happening.”
I held up my hands, all faux innocence. “Hey, your call. Although, if memory serves, you did once say I was the human equivalent of a weighted blanket.”
She glared so hard I half expected the tree lights to short-circuit. Honestly, it was impressive. That kind of fury? Still hot.
I stretched my arms over my head, letting my shirt ride up just enough to tease. She noticed. Oh, she definitely noticed. Her eyes flicked—just for a second—then snapped back up like she hadn’t just taken a mental screenshot of my abs. Victory.
“But since we’re clearly setting boundaries,” I said casually, already walking toward the bathroom, “you should know I’m about to take a shower.”
Her arms were still crossed, her lips pursed. “Thank you for that information. That is good roommate behavior.” She sniffed. “I’ll expect that level of respect for the remainder of the week.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Of course,” I said smoothly. “I’ll try to be as good a roommate as Casey.”
The sound she made was somewhere between a gasp and a wounded animal. She knew I’d been keeping tabs. Not everything. Not yet. But the breadcrumbs? I was dropping them with calculated precision. Maybe one day I’d tell her how many hours I’d spent clicking through photos of her and her friends. How I knew what coffee shop she studied at. How many times I’d come close to jumping on a plane just to see her face in person.
How I was the one who’d temporarily disabled Old Bessie so I could have more time with her…
But for now?
This was way more fun.
Stepping into the bathroom, I left the door open.Just a crack. Just enough to let the steam creep out. Just enough to drive her insane.
I knew her too well.
Natalie might claim to hate me. She might fight me every step of the way. But shelovedmy body.
The second the water started, I imagined her out there—arms crossed, legs curled up under her, probably pretending to scroll on her phone while doing everything in her power not to listen. Not to think about me. Not to picture me naked.
But she would.
I braced a hand against the tile, my head falling forward as the hot water pounded against my back. Steam rose like smoke from a fire I couldn’t put out, and the ache that had been pulsing since she landed in that bush—since her eyes locked with mine like she hated how much she still wanted me—intensified to something feral.
I palmed my dick, exhaling sharply through my nose as the pressure surged through me. My hand closed tight, stroking slow, deliberate.
My brain went straight to her. Always her. Her lips parted. Her thighs spread. That sweet, soft gasp when I pushed inside her tight pussy.
I hissed, gripping tighter, moving faster.
I wasn’t just turned on…I was possessed.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, hips rocking as I imagined her slipping into the bathroom, whispering my name, dropping to her knees. Her mouth hot and wet, her eyes locked with mine.
Grabbing some more soap, I slid my fist up and down my shaft, gasping at how good it felt. This was way better than usual. Fucking my hand while my metaphorical dream girl was just outside…much better than doing it alone.
My balls tightened, the coil snapping with an almost violent rush.
