Page 32 of Roommate Wars
Elise picked up her napkin and touched the side of her mouth with it. Her hands were elegant even when they smacked my ass, which I’d deserved. “To summarize, she made it clear I’m not good enough for you.”
I snorted. “You’re way out of my league.”
She blinked, her expression stunned.
I took a bite of cake and looked away. “She’s probably jealous. You’re breathtaking tonight.” I considered that a moment. “Too stunning—a few men here need to watch where their eyes roam.”
The warmth of her gaze caressed the side of my face. “Those are heavy compliments, Jackson. You’re not going to ask me for anything, are you? Because if clothes and delicacies are involved, I might accept.”
I glared, and she smiled.
“As I was saying,” I told her, “maybe stay away from lecherous geezers. These rich, old men are crafty.”
“Noted,” she said. “But the only handsy man so far has been my roommate.”
I pointed my dessert fork at her. “That was for show.”
“Sure. I believe you,” she said, heavy on the sarcasm. She took another bite of dessert. “But your acting didn’t pass the test. Thalia isn’t buying it. That woman is onto us.”
I growled low in my throat. If Thalia hadn’t already brought in new investors and won over my team, I’d consider letting her go. “Let me handle her.”
* * *
Two days later,I’d been forced to go commando all day during a very important meeting with community leaders interested in our technology, and I’d felt like a total perv. “Elise!”
I dumped my briefcase on the counter and stormed to her bedroom.
She was sitting with her head against the beige upholstered headboard, hair in a messy bun, long, bared legs crossed at the ankle while she typed on her laptop, wearing nothing but a pair of my boxers and a T-shirt.
I shook my head. Ogling my roommate wasn’t the reason I’d hunted her down. “Dammit, Elise, I have no underwear. What happened to doing laundry?”
She looked up sheepishly before her expression turned to one of stubbornness. “That’s not my fault. You made me get dressed and go to a party over the weekend, and I didn’t have time for laundry. There’s a lot of work involved in beautifying oneself. There’s the shaving all the bits—”
I flinched.
“—and the polishing of nails and other parts. And makeup, and underwear that doesn’t show through fitted silk. And hair! Have you any idea how long it takes to accomplish a natural-looking bun that doesn’t stretch my skin like a canvas? And for the record, five-inch heels hurt. So don’t give me this ‘You didn’t do my laundry, woman,’ business. I’ve been busy and I’ll get to it when I get to it. Or, you know, you can do a load yourself.”
The instinct to tuck tail and hide was powerful.
She returned to her computer and snapped her fingers without looking up. “Close the door behind you.”
How had I lost this argument? “Just make sure you get to the laundry.” Sophia had tried to school me about heels when she lived here, and like a moron, I hadn’t considered that when I bought Elise’s outfit. “Sorry about the shoe thing. I should have asked before I bought them.”
Her temperament flipped on a dime, and she beamed up at me. “It’s fine. They were very pretty.”
I narrowed my eyes. Was she playing me? “Speaking of uncomfortable, do you know how awkward it is to wear a suit without underwear? The boys were clacking like castanets.”
Elise’s eyes widened, and then she bent at the waist and laughed, tipping her laptop onto the mattress. “Really?” She wiped her eyes, because apparently that had brought tears to them.
“Happy my misery makes you laugh,” I said, irritated, but my lips might have cracked a fraction into a smile. “It’s airy without underwear.”
Her gaze slid to my waist, and I felt it in my dick. “You’re not helping,” I muttered.
She gave her head a quick shake. “Sorry. I guess I can take a break and do a load.” She set the laptop aside and slid off the bed. “Just give me an hour or two.”
“What about dinner?” I asked.
Her face hardened. “You’re pushing it, Jackson.”
