Page 169 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

Him and my brother both are.

It’s do or die.

Forcing my feet to move, I rush over to Jake freaking Jensen sitting at the bar. He’s nursing hard liquor straight from the bottle next to his friend, Milo Anders. The fact that I know either of their names is probably creepy as hell, but when I was basically bred to know everyone and every minute detail about their life, it’s a hard habit to break.

And even if I didn’t, it’s Jake Jensen. He’s a hard guy to miss. Sexy nerd meets Marvel character with a side of genius and charisma. Yes, please.

But it’s not like we’ve ever spoken. He’s never even noticed me before. He always had his nose in a book or, until recently, his mouth plastered against a random girl.

Which is why he’ll be perfect for the job.

The seconds tick by in slow motion, yet almost charged with urgency too, as I stop behind him, forcing my lungs to slowly release the pent up oxygen they’d been holding, though I still feel like I might faint.

He doesn’t notice me.

Lovely.

Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I interrupt, “Excuse me.”

Slowly, Jake turns around and meets my gaze, the glass bottle forgotten on the bartop behind him.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I look toward the door to see if Troy or Henry have made it into the bar yet, and ask, “Are you single?”

“What?”

With a gulp, I turn back to Jake, and repeat, “Are you single?”

“What are you talking about?”

I wave my hand in front of me. “Answer the question.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Perfect. Just go with it, okay?”

He cocks his head to the side. “What?”

Without bothering to answer him, I climb into his lap, ignoring the way I’m freaking trembling as I slide my pale hands into his dark hair and close my eyes before pressing my mouth to his.

This isn’t me. Kissing a stranger. Kissing anyone who isn’t Troy. But I’m mad. I’m jealous. And I want to make my ex hurt the same way he hurt me.

It takes Jake a second to respond. I mean, why wouldn’t it? A random girl just climbed into his lap and is kissing him.

Not that he shouldn’t bethatsurprised. The bastard’s been walking around with a different girl on his arm every time I’ve seen him for the past, what? Six months? Maybe more? He’s probably used to this response from women. The guy has it all. Looks. Brains. And the humility that puts him a step above the rest. Unlike my ex who’s one of the most entitled, cockiest people I’ve ever met. And that’s saying something, considering the circles I run in.

I shove aside the thought and try to focus on the present instead of the impending doom that’s creeping closer with every passing second.

Besides, I’m kissing Jake freaking Jensen. The guy I would’ve never approached if it weren’t for my dire circumstances. And he’s nothing like my ex. No, he’s going places. And he’s going to get there because of his own hard work instead of a stupid arranged marriage and shitty friendship that’ll line him up to be the vice president of one of the largest tech companies in the world.

Holy shit. I’m kissing Jake Jensen.

I can feel his surprise. I can almost taste it. His posture is rigid beneath my hands and thighs as I drag my tongue along the seam of his lips, desperate tonotlet my completely ludicrous plan blow up in my face.

I mean, I know we’ve never really crossed paths before, but I’ve seen him kiss some pretty shady looking girls lately, so he should be up for this task, right?

My trimmed fingernails scrape softly against his temples as I nibble his bottom lip, praying it’ll be enough to snap him out of his paralysis as I peek one eye open and look at the entrance. Again.

Only this time, he’s here. They both are.

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