Page 36 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

Go figure.

Chewing on my lower lip, my stubbornness battles with my need to take what Milo’s offering. Another moment to myself. Without listening for a ticking time bomb in the other room who could go off again at any second.

Because he’s got her.

And even though we might have our ups and downs, I know he’ll take care of her when I can’t. It’s who he is. He’s a rock. A very stubborn, very dependable rock.

One I’m glad Penny has in her corner.

The question is, will he still be in her corner if he finds out about Marty?

Shit.

I can’t get attached.

And I refuse to let myself rely on him.

Not this time.

Not when I know how much it’ll hurt when he leaves again.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I turn the shower back on and rinse the conditioner out of my long hair before twisting it into a tight rope to wring out the excess water. Less than thirty seconds later, the towel is wrapped around my body. I knot the white terry cloth above my breasts and twist the door handle. The door softly squeaks as I pull it open, only to be met by a bastard waiting for me on the other end.

I gasp and stumble back a step. “Shit, Milo. You scared the crap out of me.”

With Peanut in one arm and a stern expression painted across his face, Milo glares down at me. “I told you to take a break.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

“Since when do you care about whether or not I’m taking a break?”

“Since right now. I thought a good night’s rest would fix it, but you look like shit––”

“Gee, thanks.” My face reddens with a fresh dose of frustration and shame. That he had to see me like this. That the image of my naked mom bod is probably etched into his brain for the rest of his life. That he’ll likely laugh about it behind my back, grateful he isn’t tied down to me, and he can have his fill of sexy women from now on.

Jaw clenching, he squeezes the back of his neck but doesn’t budge. “I didn’t mean it like––”

“We’ve already discussed how much I’m failing, remember? No need to load on the criticism.”

He steps closer, his massive frame towering over me as I force myself to hold my ground.

I can smell him.

Shit, I can smell him.

The familiar scent makes my knees weak. His skin still dewy with sweat from the gym, the pheromones radiating off him in waves, reminding me of the times our sweaty bodies would be wrapped around each other as we’d each race toward the edge.

Together.

Keeping my spine straight, it takes everything inside me to not lean closer and breathe him in. But he isn’t the only stubborn one, and I refuse to let him see how much he affects me. Especially when I know the feeling isn’t mutual. If it were, he would’ve never broken my heart in the first place.

“You wanna know the truth, Mads?” he growls, his deep voice shooting straight to my core, warming my lower belly.

With my thighs pressed together, I gulp and zero in on the damp fabric stretched across his chest, refusing to look up at him.

I can’t.

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