Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men's Club #1)(16)

It’s too on the nose for anyone to ever see it, so I save the scene to the depths of my hard drive and open the novel I’m working on.

The next chapter stares back at me blankly—white screen, pulsing cursor, brain urging me to type something—but my hands are unwilling to listen.

Instead, I keep thinking back to the other day when I thought it would be a good idea to build a fucking fort. Am I a child? I shake my head. I have no idea what Payne must have thought of me. My brain keeps projecting images of him and his friends having a good laugh about the weirdo he lives with.

My subconscious itches to write more irrelevant scenes, and I end up giving in. It feels good to get back into the flow of things, even if this allegory is so obviously about my crush on the Payne tree who parted its branches so my little bushy self could be bathed in sunshine. I mentally gag at how heavy-handed and dramatic the whole thing is once I’m done, then save that to the darkest depths too.

The rapid typing still wasn’t enough to shake this buzzing under my skin.

Sunlight peeks through the curtains to the balcony and tells me I’ve been here for hours.

Shit.

I rummage through my drawers for one of my coloring books and come up empty, so I grab the yoga mat rolled up beside the cabinet and put a workout on to try and clear my head. The sooner the noise stops, the sooner I can sleep.

It takes me a while to zone out, and just as I think it’s not going to happen today, my brain starts to relax, even as my muscles ache with the poses I’m putting them through.

The door to the hallway clicks open when I’m mid-downward dog, and I tilt my head toward the noise to see Payne’s upside-down form.

His lips twitch. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Of course I’m sweaty and the armpits of my shirt feel damp. All I can hope is I’m not stinking up the space.

“Care if I join you?”

“Ah …” I quickly nod. “I mean, no, I don’t mind. You can, of course.”

He leaves and is back a moment later in gym shorts and no shirt. I should have said no. Told him I was done.

Because I basically am now, since it’s near impossible to do these poses with a fucking hard-on.

I’ve been at it for longer than I normally would be, but there’s no stopping me now. Payne’s body, stretching and moving beside mine, is better than porn, and when he begins to sweat as well, it definitely isn’t stinking up the place. It’s manly and sexy, and I want to bury my face in his neck and inhale.

A shiver passes through me as my dick starts to thicken.

Shit.

I drop my pose, and my ass hits the mat with a thud. “Ouch.”

“You okay?” He’s got the fingertips of one hand brushing the carpet and the others stretched into the air, providing a view of that wide, tattooed chest for my fantasy memory bank.

“Totally. Just bruised my coccyx,” I joke.

“Better than your cock, I guess.”

My blood pressure skyrockets. He cannot say cock around me. I scramble to my feet. “Right, so, umm, breakfast.”

“I’ll make it.” Payne drops the pose he was in and straightens, stretching those long arms over his head.

I realize I’m staring at his muscles like they’re crack and yank my gaze away. “I feel like I should fight you on it, but I can’t actually cook, so my options are a bowl of cereal or yogurt.”

His hands land on my shoulders as he steers me toward the hall, and if he wasn’t totally oblivious to my feelings, I’d say he was deliberately trying to tease me. “Go take the first shower. I’ll jump in after breakfast.”

An image of him completely naked and covered in water flashes through my mind, and I lurch out of his grip. “First shower sounds great. I’ll be right back.” After I take care of my dick.

The second I’m behind the closed bathroom door, I turn on the shower to drown out all sound and drop trou.

I’d feel embarrassed or guilty, but this is far from my first jerk-off session since Payne moved in.

I wrap my hand around my lengthening cock and give it a long, hard stroke. It’s more frustrating than anything, so I pump hand soap into my palm, and this time the glide of my hand makes my eyes flutter closed.

It makes it easier to picture Payne in here with me. His dominating presence, the muscles, his steady gaze. How the hell could Kyle give that up? I’d sacrifice my left nut to spend the night with him. To feel his lips on my skin, to run my fingers through his hair, to finally find out if his scruffy beard is soft or spiky. I’m almost sobbing as I start to jack off properly.

When he was away, it was easy to forget my crush, to put it behind me and only torture myself with it whenever I was reminded of him. But now he’s here, in my space, sharing proper one-on-one time with me for the first time maybe ever … having his full attention, being the one who gets to be here for him, it’s driving me crazy.

My hand speeds up to the slick squelches of the hand soap, and I have to bite my lip to hold back a groan. My cock is pulsing with pleasure, zaps of need filling my balls, my muscles tense as I stroke faster.

I picture his chest, his forearms, that smile that makes me weak. Seeing those gym shorts slide to the ground as his dick comes into view.

“Fuck …”

My cock pulses, and then I’m coming. Waves of relief sweep over me as I unleash the pent-up need into my fist, stroking myself to completion.