2B or Not 2B (Roomies Series) (9 page)

Chapter Nine

DAY 20

"Don't overdo it," I stressed out as we
were watching Ryan leave the building with some of his friends. They were laughing like morons with an IQ so low that I wondered if it wasn't from the many hits they took since they started playing football as little kids. Poor guys, it wasn't even their
entire
fault.

Byron shrugged and put an arm around my shoulders. On another occasion
, I might have had a tiny orgasm at the feeling of his hot skin against mine, the weight of his muscled arm around my neck bringing me toward him with a little push.
And his smell.
He smelled so good; it wasn't normal for a guy who spent a day sweating in the suffocating classrooms. But no, I wasn't enjoying the experience. I was focusing way too hard on what was about to happen, on the fact that Ryan would be in front of us in a few seconds now that he spotted me. I was freaking out, and I hated it. I scowled but added nothing as Ryan smirked at me. He didn't care one bit that I was plastered against another guy, he was
that
sure of himself.

"At least you're not using your gay best friend to drive me away, Lonie," Ryan said as soon as he was at a talking distance, barely looking at Byron.

Ryan was way taller than Byron, but my roomy was very built, and he was a fucking soldier! I knew he'd chew Ryan in two seconds flat if it came to it. That too could almost bring me to orgasm, but I digressed.

"Like I need someone to resist you," I replied, leaning more against
Byron's body. "And don't call me Lonie."

Byron's body tensed when Ryan chuckled. Byron sighed and cocked his head
to one side, making a show of his scar. Ryan's eyes caught it; he paled a little. I felt Byron's on the edge of breaking down and laughing, and I couldn't blame him. Granted, when you see a badass looking guy with such a scar, the first thing that comes to your mind would be that said guy was some dangerous nut in a gang or something.

"
London
, is taken," Byron's voice grumbled, and Ryan's eyes locked on my face to assess me, like it'd be written on my forehead who's banging me. Such an idiot.

"Yeah, until she wants to suck someone else. I hear everything about her, man."

Byron released me, and I didn't like it. Not at all. Not when I saw his so clear blue eyes darkening with an anger I saw once when he was a breath away from strangling one of his friends.

Byron's white t-shirt stretched as his muscles flexed more than before. He closed the space between him and Ryan, not caring one bit of the height difference
, and at the moment, I couldn't see it with all the strength Byron was exuding. I hugged myself, not sure what to do now that I unleashed this.

"I hate it when someone makes a move on my girl."

Ryan swallowed loudly, but bravely kept his ground. "I knew her before you did, and since you're not married, she's fair game."

"Not in my world. I'm a soldier
, and in my book, when a girl is taken, she's fucking
taken
."

"I
… But … I didn't know so there's no harm. Right?" he said, both hands up in surrender. He wasn't looking at me anymore.

"Stay away from her," Byron replied very slowly. “I mean it. Got it?’’

Ryan's eyes widened some more, and he nodded, barely glancing my way before he left like a coward. He even looked back twice to be sure he wasn't being followed. Scowling at his retreating back, all the tension left my body, making my muscles turn all sluggish.

Without a word, we started walking back to the parking lot.

"I deserve a back rub," Byron said, breaking the silence, and my wandering thoughts. I had always seen Ryan as a strong guy, but right then, the myth crumbled. I wasn't sure what to think about it.

I shook my head and frowned. "What? Why?"

He bumped my shoulder with his, all playful. "Weren't you there just minutes ago? That tool was about to piss his pants."

I rolled my eyes at his macho talk. He was such a guy. "Oh
, please."

He halted my steps and stopped us in the middle of the parking lot as some cars were driving past us, honking
, and people flipped us the middle finger. "Bridge, he turned green when I told him I'm a soldier and that I hate it when a guy made a move on my girl. So fucking fun." He laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," I mumbled, but I was secretly mesmerized by his face. He was always gorgeous but right now, as his eyes were laughing and his plump lips were turned up
. His whole face was a light in a way I rarely saw. I could see the guy I was sure he was before he went to Afghanistan.

"Hey, you asked me to help you. What's going on
, now?" His smile was fast disappearing, replaced by some kind of annoyance I could only understand.

I waved him off and started walking again. I
weaved between the cars parked and bumped my hip into a side mirror. His car was just at the end of this parking lot. Why did he park so far away? I pushed away my long bangs from my sweaty forehead.

"Bridge," he called me as he ran to catch up with me, his voice bearing his threat, a threat I was sure he would execute if I didn't talk.

I sighed and shrugged with a frustration I wasn't used to. "It's just weird. I was in love with this guy for years. Years! And not only did he use me, made me believe he cared about me for months when I was in high school, but I now also realize that he's a real pussy."

He choked on his laugh. "You didn't just say that."

I frowned at him and pursed my lips. "So what?"

"Fuck. Sometimes you do sound like a dude," he said in some mix between awe and amusement. He fished his keys
from his pocket and unlocked his car.

"What did you expect me to say?"

He opened his door and climbed in. I followed suit, not fond of the idea of walking back home in this heat. And I wasn't much of a walker, which could explain why my legs were not toned.

"Nothing. I never know what will come out of your mouth."

A little smile crept up. "Good. I hate to be predictable."

He
started the car and began driving toward home with our windows down for the wind to refresh us. "Will you give me a back rub?"

I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but I wasn't so sure that I was that successful. "Can't you ask one of the girls you're fucking? It'd be
a good foreplay."

He shook his head and chuckled. "I can't believe you."

"Does that mean I'm off the hook?" I asked with a fake sweet voice, batting my eyelashes at him, making him laugh again.

"No, not at all. As soon as we're back home
, I'll get rid of my shirt, and I want your little hands on my back."

"Careful, Lord, I'm starting to think that you do want me to touch you."

He gazed at me from the corner of his eyes, not really looking away from the road, and it was sexy. He looked good behind the steering wheel with his bare arms lightened by the sun pouring sideways and enhancing the shadows between his muscles. He looked like a real man, the kind who took charge without even thinking. My eyes ran along his body, hugged perfectly by his clothes, and I couldn't ignore how much I enjoyed the view. I had yet to find a place where he wouldn't look hot. Tough task.

"Maybe. But don't tell me you don't want to know
how it would play out if I touched you."

I stiffened and ignored the ache between my legs and the warmth in my belly. "Not really."

"Liar."

"Shut up."

* * *

DAY 20

Byron kicked close the door behind him as I threw my handbag to the floor next to the coffee table. The low clink of the things inside it—like my precious, shiny new toy, which was not a sex toy, but my iPhone 5S—made me cringe at the thought of the damage I caused. Ruffles behind me made me pause. I shook my head, bracing myself for some witty-shitty comeback from the Lord of the apartment, but when I turned around nothing left my mouth. I wasn't even breathing anymore.

The ruffles I heard seconds ago were from him taking off his tee-shirt. Just like th
at. My eyes didn't stay long on his face, drawn by the view of his naked torso with his well-defined, almost bulky, muscles. Even the weird circular scar on his left pec did nothing to deter his sinful appearance, and the bastard knew it. His smirk got to me, and I wasn't sure if it was good or bad at this point.

"What are you doing? If you want to start a career as a stripper, I think you should practice somewhere else," I said, covering my drooling pathetic moment by using my most condescending tone. Not that it did anything to him.

He chuckled, rolled is shoulders, those massive shoulders that I gripped tightly in my most sex-crazed dreams. The muscles played, and I didn't know where to look anymore. "Back rub. Remember?" he purred more than said, his rich voice turning me on so much more that it wasn't even funny. I had a hard time not fidgeting.

"Are you kidding? I already told you I'd do the dishes for the
rest of my trial time here!" I crossed my arms over my chest and squared my shoulders, ready to fight him on this, not because I sucked at massaging guys―in all the right, funny and less funny places―but I knew touching his bare skin would be a huge mistake. Even if a back didn't seem like a dangerous place, when the back was Byron's, it was something else. It wasn't everyday that you could say that the guy you gave a back rub to had a back so muscular that you could draw a fucking map of
all his muscles
. That wouldn't go well; as I was still rilling from the kiss and annoyed out of proportion by his sex life ruining my beauty sleep, it would sure do a weird kind of mix.

"The back rub is tax." He crossed his arms over his chest
, and I died right there. Though, I hid it by pursing disdainfully my plump lips and brushing my long bangs away from my face. The muscles in his arms bulged as his arms crossed over his torso. The sound of his dog tags did nothing to calm me down. In fact, thinking about them made me want to grab them and pull him into me for a scorching kiss. I was out of my mind, and I blamed it on the lack of sleep due to his loud conquests. It was like a cold shower.

"Find someone else, Lord."

"Come on, Lonie," he taunted me, his clear blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Don't call me that."

"Why,
Lonie
?"

The muscles in my jaw tensed
, and I looked away. "Because Ryan used to call me that, making me think that he loved me. The first time he called me Lonie was when he confessed his love, and every time that I hear that fucking nickname, I remember the pain I felt when he mocked me at the graduation ceremony. I realized how much of a fool I'd been."

"Fuck, Bridge. I'm sorry." His voice was low, almost like a whisper
, and it warmed the cold bite in my heart. Bridge as a nickname was ridiculous, but it was something genuine. It was something coming from a real guy, who didn't give a shit about what others might think about him because he was fine with himself, with his lifestyle, and I respected that.

The weight and heat of his hand on my bare shoulder brought me back
, and once again oxygen wasn't passing through my lips. He was going to kill me by asphyxia without even knowing it. I could feel every one of his strong fingers. I could feel the callouses here and there, and yet he wasn't even moving his hand. It was firmly placed on my round shoulder, and I didn't dare move.

"Bridge, I'm sorry. I was being an ass."

I looked up and meet his blue eyes dotted with silver, and the concern in them mellowed me ― exactly what I didn't want. I wrinkled up my nose at him and shook his hand away from me before I took a step back and away from his heat and his … sexyness. Security distance. I needed a big ass perimeter.

"You can apologize by letting me off the hook. No back rub."

"I want your little hands on me, Bridge. Now."

I glanced around us, praying that someone
―even a thief at this point―was hiding behind the sofa to cut me some slack and give me the time to recollect. But no such luck. We weren't being robbed, and I was still facing a muscular guy expecting a back rub. I was unlucky because I was attracted to him, and he was straight. And I was on a trial here, which meant that I had to be the better person. Maturity wasn't fun. At least when you're a teenager and you jumped the bones of a guy, you could blame the new found hormones. Now, not so much even if my hormones were having a world war kind of battle inside my body, he was making my blood boil and causing me to have goosebumps on my skin.

"I can't."

Byron rolled his eyes and sighed like I was a real pain in the ass. “Seriously? Don't play the prude, Bridge. It doesn't suit you."

"I'm not!"

"Good! Then, follow me." He walked past me and down the narrow hall toward … his bedroom. Bedroom! What kind of back rub—or
rub—
was he waiting for?