Kissed By My Roommate by Ember Davis Shacked Up Love Book Read Online And Epub File Download
Overview: ZOEY
I needed place to go after my old roommate flaked and left me homeless and a little desperate. I had no idea I’d find the most insufferable man in all of Denver with a room available. He’s gruff. He’s loud when I wish he was quiet. He has no idea about personal space.
He’s also the best kisser I’ve ever locked lips with. I shouldn’t want him. He’s everything I’ve tried to stay away from.
I should move out, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I hate to admit it, but I’d miss his kisses and I’d miss him.
Maybe being his roommate isn’t so bad. But is that all we are?
JUNIPER
After my sister, Iris, moved out to start her life with her husband, Gavin, I was a little lonely, even though I tried to deny it. The house was too quiet. I didn’t have anyone to take care of anymore. I thought a roommate was a good solution and it would help with the bills.
I should have said no women in the ad because the moment Zoey walks through my door, I want to lock it behind her and never let her go. The problem is she doesn’t seem to like me very much. If only she knew it turns me on when she’s annoyed at me because it lights a fire in her eyes I can’t resist.
I’ll get her to fall for me. I think kissing her is the perfect way to do it.
She’s more than my roommate. She’s mine.
Kissed By My Roommate by Ember Davis Shacked Up Love Book Read Online Chapter One
ZOEY
If he doesn’t stop, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to rip the covers off me, stomp down the stairs and then out to his little shed of noise pollution. I’m not sure what I’ll do when I get down there considering Juniper is so much bigger than me, but I’ll figure out a way to get him to stop.
The racket.
It’s constant. It’s discordant. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Maybe it would give me some sort of relief.
Because there is no way for me to sleep like this.
It’s the third day in a row.
I need to be able to stay up all night for work, but I can’t sleep during the day. Not with the music of Juniper creating art. I wish it wasn’t amazing. I wish it didn’t speak to part of my soul. It would be so much easier to go down there and yell at him if his art was complete shit.
It’s not though. He’s so fucking talented. It makes it much harder to hate him for the noise he makes, even if I do need to get some sleep.
Silence reverberates from his workshop shed, but the remnants of the banging and the sound of the welder are always there, an impression on the very air around us. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to get control of my heartrate and my anger.
It’s quiet. I should take this opportunity and fall asleep. Is that clanging real or is it all in my head? I leap out of bed and tiptoe to the window to see Juniper standing outside the shed while drinking down a bottle of water without taking a breath. His Adam’s apple bobs, sweat pouring off his body.
Holy shit.
It’s sexy as hell.
It reminds me of the day I first came here to see about the room Juniper advertised. My old roommate was moving out to live with her boyfriend and there was no way I was going to be able to afford the apartment alone. To top it off, I couldn’t even get the lease signed over into my name since I couldn’t afford the deposit.
I had no time at all to find a place to live since she sprang the news on me last minute and had already broken the lease for the end of the month. The situation gave me days to find a place to live. I don’t know why I looked through the local ads in the newspaper first, but I did. I figured there wouldn’t be any options there and most people would be putting rentals online.
When I came across the one for a room in a house, I had a feeling it was the right place. It was like something wormed its way inside my head and no matter how many times I looked away from it, my eyes kept going right back. I couldn’t ignore the pull, the need to find out more. I stopped hesitating and set up an appointment to see the place.
When I arrived and knocked on the door there wasn’t an answer at first. I knocked again. I told myself I would wait five minutes and then try again. Who hasn’t been caught going to the bathroom at just the wrong fucking time, making your heart sink and leaving you stuck in a what the hell kind of moment?
When I knocked again, it took only a few seconds for the door to be pulled open with enough force that I was a little concerned about the hinges. I was not prepared for the sight which greeted me on the other side of the door. I was eye level with some big as hell pecs covered in well-defined muscles and glistening with sweat. Not only sweat, but there was also a good layer of grit and grime there.
Oh, and no shirt.
It was…well, let’s just say I was a little concerned about drooling. I may have even tried to wipe the corner of my mouth to double check. I was damn glad I didn’t find any there. How embarrassed I would have been if there had been.
I’m not sure what I expected to find, honestly. I knew Juniper was a man the moment he answered the phone and we set up a time for me to see the house. He sounded gruff on the phone, but you can’t always judge a book by its voice. Or whatever.
When I’m working as an overnight emergency dispatcher, I don’t exactly sound like myself. I sound way more soothing and upbeat than I normally am, but I realize I’m talking to people, for the most part, as they’re experiencing something traumatic. They need me to stay in control and keep it together. They don’t need whatever is going on in my life to touch them, so I leave it at the door.
The longer I’ve lived with Juniper, the harder it’s been to do. It’s a problem.
I didn’t think of any of that when I met the man, and he gave me a tour of the house. I think I was in some sort of arousal fog for most of the tour, watching his muscles bunch and pull with every movement. When he walked in front of me, my eyes immediately went to his ass every time. I’m still not sure how I didn’t reach out and give it a squeeze.
He has one of those asses you could bounce a quarter off. Squeeze worthy. Delectable. It’s the first male ass I’ve thought such things about.
I groan and roll onto my side, trying to get comfortable because thinking about Juniper’s ass is not going to help me fall asleep. Then there are his thighs which are like tree trunks. He must not miss a leg day.
The day I met him, there wasn’t a smirk on his face, which you would expect, when he looked over his shoulder and found me ogling him. There was a demand and a finality in his tone, “I’m not included in the rent, Sweetheart.”
I blinked up at him, embarrassment filling me and heating my cheeks. I would have been more than happy for a hole to open and swallow me whole, but sinkholes never seem to pop up when I need them. So unfortunate.
I should have fled right then, but I found my feet following him. My sass chose that moment to come back full force instead of leaving me gaping and befuddled. I snarked at him, “Are you sure? You could probably charge a lot more if you were.”
Juniper’s eyes widened and then he laughed. I swear, it was his laugh which did me in and is the only thing I can point to as the reason I didn’t heed the warning signs and decided to move in with him. He’s the first man I’ve ever lived with. While our bedrooms are far enough away from each other to make me feel comfortable, I can’t deny I wish we were closer.
Like I wish our naked bodies were plastered against each other closer.
At least, my vagina wants it very much. She’s on board for me going full hussy, stripping down and walking into his room to tempt him. My brain has a whole different argument. My brain thinks it’s the worst idea ever.
I’m torn, to say the least.
Even though Juniper seemed hesitant about me moving in, for whatever reason, I’ve been here two weeks now.
He was very open about the fact he works during the day and showed me his workshop. He said it could get loud. I thought he was just overselling it. You know? Make it sound bad, but it wouldn’t really be as bad as he made it sound.
I was wrong.
It’s so much fucking worse.
I’m not sure if it’s the clanging, the sound of welding or the occasional grunt which makes it untenable for me. I shouldn’t even be able to hear his grunts considering the distance since I don’t open my window. But I hear every single one of them and they might as well be massaging my clit with the way they turn me on.
Even though its quiet now, my eyes are wide fucking open. I rub my hands over my face and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping against hope that sleep takes me like a fucking rich princess being kidnapped. I practice deep breathing. I count sheep.
None of it works.
I rip the sheets off my body, not caring about slipping my robe on as I go stomping out of my room. Apparently, before she moved out to be with the man who swept her off her feet, who happens to be the drummer for the rock band Suburban Outcasts, it was the room where Juniper’s sister, Iris, lived. It has a homey feel to it, though the walls could do with a little updating. I get the feeling the wallpaper hasn’t been changed in quite some time.
Sometimes when I stare at the wall, I think about ripping it down little piece by little piece, but I stop myself. I don’t plan to live here forever. It’s a place I needed because of the situation my old roommate put me in. Living here is not a permanent state of being.
Hell, I’ve only ever been in Juniper’s room once and it was by mistake. Well, not really. I did walk there of my own free will, knowing where I was going, but it was completely innocent. Somehow one of his t-shirts was still in the dryer when I put a load in, and it got tangled up in my stuff. I just went to his room to leave it there for him.
I even power walked to the bed, set it down and then turned around quickly enough that I barely got a look at anything.
Not like I want to look at anything. I don’t. Nothing of Juniper’s at least. Nope. Not a thing.
It did smell really fucking good in there, but that’s not the point. It’s a little detail. One which doesn’t even matter.
Nope, not at all.
I stomp down the stairs, figuring Juniper is still out in his workshop even though he’s gone quiet. It’s not uncommon. He’s probably waxing poetic about the next step in turning metal into art.
Why does he have to be so fucking sexy?
This morning when I got home from work, I found him in the kitchen in only a pair of plaid pajama pants. No fucking shirt. His muscles rippled as he took a drink from his glass of orange juice. He keeps his blonde hair short, but it was still ruffled from sleep.
He looked so fucking sexy.
My mouth went dry and my brain short circuited as I looked at him. He turned toward me slowly, his green eyes, the color of moss, taking me in. I swear I felt his eyes on me as if he was touching me. It was heady as hell.
Since I was tired, it was so much harder for me to keep up my normal defenses, but I still scowled at him. He’s the reason I can’t sleep when I need to sleep. He’s the one who has invaded my dreams. He’s the one who has made it so I can’t be comfortable in the place I’m living.
Because I want to jump him and climb him like a tree.
Does he have to be so damn sexy? Like a taunt and a tease and torture all rolled up into one.
I bet his arms would feel so strong around me. I’ve seen the art he makes; I have no doubt he would be good with his hands. He could mold me into something amazing and I wouldn’t mind.
I’d probably, to my embarrassment, thank him for it.
The problem is that I’m not looking for some hook-up. Been there, done that and I’m looking for something more. The next man I’m with is going to be the last man.
I made a vow to myself, even though I have no idea where it came from. I think it was after my last one-night stand over a year ago. I woke up in a place I didn’t know, next to a man I didn’t want to see in the light, and I had an epiphany, complete with a lightbulb turning on over my head cartoon style.
I was done continuing to chase something I knew would be unfulfilling. It’s been a year full of using my B.O.B., which isn’t the same, but it’s been better in so many other ways. I’m not worried about putting on airs or impressing someone.
I’m looking for something real and Juniper has heartbreak written all over him. It’s in his scowl.
I let out a scream when I walk into the kitchen to find Juniper standing at the sink, the white wifebeater he has on covered in metal fragments, sweat and dirt. He whirls around, his arms up as if he’s ready to defend me from some threat. Little does he know the only threat I have is from the 6’3” man standing in his own kitchen.
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