Even with my new roommate in residence, I still couldn’t sleep. Hence my presence in my workshop at around three in the morning. The good news: I had twenty-three mailers filled, addressed, and ready to take to the post office. Twenty-three orders filled.
Fourteen and counting to go.
I’d just finished crinkling plastic pour cups to remove dried resin when the door behind me burst open, slamming against a workbench, sending my heart into near-death-experience pounding. The cups flew in my frantic search for a weapon. I lunged for the closest hammer then reached for a second. Turning, ready to let one fly at my attacker, I stopped short at the sight of R.D. standing in the doorway, wearing only a pair of red boxer briefs with a black waistband, holding Tulip under his left arm, a trickle of blood caught in his mustache.
I hurried toward them. “What happened?”
“This.” He held up Tulip in both hands, Lion King style. “This happened.”
The move exposed a dark tattoo over his left pectoral, a black dagger with a banner circling it. Death before dishonor. Close as I was, I finally got a good look at the large tattoo covering most of his left arm, a long vine with dozens of leaves in vibrant shades of green. Each leaf had a name and numeric date etched in black. I couldn’t help but reach out and touch it. “Who are all these people?” I asked, even though in my heart, which now ached for him, I knew.
“Buddies who lost their lives fighting for our country.”
“So many.” So much loss. I turned his arm to see the underside, noting some female names.
“Here.” He ended my perusal by pushing Tulip at my chest. She immediately pressed her warm body to mine, burrowed her silky head into the side of my neck, and sighed contentedly as I pet her back. Simple as that, I knew what had happened, at least in part. “I’m sorry. I left her asleep in my bed.” I stopped petting long enough to open a drawer and take out a few tissues. “Since that incident with Dorian, she’s become a stage-five clinger.” I handed them to R.D. “I’m guessing she started howling when she realized I wasn’t in bed with her.”
“I have never heard a sound like that before.” He blotted at the blood. “Found her by the door leading here.”
When my girl had a strong opinion about something, she did not hesitate to express herself–loudly–by tossing back her head and letting out an aaaahhhhwoowoowoowoo. Stopping only to breathe before starting all over again until she got what she wanted. In this case, to be with me in the shop.
“That doesn’t explain your nose.” Or the growing red mark on his forehead.
He turned away. “Thought it was you screaming. I, uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “don’t usually sleep so hard. Jumped out of bed before realizing where I was.” He shook his head. “Ran into the wall.”
In his haste to come to my rescue. My heart did a little flip of appreciation.
“Come on.” I reached for my keys. “Let’s get some ice on your face.” The least I could do for my would-be protector. After locking the workshop, I followed him back to the house, trying not to enjoy the movement of his round, firm butt cheeks in his tight underwear as he walked briskly on his bare feet. Trying to avoid staring at the pale skin of his broad back in stark contrast to the colorful tattooed sleeves on both muscled arms, highlighted in the moonlight.
Failing miserably.
Back inside, I directed R.D. to sit on the couch while I grabbed two plastic sandwich bags and filled them with ice.
Surprisingly, he obeyed without comment, sitting with his head tilted back against the wall, wrapping his upper torso in the afghan, leaving his lap and lower legs bare. Since his legs had that manspreading thing going on, I walked in between his thighs to get close enough to apply the ice bags to his face. After wrapping each baggie in a paper towel, I set one on his nose and one on his forehead. The outer part of my leg rubbed against the inner portion of his, the contact bringing my attention in that direction.
He had a long, healed incision running up the outer side of his right thigh.
He bumped his leg into mine and opened an eye. “Maybe you should put some clothes on.”
I looked down at my tank, sleep shorts, and bare feet. “It’s hot in the workshop.” Although I had put on my long sweater and work boots to go out there, I’d taken off the sweater almost immediately.
He eyed my chest. “You’re not in the shop anymore.”
I looked down again, this time to see my hardened nipples making their presence known. He shifted on the couch, which brought my gaze farther down…to him and the beginnings of an impressive erection.
My body heated.
“Ignore it,” he said, closing his eye.
As if I could look away from his reaction to me. His need.
I could soothe him, prove him wrong, show him—heck, show myself—that I could handle a man like him, that I was enough to satisfy him all on my own. He didn’t need a second woman around to help. But, lawdy, he was a big ‘un. Under my gaze, his erection grew.
“You’re staring.”
“I can’t help myself.”
“Try harder.”
Harder. A laugh escaped. So did, “There’s nothing perfectly fine about you, is there, big guy?”
A drop of moisture darkened the red fabric of his briefs where it cupped the head of his dick.
My mouth watered. My tongue tingled in anticipation of a taste.
His breathing became rougher, his chest rising and falling more noticeably. He shifted his position again, ever so slightly.
I dropped to my knees…to give him relief. Leaned forward…
Without warning, he pushed to his feet, ice packs falling to the floor, forgotten, as he carefully stepped around me and headed down the hall. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“A cold one?” I asked, saying the first stupid thing that popped into my head.
“No, Lily.” He turned his heated glare on me. “A nice, hot, relaxing shower. With lots of soapy suds for…lubrication.”
My. Goodness.
You know that phrase, “my jaw hit the floor”? Well, if that were possible while in a standing position, mine would have.
I never found the word “lubrication” to be arousing. Until I heard it coming out of R.D.’s mouth. And, while he took his randy dick to beat one out in my bathtub, I took off for the privacy of my bedroom, turned the lock, and dove for the bed. Seconds later, I had my knees bent and spread wide and my hand down the front of my panties.
I remembered the scent of his arousal, the size and shape. I imagined his big body in my shower, all wet and sudsy, his hand gliding smoothly up and down his erection. Up down. Up down. His movements frantic, same as mine, as we both raced toward sweet release.
Later that morning, after a few hours of restless sleep, before I even opened my eyes, the memory of me getting ready to go down on R.D. and him almost knocking me over in his rush to escape barged into my mind. “Crap.” I tossed my arm over my eyes to block the sun, content to stay in bed all day if it meant not having to see my roommate. Although, we were both scheduled to work that night. There’d be no avoiding him then.
Well, I did what I did, and he did what he did, and there’d be no taking either back.
After rolling out of bed, I pulled on a pair of mint-green joggers and a Moo U sweatshirt I’d purchased during my brief time as a college student, feeling the need to cover up in preparation for…whatever was about to happen. I fought back any hint of embarrassment, refusing to feel shame.
But I couldn’t get past a sense of dread as I slowly pulled open my bedroom door. Seeing his door ajar, I peeked in as I walked past. His duffle and backpack were in the middle of his neatly made bed, both stuffed and zipped and ready to go somewhere away from me.
I’d made my coworker, Griff’s friend, so uncomfortable in my home that he felt the need to flee after one night. My legs felt weighted as I forced them to carry me down the hallway.
R.D. sat in the recliner, head back, eyes closed. From where I stood, I couldn’t see any redness on his forehead and only a hint of bruising on his nose. Tulip lay curled in his lap as he ran his hand over her back in gentle, rhythmic strokes.
While I watched the scene before me, R.D. opened his eyes. “You’re staring.”
Busted. “It’s just…Tulip. She never cuddled up to Dorian.” In fact, whenever he was home, she either followed me everywhere or hid under the bed.
“Dogs are excellent judges of character.”
Apparently so. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “About last night. I never should have…assumed you’d…want a…” Lord help me, this was difficult.
“I’m sorry, too,” he said, sounding tired. “Take a seat.” He motioned toward the scene of last night’s fiasco. After I did, he said, “Lily—”
“Can I go first?” I cut him off. “There’s something,” I pulled my legs up onto the couch and placed one of the throw pillows onto my lap, “well, a few things I’d like to say.”
He gave me a slow nod.
I hadn’t given much thought to what I should say, but honesty seemed the best way to go. Head down, because looking at the pillow would be easier than looking at his expression, I began. “At dinner yesterday, I told you my mother died when I was fourteen, but I didn’t go into detail. That’s because she was killed. In our apartment, actually. In her bed.” I pulled at a loose piece of pink yarn, twisting it around my finger. “I’d gone to a sleepover at my friend’s house. Sometime during the night, someone broke into our home and killed her.”
“Lily…”
It sounded like he’d moved closer. I held up my hand to stop him. “Let me get this out.” I took a deep breath before continuing. “When she didn’t come to pick me up at the agreed-upon time, and I couldn’t reach her by phone, my friend’s dad drove me home. I don’t know if he had any idea what might have happened, but he parked the car and walked me in.” Thank goodness he did. “We found her…” Anguish clogged my throat. I cleared it away. “Naked. Covered in…” Blood.
The couch cushion beside me moved as R.D. sat down. At the same time, Tulip jumped up on my other side and lay down beside my thigh.
“You think you’re safe in your own home, you know?” I shook my head, petting Tulip. “You’re not.”
Without saying a word, he pulled the hand not petting Tulip into his.
“I can’t help thinking about it, even now, years later. What she went through, the shock, the fear, the panic, the…pain. I imagine him, her attacker,” I clarified. “Prowling around our apartment in the dark. Opening her bedroom door. Seeing her there, maybe watching her.” It still gave me chills.
He squeezed my hand between both of his.
Glancing up at him, I said, “I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me. I just want you to understand that I carry that with me.”
“Of course, you do.”
“They never found him.” Maybe if they had, I wouldn’t be so screwed up. “He’s still out there. Sometimes at night, I lie awake, listening, trying to plan out what I’d do if he or someone like him broke in.”
“Not a baseball fan, then?” he asked quietly.
I shook my head. The wooden bat beside my bed was for protection. On the off chance I heard my attacker before he made it into my bedroom.
“I don’t sleep well,” I went on. “When I’m here alone, in the dark, I don’t sleep at all. Since Dorian moved out, I’ve been existing, barely, on naps during the day when I can grab an hour here or there. I’d hoped having you in the next room would relax me, but I’ve been such a wreck that now I’m behind on my resin work, and stress from that kept me awake. It’s not an excuse for what I did, but I’m exhausted.” I felt a tear slip out of the corner of my eye so I looked down, hoping he wouldn’t see. “And obviously not making good decisions.”
I shifted on the couch to face him. “I let Dorian stick around way longer than I should have.”
“So you wouldn’t be alone.”
I nodded. “It’s become a pattern with me. A pattern I want to break. I’ve decided, as soon as I can pay down my credit card debt and save up some money, I’m going to invest in a security system. And, after you, no more male roommates.”
“I think that’s a good plan.”
“Only if you’ll stay. I need some time. A few weeks.”
He didn’t respond, so I kept on talking.
“Dorian’s cheating really shook me up. Made me question…everything about myself. What did I do wrong? What could I have done better, should I have done better? Was I not attractive enough? Sweet enough? Sexy enough?” Good enough…
He let out a grunty sound, maybe a kind of laugh, but I didn’t acknowledge it, just plowed on. “And there you were, this strong, handsome guy, getting turned on by me. Not gonna lie, it gave me a little ego boost. Maybe too much of a boost. It got me wanting to prove things to you, to myself.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
“You’re a good guy. An honorable guy. Do you think if it’d been Kurt in your position, he would have walked away?”
R.D. stiffened beside me.
We both knew the answer.
“It almost killed me,” he said, looking down at our hands. “Between being deployed, my mother dying and my accident, I haven’t been with a woman in well over a year. Maybe closer to two. Had it been another woman, I probably would not have stopped.”
Ouch. “Gee, thanks.”
He reached for my chin and turned my head toward his until our eyes met. “You very recently ended a two-year relationship. You specifically set the no-sex rule for a reason.”
“Then I try to break it the first night you’re here.” I didn’t deserve him as a roommate.
“You are not a fling sort of woman, and I’m not a relationship sort of guy. Not now, anyway. My life is…unsettled. My career is uncertain. I’m dealing with some shit and can’t…”
“Deal with me?” I finished for him.
He ran a hand over his face and down his beard. “You tempt me.”
That shouldn’t give me a tiny thrill, but it did.
“I can be less tempting.”
He laughed.
“Seriously. I can wear baggy sweats and skip showers on my days off. I can nag you to pick your clothes up off the floor and wash your dishes.”
“I never leave my clothes on the floor and I always wash my dishes right after I use them.”
Of course, he did. “What if I swear on my mother’s grave, something I have never done before, that I will not put the moves on you again. That I will keep my distance. I mean, as much as I can with the two of us living in this tiny house.”
He didn’t respond.
Okay, then. “I’m not going to beg.” I tried to pull my hand away. He tightened his grip.
“Okay.”
“Okay, you’ll stay?”
“I’ll give it a week, see how things go.”
“Thank you!” I lunged at him, gave him the biggest hug. “Thank you, so much.” When he didn’t hug me back, I realized my mistake and pulled away. Oops. “Sorry. No hugs. After that one, no hugs at all. Ever again.”
Rather than angry, he looked amused.
“Come on, roomie.” I stood, pulling on his hand. “Let’s go to The Busy Bean to celebrate. Coffee and muffins are on me.”
The next day, I convinced R.D. to return his rental car. We worked the same shifts, my house was within walking distance of town, and I had no problem with him borrowing my old van if he needed to go anywhere. So, he noticed the Speakeasy cocktail napkin tucked beneath my windshield wiper right about the same time I did. Then, he watched me remove it and shove it into my back pocket.
In response to his questioning raised eyebrow, I gave no response.
He didn’t push the issue.
To fill the quiet, I chatted on about a new order I’d gotten for a resin river coffee table similar to the one in my living room. How I had the perfect slab of wood and hoped to start on it in the next day or two. I talked colors and types of legs and before I knew it, we were parked and walking into the bar.
After storing my pocketbook in a locker, I ran to the ladies’ room to read today’s note:
Don’t let a little negativity stop you from seeing all the good that’s around.
Whether male or female, someone trying to boost my mood or a secret admirer, the person who sent me that particular motivational quote had chosen a perfect reminder. One I really needed. One worth breaking out my whiteboard again.
I’d worry about the fact this anonymous person knew where I lived later. R.D. wouldn’t let anyone get to me…for as long as he stayed.