Resisting my Roommate (Sycamore Falls #3)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

JUDE

A sliver of soft, golden light filters through the curtains in my darkened bedroom, gradually rousing me from a restful sleep. I’m exhausted, but in the best way possible. I haven’t felt this satisfied in a long time. This rested. This at peace. All because of Abbey.

Desperate to feel her body against mine, I roll over, expecting her to still be next to me. But when I’m met with cold sheets, I snap my eyes open, confused to learn I’m alone.

Normally, I’d be happy to find my bed empty after spending the night with a woman. But I hate that Abbey’s not here. Hate that, despite promising she’d stay, she snuck out anyway.

Or maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe she needed to use the bathroom.

I slip out of bed and grab a pair of gym shorts from the dresser, tugging them on before heading out of the room. Abbey’s door is open so I peek inside, furrowing my brow when I see her duvet is slightly askew, her sheets wrinkled. It was made when I stopped by to grab something yesterday afternoon. And since Abbey was working all day, the only time she would have been able to sleep in the bed was last night.

When did she leave my room? And why?

Even more unsettling, why do I care?

I continue down the stairs, thinking maybe she’s doing yoga in the living room or sipping on a coffee in the kitchen — something she usually did in the morning before things became strained. Since then, she’s limited the amount of time she’s spent outside of her room, at least whenever I’ve been home.

But she’s not down here, either.

She’s nowhere.

I don’t know why I’m so bothered by her unexpected disappearance. She’s free to come and go as she pleases.

But I hate the way it makes me feel.

Needing to clear my mind, I head back upstairs and toss on some running clothes. While some people hate running, I’ve always enjoyed it. It helps me block out everything else going on in my life and focus solely on putting one foot in front of the other.

But no matter how hard I try to think of anything other than my night with Abbey, she keeps weaseling her way back into my mind. The way she moved, the taste of her lips, the warmth of her skin against mine — it all floods back, leaving me wanting more of her.

Leaving me wanting all of her.

It’s a selfish thought, considering I’m not sure I can have all of her.

I’m not sure I deserve to have all of her.

A voice that sounds surprisingly like Finn echoes in my head, reminding me that I could have her if I would just get over myself and stop worrying about the past repeating itself.

But am I willing to put myself through that again?

Am I ready to put myself through that again when I still struggle with the loss?

Hell, the day I found Abbey in the nursery was the first time I’d peeked inside that room in years. We all mourn in our own ways, I suppose. We all handle our grief differently. Whereas I refused to so much as even look at that room, Krista spent nearly every hour of every day in there, crying herself to sleep until all her tears were gone.

Then, one day, she was gone, too.

I fight to push down the memory as I wind my way back down Main Street, skirting by a few locals who are starting their Saturday morning with breakfast at the diner or a cup of coffee at the local café.

And then I see her.

Abbey’s sitting at a table outside the coffee shop, leisurely sipping on an iced coffee and reading. Her sunglasses hide her eyes and her dark hair is styled in a loose braid cascading over her shoulder, most likely hiding the teeth marks I left on her neck last night.

A rush of possessiveness shoots through me from the memory, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m marching up to her, coming to a stop in front of her table.

Sensing my presence, she darts her head up, inhaling sharply when she sees me.

“Jude.” She removes her sunglasses. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes dance over my frame as I try to catch my breath. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head, unsure how to respond. This is why I don’t get attached. Why I avoid anything serious. I’m all twisted up inside and hate it.

“What are you doing here?” I finally ask.

“Having a coffee.” She brings the straw back to her mouth. It reminds me of the night we met. How I imagined what her red lips would look like wrapped around my cock.

After last night, I now know.

“There’s a coffee machine at home. One that also makes ice coffee.”

“It’s such a nice morning. I figured I’d come down here and support a local business.” She returns her attention to her e-reader, as if we’re no one to each other.

As if we didn’t spend last night fucking each other until we physically had nothing left.

When I pull out the vacant chair across from her and sit down, she finally looks up from her e-reader. I lean closer so no one can overhear. “Is this because of last night?”

“It has nothing to do with that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Last night was fun, but I’m not na?ve, Jude. I know you prefer to keep yourself…unattached. I’m okay with that.”

“I don’t?—”

“It’s not a big deal.” She reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. “I didn’t sleep with you because I hoped it might turn into something.”

Her words sting more than I thought they would. “You didn’t?”

It’s one thing to set boundaries.

It’s another to have them set for you.

“I get it. You’re not interested in anything serious. Now that I know what happened, I don’t think you can be interested in anything serious. Not until you finally come to terms with your past. And that’s okay.” She assures me without a hint of accusation or incrimination. “I’m only here temporarily anyway, so we don’t need to turn last night into more than what it was. Two consenting adults indulging in their cravings. Okay?”

Taking a sip of her coffee, she returns her eyes to her e-reader. I have no idea how she can appear so collected when I want to throw her on the table and have my way with her, especially after hearing her talk about us indulging in our cravings.

This is uncharted territory for me. Usually, I’m the one setting the ground rules. Not because I’m an ass, but because I don’t like making promises I can’t keep.

But there’s something about having this conversation with Abbey that feels inherently wrong.

“So it was just a one-time thing?” I ask in a shaky voice as I fight to mask my emotions over the idea.

“It can be.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Or, I suppose it would technically be a three-time thing in our case.”

A blush creeps up her cheeks and she bites down on her bottom lip, obviously remembering the two additional orgasms I gave her throughout the night.

“What I’m trying to say is I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. We can just go back to the way things were, preferably before things got messy so we can continue our Sunday night bowling tradition. The game’s growing on me.”

“Is that what you want?” I arch a brow. “To go back to the way things were? Did you not enjoy yourself last night?”

“You know I did,” she answers, unable to hide the deepening shade of red on her cheeks.

“So did I. And I think it would be a disservice to deprive ourselves of even more great sex.” I drop my voice again, a playful edge sneaking in. “Especially now that we know how incredible we can be together.”

“So…what? We’d be friends with benefits? Or roommates with benefits?”

I’m not even sure what kind of arrangement I’m proposing. All I know is that last night with Abbey was unlike anything I’ve experienced before, and I can’t bear the thought of never feeling that again.

Never feeling her again.

“Something along those lines,” I finally answer. “We’re both mature adults and know the score going in. I won’t make any promises, and I don’t expect you to, either.”

“So…just sex,” she clarifies.

“Just sex,” I confirm, although a small voice in the back of my head warns me this is a disaster waiting to happen. But I can’t think about that right now. All I can think about is the memory of Abbey’s body trembling beneath me, her nails leaving marks on my skin as I drove into her.

“Okay. Just sex.” She extends her hand toward me.

I eye it warily. “What’s that for?”

“Shouldn’t we shake on it?”

“Perhaps, but I have a better idea.”

She arches a brow. “And what’s that?”

I push to stand and wrap my hand around hers. When I yank her to her feet and into my body, a gasp escapes her throat.

I curve toward her, able to make out my teeth marks on her neck from last night.

“I think we should fuck on it, Abbey,” I growl.

A sinful smile tugs on her lips. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”