Jock Reign (Jock Hard 5)

“Okay. Roman needs an apartment…” My sentence trails off as I wait for him to finish his thought.

“And we have that extra room now that we’re shacking up.”

I bury my face in his shoulder. “Don’t call it that!”

“Muah, muah, MUAH!” He kisses the side of my neck enthusiastically. “I love shacking up with you, babe.” More kisses.

He is more romantic than I ever would have given him credit for, surprising me with home-cooked meals and date nights. The other evening he rented a movie on demand and had the living room set up with popcorn and snacks and folded blankets for snuggling. He loves rubbing my feet if I lay my legs across him, and he loves making out.

Jack loves kissing.

And I love Jack.

Eventually I’ll have the nerve to tell him, but for now we’re enjoying our time together without any pressure.

“Focus!” I nudge him. “What’s up with this Roman dude?”

The suspense is killing me!

“You’re no fun—I want to snog my girlfriend.” He sobers up again and cuts to the chase. “Anyway, Rome is Phil’s mate from back home, and he’s a mid-semester transfer in a bit of a spot. Needs a place to live, and now we have that extra room…”

I raise my brows. “You want to rent out my bedroom?”

“No, I’m asking you your opinion. What do you think of the idea? I told Phil we’d discuss it.”

My body relaxes. “I mean—we don’t even know this guy. Don’t you think we should meet him first?”

Jack nods. “Of course. I can shoot Phil a message, tell him to pass along my mobile, then we can invite this bloke over. Let him see the place, feel him out. Are you okay with that?”

Yeah, I’m totally okay with that. What’s the harm?

I’m not using my bedroom anyway; just my clothes are in there, and I occasionally use the small desk, but not really. The space is going to waste, and if Jack could collect the rent money he was supposed to be collecting from me but doesn’t—I wouldn’t feel like a mooch.

Well.

I’d still feel like a mooch, but I’d feel better about it with that room rented out.

Decision made, I nod definitively. “Cool. Let’s do it. Shoot Phil a text.”

Epilogue One

Jack

There’s a chap standing on the doorstep when I pull open the front door, rain drizzling around him, soaking him to the socks.

And he is wearing socks.

With sandals.

I don’t give a fuck about fashion, but I know bloody well you don’t wear socks with sandals, and Eliza would be the first one to tell me so.

“You must be Jack?”

He regards me with fogged-up lenses, his glasses perched at the tip of his nose.

“Hey mate—come on in.” I glance down at his footwear. “Erm, would you mind taking off your flops?”

“Oh shit,” he curses. “Sorry, no problem.”

He’s dripping water on the floor—through no fault of his own, but he’s dripping water on the floor.

I’ll be the one cleaning that up if my girlfriend sees, so I need this bloke to take off his sandals—probably should take off his socks since they’re soggy, too, but that’s just weird, isn’t it?

It would be odd having his moist socks chilling on my foyer floor.

Anyway.

I digress.

“Eliza, Roman is here!” She’s upstairs and was taking a shower, wanting to jazz herself up a bit to meet the chap, though I can’t figure out why she’d care. Maybe she just wants to be clean, who knows.

“Be down in a second!”

Roman seems a bit shyer than I would have expected given that our mutual mate Phil is a loud, obnoxious lad who always has something to say about everything. I wonder briefly what their history is and how close of friends they actually are, but the fact is it would be really great if this all worked out—not because I need the rent money, but because it would be a blast to finish out the year with a third person in the house.

Eliza and I have loads of fun, but you know what they say, the more the merrier.

My roommate-lover-girlfriend appears at the top of the stairs, bounding down looking all sorts of cute and adorable and chipper, hair in a ponytail at the top of her head.

And damn she smells good.

She thrusts her hand out toward Roman. “Hi, I’m Eliza.”

Her eyes dart down to his sodden feet, sans footwear, and I catch the brief lifting of her brows before she schools her features.

“I’m Roman, but you can call me Rome.” He shoves his hands into the pocket of his khaki shorts. “Thanks for having me over. You’d really be helping me out if this works out.”

“Well, we hope so too!” Eliza’s cheery announcement sends her ponytail swaying. “Let’s show you around and then maybe chat in the kitchen?” She starts toward it. “Are you an early bird or a night owl?” she asks him on the way.