The Roommate Agreement

He joined me right as I was coming down from the high, groaning my name into the side of my neck. His lips burned where he touched me, and as I ran my fingers through his hair, still breathing heavily, I knew one thing.

Everything had changed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – SHELBY

No Pants Are The Best Pants

“We need to talk.”

Jay blinked at me. “I just stepped through the door.”

“Really? I thought you’d flown in through the window.” I rolled my eyes. “In light of the changing circumstances in our relationship, we need to talk.”

“Oh, good,” he drawled, shutting the door behind him and dumping his gym bag. “Those are the four words anyone likes to hear less than twenty-four hours after sex.”

I shot him a withering look. “I ordered food.”

“Is it pizza?”

“I got salad with it.”

“Your diet—”

“Is shit, I know, and I don’t care right now.” I grinned and pointed my pen at him. “We need to discuss the roommate agreement.”

He eyed me speculatively as he pulled juice from the fridge. “You’re not going to make me sign a relationship agreement, are you?”

“No. We’re not quite there yet.”

“Shelby, we had one date, and where did I wake up this morning?” He quirked a brow. “In your bed. I think we’re there.”

“We had one date. Unless we have another and agree to be exclusive, we’re not there.”

“All right. Let’s go out tonight, and you’re now my girlfriend. How does that sound?”

He was insufferable. “You can’t just declare that I’m your girlfriend. Relationships aren’t dictatorships. You can’t make that decision.”

“Fine. Then I’m your boyfriend. Either way, we’re now exclusive.” He smirked and leaned forward on the island, making his biceps strain against his t-shirt.

“That’s really not fair when you do that.”

“Are you wearing a bra right now?”

I swallowed and looked down. Hi, nipples. “I’ve been working all day. Frankly, you’re lucky I’m wearing pants.”

“I’d like to argue and call that unlucky.”

Any day where pants were required was an unlucky one in my opinion. Then again, I had spent the whole day wearing just panties, fluffy socks, and a tank top, so maybe today wasn’t all that bad.

“Which brings me to my first point of discussion. Rule one: must wear pants.” I tapped the pen against it. “I propose that all points regarding wearing clothing be removed.”

Jay leaned forward, his lips twisting upward. “I’m listening.”

“I discovered last night that, actually, I’m quite fond of no pants, so rule one should be: no pants are the best pants.”

“Done.”

I pursed my lips. “How did I know there would be absolutely no resistance from you with that one?”

He held his hands up before grabbing his water. “I am extremely fond of you with no pants. In fact, feel free to remove yours right now if you’d be more comfortable.”

I rested my elbows on the island and pointed my pen at him again. “You didn’t pick up your socks this morning. The only way you’re getting inside these pants is if you take them off.”

“Is that an offer?”

“Not until you pick up your freakin’ socks.”

“What is it with you and socks? They’re right up there with Oreos. Borderline obsession.”

I shrugged. “I’m a tidy person with unhealthy eating habits. What can I say?”

“One day, you’ll come to the gym with me.” He wiggled the bottle at me.

“Absolutely not.” I shook my head. “You know those couples where you look at them and you’re like, ‘Whoa, shit, he’s punching?’ That’s what’s going to happen here. I’ll sit with my extra fifteen pounds snuggling my ass, thighs, and boobs, and you can sit there miserable because you have to work out to look that good.”

“You have an extra fifteen pounds? Where?”

I opened my mouth, stopping when I saw his smirk. “More responses like that, and I’ll take my pants off bymyself.”

“Good. If you have an extra five pounds on your ass—and I think you’re full of shit—I happen to be a fan of that.”

“You’re pushing it now.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care. You see an extra fifteen pounds; I see hot as fuck. It works.”

My cheeks flushed. “Yes, well…”

“You really are adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

I hit him with a look, pursing my lips so I didn’t smile at him. “Next up: we have to assume that at some point, if I don’t kill you, you’ll move into my room.”

“Wait. Why am I moving into your room?” He flattened his hands on the island.

“Would you like to sleep in your room tonight knowing that me and my extra fifteen pounds of hotness are on the other side of the wall? In the bigger bedroom?”

He went to say something then stopped, shaking his head. “That would last all of about ten minutes. I can’t sleep with my hand cupping your boob if there’s a wall between us.”

Yeah. That was way more comfortable for him than me. It didn’t matter that it was comfortable when I put my hand on my boob. I bet it wouldn’t be comfortable for him if I spent the entire night with my hand on his cock.