The Roommate Equation

“Hey!” Ash throws a couch pillow at Sloan’s head. “I can cook. I’ve lived on my own for years, thank you very much.”

Sloan snickers. “Right. If I’m not mistaken, you set off the smoke detector making eggs.”

Ash frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “That was one time. And it was an accident.”

My eyes fall to her cleavage that spills out from her red tank top. She loves that color, and it suits her. Her nails are painted crimson to match her plump lips that are still imprinted into my brain after all these years. I can still recall how they felt against mine, how she tasted like cherries and summer.

Some things you never forget.

For me, Ash is one of those things and a constant reminder of how much I can lose control. How much I need to stay in control.

“The guesthouse is fine with me,” Ash says with a defiant expression on her beautiful face. “I’d rather not see the skank parade you two bring home with you, anyway.”

Sloan chuckles. “I’ll be on my best behavior while you’re here.” He holds up three fingers and says. “Scouts honor. And you’re not staying in the guest house.”

“How long do you plan to stay?” I ask and come off sounding rude as fuck.

Well, in my defense, this is my house. Is it rude to want to know when our guest is leaving? I don’t think so. This is an imposition for all of us. Sloan or I are not used to having a woman in the house for more than one night.

Ash presses her lips together.

Fuck, those sweet red lips could kill me. I want them wrapped around my cock, taking every inch of me. Making me come so hard I see stars.

Get your shit together, Dylan.

Head in the game.

“This situation sucks,” Ash says, her eyes fixed on me. “But we can make the best of it, right?”

She glides the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip, knowing how to work every nerve in my body. We hate each other, or at least strongly dislike each other. I’m not sure what to think when it comes to Ash. I have to stay as far away from her as humanly possible while she’s eating, sleeping, and bathing under my roof.

Fuck, the thought of her naked and wet, with the water running between her perky breasts…

I need air.

And a beer.

Lots and lots of beer.

And a fucking lobotomy.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and nod. “Yeah, we’ll figure it out.”

“And to answer your question, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I’m homeless until I can get enough cash to pay my rent.”

“I’ll write your landlord a check in the morning,” Sloan says with authority.

“No you won’t,” Ash snaps. “I don’t want or need your charity.”

“It’s not a big deal, Ash.”

“It is for me. So leave it alone. Let me pay my own bills.” She shoots him a nasty look. “Okay?”

A concerned look crosses Sloan’s face. “Fine, if that’s what you want.”

She nods. “Thank you.”

“You can stay here for as long as you want.”

Ash smiles in response.

“Now that we have that settled,” Sloan says, somewhat annoyed, “let’s have a drink.”

He moves into the kitchen in search of beer. We have an open floor plan where the kitchen, living room, and dining room are all one floor. I stand in the center of the living room, several feet behind the couch, unsure of what to do next. Even in my own house, Ash makes me uncomfortable. No amount of space or distance between us will ever take that away.

Ash looks at me, her top lip raised an inch. She should hate me. I handled things like shit five years ago.

“Hey, D,” Sloan says to me as he uncaps a bottle of beer. “Can you take my sister’s bags to her room?”

When did I become the butler?

“Yeah.” I glance over at the pile of crap Ash brought from her apartment and groan. “Sure. Where am I putting it?”

“I’ll do it,” Ash announces. She slides off the couch and strolls past me. “I don’t want anyone touching my stuff.”

“Whatever,” I deadpan.

She bends forward to lift the large plastic container and whines, grabbing her lower back in pain. Annoyed with her independence, I close the distance between us, stopping a few feet behind her. I throw my hands onto my hips, willing my cock to calm down because she’s wearing the tightest spandex shorts ever made.

Fuck, I need to get away from her.

I haven’t had sex in a while, not with how busy we are with Date Crashers, and Ash is not helping the situation.

“Now, do you need help?”

Wincing, Ash rises to her full height and glares at me. “Like I would ever ask you for help. You would have to be the last man alive, and even then, I would rather die trying before I came to you for anything.” She lowers her voice. “We both know how well that turned out the last time I needed your help.”