Alphahole (Alphahole Roommates 1)

He sits down.

“Motherfucking jerk,” I grumble, staring at my phone on the floor.

“What did I do now?”

“Not you. Jon.”

“Jon Who?”

“My ex. Forget about it, Hot Sauce.” I wave my hand and take a swig from the nearly empty wine bottle.

He laughs.

“You got nics for me, I’ll keep usin’ nics on you. Here. Not at the office. You call me Peaches at work and I’ll maim you. Why peaches, though?”

He looks at my chest.

“Oh.” I roll my eyes.

“There’s also that booty. Like a perfect round peach.” He wiggles his eyebrows and makes a grabbing motion in front of him with his hands.

I scrunch up my nose.

“I like you callin’ me Hot Sauce a lot better than Banana Thief,” he informs.

“Well…” I take a swig of my wine from the bottle. He waits for me to swallow, a big smile on his face. “Keep bein’ hot then. And stop stealin’ bananas.”

He scoots over close to me, then grabs my ankles and pulls my feet out from under me, into his lap.

“What’re you doing?” I demand, trying to pull back.

He doesn’t let go.

He pulls my flipflops off and tosses them to the floor.

“Even your feet are cute, you know that?” He’s massaging my feet.

“Huh?” I try to sit up, yanking my sweatshirt dress down my thighs as it was dangerously close to riding up way too high.

He squeezes the arch of my foot and I groan and flop back.

“Oh wow, that’s…”

I don’t have words, so I don’t bother. I don’t think I’ve ever had a foot massage from a man. Nope, never. This is way better than the foot massages my mani pedi salon begrudgingly gives back home in Buffalo. You can tell they’re talking in their language about how gross our feet are as they slough dead skin away and then they fake smile as they’re forced to squeeze our feet with their rubber gloves on.

“Sorry I’ve been a bad roommate. I’ll do better.” He’s smiling at me. Eyes twinkling. Fingers working magic on my heels.

At least I had the sense to have a pedi before I came here. I’d be mortified if he had my feet in his hands and they were peeling or rough or had flaking nail polish.

“Yeah?” I ask hopefully.

“Yeah,” he assures and keeps squeezing my feet.

“Okay.” I smile. I put my head down on the arm of the comfy slouchy couch. Wow, that’s nice. Comfy couch. Nice foot massage.

I feel my eyes droop a little. I’m gonna fall asleep here with my feet in his lap.

His hand starts moving up my leg. His strong, warm hand. It’s moving with purpose up and down my calf.