Good Girl (Alphahole Roommates 2)

As soon as the phone stops ringing, it immediately starts again. My mother. I snicker. I haven’t talked to her. She’s probably calling to ream me out because I had her boyfriend’s daughter arrested. Aiden was probably calling to warn me she was about to call.

She can stew a little longer; I’ve got enchiladas to eat.

I pop mine in the microwave and dish some up for Jada, who’s coming into the kitchen. Her hair is now down, tucked behind a headband, which makes me want to pound my chest like a primate because I messed her hair up so much that she’s now taming it with something that makes her look so shy and innocent. It makes me wanna take her to the floor and fuck her. She’s biting her lip while approaching me, wearing nothing but a white shirt of mine, just like in her story. And she’s looking at me in a way that I know my wants are written all over my face.

I grab her and plant a kiss on her mouth. She goes up on her tiptoes and kisses me back, whimpering into my mouth. I fucking like this. I like it a lot.

“Next time you clean that bathroom, you’re gonna need supervision,” I say.

She looks up at me and her eyebrows knit for a split second and then heat stains her cheeks and she laughs and buries her face in my chest.

“No bathtub cleaning during the day.” I bop her nose.

“You get to the window cleaning scene yet?” she asks, face buried into my chest.

“No.”

“Good. I’m deleting it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’m putting a password on my computer. I really should’ve done that a long time ago.”

I give her a serious look. “I’m really glad you didn’t.”

She smiles. “Maybe I am, too. Which is crazy.”

My hand rides up the back of the shirt and I feel something lacy.

I look down and lift the shirt above her navel.

She’s now got on high-cut black lace panties with royal blue ribbon woven through the edge of the legs as well as the waistband.

I smooth my hands over her ass and pull her closer.

“These aren’t good girl panties,” I observe. “These are naughty girl panties.”

She bites her lip and her lashes lower just a little. It’s sexy as fuck.

“After we eat,” I whisper in her ear, “I’m goin’ to the store and buying condoms.”

The microwave beeps so I pull my food out and slide her plate in.

She goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer for me, a root beer for herself.

My phone rings again. Aiden again.

I grab it and turn the ringer down.

“Definitely should delete all that smut on here,” she muses, sliding her laptop to the side as we dig into our food.

“You do that, you’re in big trouble, Cooties. Though I do recommend you password-protect it.” I take a big bite of my beef enchilada. It’s delicious. “But I want the password.” I wink.

“You do know I never expected a soul to read that, don’t you? Only one person in the world even knew I write that stuff.”

“You write a lot of it?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Nope. A couple months ago I got paid to write one from this freelance site I get writing jobs from sometimes. I almost didn’t do it. But it felt safe since I was anonymous and it was fun. And then I got paid to write another. And I decided to write some more, so I did. Then I met you…”

“Yeah? And?”

“And the night we had the argument when I made you the fajitas, I went to bed angry and was going to tell you off in a letter that I would never have sent, but I found myself writing that. Please, you can’t tell anyone I write that stuff.”

Her eyes are so panicked and she looks so mortified that I instantly move to her and pull her close.

“You’re damn good at writing sexy scenes, Jada. Even the stuff around the sex scenes, the inner dialogue from Miss Sweetheart that I read so far; you’ve got talent there. If you decide to become a fiction author, you should own that. Be proud of it whether you write sexy stuff or murder mysteries; who cares what people think? That’s my opinion. Though, if you choose to keep it to yourself, that’s your choice. I just have one request.”

“To change your name if I ever publish it?”

I shake my head and smile at her. “To let me read them, especially if they’re about me.”

She turns away and buries her face in her shoulder. It’s adorable to me and incredibly alluring how she’s being both shy and open with me at the same time.

“If you never write them for money or for public consumption, I still hope you let me read them. And… right now, I have plans to act out every scene you wrote. I think.”