Jock Royal (Jock Hard 4)

I put a hand on his arm to stop him from walking away. “Stop it, you do not.”

I need more details.

He shrugs. “It’s a big house and there’s no doorbell.”

“You have a butler because your house has no doorbell.”

As if there’s any good response to that statement.

We’re in the entryway, and unlike last time, I take the time to survey my surroundings shamelessly—after all, that is why I’m here.

It’s cute.

Tile floor and a staircase leading to a second-level landing, one overlooking the space.

Newer beige carpet goes to the second level, and all the other flooring looks to be hardwood. Dining room to the right—which I’ve already seen—formal living room on the left, which he seems to be using as an office. A desk sits centered there, faced away from the wall opposite the large picture window, an old-school desktop computer (complete with a tower) in the center of it all.

Outdated gold chandelier dangling above.

“Mr. Fancy-Pants,” I tease.

“Just a Mr. Fancy-Pants looking for his Mrs. Fancy-Pants,” he jokes back, though the smile is wiped from his face as he realizes it sounds like he’s looking for a wife. “Uh.”

I laugh nervously, letting him off the hook. “I know what you meant.”

This is awkward for me, too.

“So that’s the dining room.” He points. “This is the living room but my office? Kitchen through there, but let me show you the den.”

Den.

Who says den anymore?

Through the office we go, under an arched doorway to an area off the kitchen I didn’t see when I was here having dinner before. It’s a sunken room with double pocket doors and dark green painted walls. My eye catches the massive television hanging above the brick fireplace.

Brown sectional sofa.

Wooden coffee table.

Lots of comfortable-looking pillows.

The whole room just screams Stay a while and cuddle! and an ache forms in my stomach as I imagine cold nights relaxing in this room after a hard day on the track field.

Maybe in front of a burning fire.

I clear my throat. “Cute.”

Ashley snorts. “It’s not cute, it’s manly.”

“Sure it is.”

He flips the light off and doubles back toward the entry to the stairs.

“I’ll show you the room I have available.”

That makes me laugh. “Spoken like a true landlord.”

He doesn’t glance back at me, just continues climbing the steps to the landing—but I do catch a low chuckle. He can’t hide that, but he can try.

The room he shows me is bigger than I was expecting it to be—much larger than my entire dorm room and—

“Here’s the bathroom.”

SAY WHAT NOW?!

What?

“It has a bathroom?”

“There’s no tub, just a shower, but—”

Who even cares!

I practically shove him out of my way, beelining for this glorious private bathroom, not unlike the one I have at home at my parents’ house.

Glass-enclosed shower stall.

Single sink with a decent-sized counter for all my makeup and crap. Lower cabinets for storage.

Toilet.

It’s basically the Taj Mahal of student living—not many people can lay claim to a private bathroom.

The rest of the bedroom is furnished, which is another delightful surprise and means I wouldn’t have to hunt down furniture, thus saving time, money, and effort.

Whoa—you’re getting ahead of yourself, Georgia. Slow your roll.

Sorry not sorry, the bathroom is seducing me.

My own sink?

My own shower?

“What other treasures are you hiding from me in this house?” I giggle, walking back into the bedroom from the bath.

“Closet?”

Ooh, I hadn’t thought to look in the closet!

There’s another door in the room and I go to it, yanking it open unceremoniously.

Angels sing the hallelujah chorus.

Flowers begin blooming outside, the sky opens up, and did I mention angels singing?

“How is the closet this big?” I twirl inside, arms stretched wide. It’s so much larger than what I need! I barely have enough to fill half of it!

I’m tempted to do a cartwheel.

“You look like you’re about to have an orgasm,” Ashley says behind me, filling the doorway with his huge body.

I whack him in the arm without thinking twice.

“Could you not?”

Ugh. Honestly.

“You don’t bring up sex to your potential new roommate. It’s tacky.”

“I wasn’t bringing up sex. You do know you can have an orgasm without shagging someone, don’t you?”

He’s mocking me, and I blush at the casual reference to masturbating.

Speaking of which…

How thin are these walls?

“Yes I know you can have an orgasm without…shagging someone. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.” And I’m not a virgin, although I might as well be.

I just used the word shagging instead of bang, which is so British-sounding of me.

I wonder if I’ll start using British words in everyday life when I move in with him, or start speaking with an accent like Madonna did when she lived in London.

If I move in with him.

If.

Ashley seems pleased that I’m happy with the bathroom, closet, and bedroom, chest puffed slightly, cocky grin stretched across his mouth.

“I don’t think there’s anything else to show you.” He pauses. “Oh. Yeah, there is. Follow me.”