Bad Girl (Alphahole Roommates 3)

I wake up sweating and crying out his name.

My hand flies to my mouth in horror when I jackknife up in bed.

I’m praying Jude didn’t hear that.

***

Wednesday

I come home to an empty apartment again and a brief hopeful moment that he’s gone. Nope. His shaving bag is in my bathroom.

I growl and then make a mess again. A big one. Though, really, this seems just pointless.

He text messages me at eight thirty at night.

Jude: Have you eaten dinner? I’m grabbing pizza.

I don’t answer the text.

He comes in at just after nine o’clock with a large pizza, two smaller pizza boxes, and a smile on his sexy, bearded jerk face.

“What ‘cha doin’?” He sets the stack of pizza boxes down on the breakfast bar and comes over to me.

I’m sitting on the floor, making glitter crafts on the coffee table. Bedroom door signs for Sonia’s girls.

I’ve drawn their names in glue on framed boards and then covered the glue with glitter. I’ve made a blue and gold one for six-year-old Sadie and a pink and silver one for seven-year-old Caylee. I’m about to draw glue flowers on the side of Sadie’s and a glue unicorn on the side of Caylee’s.

“Making door signs. See?” I blow across Sadie’s board, sending a glitter cloud toward Jude. “Sadie,” I announce.

He steps back.

And there’s glitter everywhere, including on him.

“Ooh pizza.” I jump up and head that way in order to hide my glee. “Don’t mind if I do.”

A minute later, I’ve got a face filled with pepperoni and cheese. Lots of cheese. Just like I like it.

“How was your day, Vixen? Looks like you’ve been busy around here,” he muses, cracking open a vodka cooler and setting it in front of me before opening a beer for himself.

He then folds his arms over his chest. Gah, why does he have to have so many muscles?

I manage to drag my eyes away.

Not only is the living room filled with all the junk that was here yesterday, now the table is also covered in craft supplies and the room is littered in sparkles. The last time I did glittery crafts during a sleepover with Sadie and Caylee, despite constant cleaning, I kept finding sparkles for a month. This is going to be worse because I haven’t even tried to be careful.

“Three pizzas for just us?” I ask.

And immediately, I want to snatch back that dirty word. Us. Because it makes my belly feel funny.

“The second box is wings and garlic bread,” he gestures. “The third… cinnamon sugar pizza dough knots.”

I gasp, drop my slice of pizza on the counter and immediately dig into the third box.

“So, how was your day?” I ask, before shoving an entire sugary cinnamon knot into my mouth.

“Productive,” he replies. “You have a good one? You seem agreeable tonight.”

I nod while chewing and then quickly swallow the cinnamoned sugary goodness and wash it down with a sip of cherry vodka cooler.

“A) Glitter crafts always boost my mood. B) I’m thinking we should call a truce. You’re good friends with Aiden. Carly is my bestie. If you’ve gotta stay here a bit longer doing renovations, it’s cool. Just… let’s be friends, okay? Just friends who hooked up once. It doesn’t have to keep being weird.” I hold my hand out for him to shake it. “Buds?”

He studies me for a beat and I’m feeling relief flood through me when he’s suddenly got my hand and is using it not to shake, but instead to pull me forward.

And then his hand is in my hair and his mouth is on mine.

I gasp while melting into a seriously hot kiss. His lips take charge, his tongue dips in, he’s got my hair in his fist, and I’m tingling everywhere.

Not of my own volition, I find my hand gliding all the way up his chest until it hooks his neck. I’ve got hot skin in my hand and strong lips with a skilled tongue ravishing my mouth for a good minute before my back is pressed against the wall with my body molding to his. It’s got to be another minute before my senses return to me and I’m thinking… wait, no. I try to pull back but there’s nowhere to go since I’m pinned, so I shove.

He doesn’t budge from where he stands but our lips disconnect.

“Not those kinds of friends,” I say breathlessly.

He’s smiling. There’s a devious glittering in his eyes, not the crafty glitter – that’s in his incredibly sexy facial hair.

“I don’t wanna be your friend,” he says with an expression I can only describe as dangerous. And sexy as fuck. “You know what I do want?”

“I don’t and I don’t want to.” I try to slide away, but his hand lands on my hip and there’s nowhere to go unless he moves.

“Let go.”