The Roommate Equation Page 4

  He ignores my question, so I swipe the bottle from his hand. Dylan reaches for it, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. He tugs. Hard enough that I lose my balance, and I fall on top of him. With an irritated grunt, he rolls me over and onto my back, but he remains on his side, looking down at me.

  He studies me like a line of code.

  Like I’m an equation he needs to solve.

  “I don’t need much sleep,” he says after a while.

  I squeeze my fingers around the bottle and drink, all too aware that it tastes like vodka and Dylan. It’s like kissing his lips all over again but without the pleasure of the release. Dylan steals the bottle from my hand. His immediate contact sends a shiver down my arm, creating goosebumps along my flesh.

  We always had chemistry, so it’s no surprise that being this close to him stirs up feelings from the past.

  “You should go to bed,” I say.

  He laughs and then breathes vodka in my face. “Are you going to tuck me in and give me a goodnight kiss?”

  I laugh at his suggestion. “You wish. Not even in your dreams.”

  Dylan digs a hole in the sand and rests the bottle inside it. His fingers touch mine. I lift my head, and our eyes meet.

  “You never drink this much.”

  Dylan rolls his shoulder. “I don’t normally have you sleeping down the hall from me.”

  “You’re drinking because of me?”

  “No. I’ve had a long week. And this surprise is a bit unexpected. I hate change.”

  “I’m well aware,” I spit back. “You made that crystal clear a long time ago.”

  He moves closer, and the heat from his body makes me crave more of his closeness. I’m all too aware of how my body responds to him.

  “Sorry doesn’t mean much without action.”

  “You’re right. Sorry means nothing. You fucked me over when I came to you for help. You put school and your selfishness before my safety. I needed you, Dylan, and you turned your back on me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he groans. “I still think about what I did, what I said, how I treated you. I was under a lot of pressure with school and Date Crashers.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I shoot back. “The problem managed to go away on its own. You lucked out.”

  He laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh. “I lost you, Ash. That wasn’t luck. It was fucking painful.”

  “It’s not like this would have worked out between us, anyway. You never had the balls to tell my brother about us.”

  “I almost told him once,” he confesses, laying back in the sand to look up at the stars. “I was drunk. You left campus in tears, and I felt like the biggest piece of shit on earth.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  He snickers. “I’m not a bad guy. I made the wrong decision. It happens. You’re not perfect. You do a lot of stupid shit that pisses your brother off.”

  “I wouldn’t have shut you out. I would have supported your decision.”

  “Does it matter now?” Dylan taps his fingers on my arm. “Nothing can change the past.”

  “I hate you.”

  He shakes his head. “No, you don’t. You wouldn’t still be here if you did.”

  A long silence passes between us.

  “I want to know something,” Dylan says, his lips inches from mine, his breath warming my skin.

  “What?”

  “If you still taste like cherries.”

  I stare at him, unblinking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. When did I ever taste like cherries?”

  Dylan nestles his face against my neck, his lips grazing my skin. His kisses send chills down my spine.

  He’s too drunk to realize he’s kissing me.

  “You used to wear this lip gloss that tasted like cherries. Fuck, I loved that smell. The way it tasted. On your lips.”

  Why is he saying this? Tomorrow, he will wake up and forget everything he said. And if he does remember by some miracle, he will regret every word.

  “I wore it earlier. It’s called Cherry Blossom.”

  Dylan runs his fingers down my forearm, causing the tiny hairs to stand at attention. Everywhere our skin meets leaves a trail of fire in its wake. Even in his drunken state, he must know what he’s doing. Right? Dylan has to be somewhat conscious of this simple gesture.

  “I want to taste you.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  He sighs and leans back on his elbow, still rubbing his fingers along my skin. Dylan clutches my waist and pulls me to his chest. I attempt to break free from his grasp, but my desire to fight him only causes him to tug harder at my tank top. He shifts his weight so that half of my body is now on top of his.

  “What are you doing, Dylan?”

  With my head next to his, our mouths only inches apart, his glassy blue eyes meet mine. I wish I could find the courage to pull away from him. He makes me weak. He makes me want to do stupid things. Being this close, I want to kiss Dylan and find comfort in him even if it’s only for one kiss. His kisses meant everything once upon a time.

  He meant everything to me.

  Dylan raises his hand to my cheek. “You’re beautiful, Ash.”

  I don’t respond to his compliment.

  He hooks his arm around me and lowers my head to his muscular chest. I listen to his heart pounding, each beat timed in harmony with mine.

  My eyelids flutter. I press my palm to Dylan’s chest, and he cocoons me in his warmth. The stress of my new living situation, combined with the fact it’s now the middle of the night, coaxes my eyes shut. We’re both too tired and intoxicated to make clear decisions.

  I need to move.

  Get away from Dylan.

  Sleep in my new bed.

  But I don’t.

  Chapter Seven

  Dylan

  The sun warms my cheek as waves break in the distance. Ash buries her face in my shirt, curled up next to me on the sand.

  This is a nice dream…

  I slide my hand up her stomach, dipping beneath her tank top to cup her breast. Gathering her hair in my hands, I leave a trail of kisses from her neck to her shoulder. She backs her ass into my groin, a soft purr escaping her lips, and I groan in response.

  “Dylan,” Ash mutters under her breath.

  Her voice snaps me out of my dream, and when my eyes open, I have to blink a few times to adjust to the sun in my face.

  Shit, this is real.

  Panicked, I sit up and use my forearm as a shield from the sunlight, staring down at her in disbelief.

  What the fuck did I do?

  Ash moaned my name a few seconds ago.

  I thought I was dreaming.

  I have sand in my hair, on my clothes, matted into my leg hair. Sweat beads off my forehead and the full effects of the alcohol I consumed last night are fully kicking my ass.

  How did we end up here… together?

  If Sloan were to see us, he would murder me. Everything we have worked for will go out the window. I have too much of a hangover to explain why I accidentally fondled Ash. In my defense, I thought it was a dream. Because touching Ash like that was something I thought I would only do again in my dreams.

  She’s wearing a red tank top without a bra, this one with a white tulip design, her favorite flower. A pair of black shorts curve to the contours of her delicious body. Her ass is pressed against me, digging into the head of my cock, making it a lot harder to ignore how much I want her.

  “Ash.” I grip her shoulder and give it a good shake. “Ash, c’mon. It’s time to wake up.”

  Judging by the sun's position, we’re already an hour behind my usual schedule, if not more. Sloan is probably having a stroke, assuming the worst. This doesn’t look good for either of us. How do I explain why we slept on the beach together without getting into a fight with Sloan? Most of the time, Ash and I act like we hate each other. Sloan might believe we both got drunk and fell asleep. At least I hope he does.

  Ash’s eyes flutter, and her hand
slides between her thighs. She lets out a soft moan that makes my cock harder. Does she think she’s still dreaming? I suck in a deep breath and watch as Ash rolls her head back against my chest, her hand moving lower.

  “Dylan,” she cries out.

  She’s dreaming of me.

  I didn’t imagine it.

  Years ago, I watched her do the same thing and couldn’t control myself. I was like a wild animal that needed to be tamed. Because when it came to Ash, I was ravenous, hungry, and desperate for more. One taste wasn’t enough. I knew it from the second her cherry gloss touched my lips.

  “Ash,” I say against her earlobe, and she shivers. “Wake up. We’re late for work.”

  This time, her eyes open, and she shoots up from my chest like she’s on fire. Panting and out of breath, Ash turns her head both ways, looking at me, the ocean, and then at me again. Horror scrolls across her beautiful face. Then, she glances down at her arm and pinches the skin between her fingers.

  “It felt so real,” she says under her breath, almost sad. “Like before.”

  When we were together.

  Ash hugs her knees to her chest as she shoots daggers in my direction. Her blue eyes are so beautiful even though they’re slightly glassy from sleep. Ash holds my gaze for a few seconds before she blows out a puff of air that hits my cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to touch you. Please don’t say anything to Sloan.”

  Ash gets so close our mouths are several inches apart. A smirk turns up the corner of her mouth. “Don’t say what?”

  At least she’s game with pretending this never happened. She never told Sloan about our secret relationship. After our first night together, Ash applied to Boston College, so she would be a short drive from Cambridge, where I attended MIT. We saw each for over a year in secret. That’s why I didn’t date anyone while I was in college. To this day, Sloan still thinks I hooked up with the girl from Zeta Beta when she was only a cover.

  The entire time I was with Ash, Sloan thought she was in Boston enjoying the college life. Every weekend, when I could sneak away from Sloan, I saw Ash. I hated living a double life. Back then, Sloan lived in our fraternity chapter house, and I moved into a hacker hostel with my coder friends. But Ash was the reason for the sudden move.

  Ash glances down at her nipples, poking through the thin fabric of her tank, and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. I push myself up from the ground and extend my hand to Ash. She takes it without complaint.

  “What’s our story?” Ash sighs. “Sloan is probably going insane right now.”

  “We tell him the truth, but leave out the part about us touching.”

  She nods. “Let me do the talking. If he hears it from me, he’ll be less hostile.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, if you say so.”

  “Sloan wouldn’t believe we were together anyway. Not with how much we bicker.”

  Without another word, we make our way toward the house. I shouldn’t stare at her ass as she walks in front of me, but it’s hard not to look when Ash has an ass that’s made for my hands. I stop in front of the doors that lead to my bedroom, and Ash hesitates.

  “I’ll meet you in the hallway. We don’t want it to look like I crawled out of your bed.”

  “I’m sure Sloan’s already torn the place apart looking for you. He should know by now that you’re not in your room.”

  “Yeah, I guess it doesn’t matter then.”

  I open the door and tip my head for Ash to enter my bedroom. It feels weird having her in here. This is my coder domain, my oasis. I never bring women into this room because it feels too personal.

  We find Sloan in the living room, pacing back and forth with a cup of coffee in his hand. I clear my throat, and his eyes meet mine.

  He slams the mug onto the living room table and rushes over to us. “What the fuck were you doing with my sister? I looked everywhere. We were supposed to leave for the office over an hour ago.” He tugs at the ends of his hair and groans. “Please tell me you didn’t…” More hair pulling and freaking out. “You better have a good reason—”

  Ash steps forward, places her hand on Sloan’s shoulder, and his expression softens.

  “We fell asleep on the beach. I wanted to feel the sand after my shower last night. Dylan was already out there drinking. We shared a bottle of vodka. We were both drunk and fell asleep. It’s not a big deal.”

  Sloan looks somewhat relieved. “I was so worried. I thought something happened to you.”

  Ash holds up her hands and smiles. “I’m fine. No damage, apart from a wicked hangover.”

  “Get ready,” Sloan growls. “And do it fast. If we don’t leave in the next ten minutes, we’ll never get through traffic, and you’ll be late for work.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ash

  My heart hasn’t stopped racing since I woke up on the beach next to Dylan. I thought I was dreaming when I moaned his name and encouraged him to keep going. Because only in my dreams would I ever let Dylan touch me again.

  When I step into the foyer, Dylan’s eyes travel over my breasts that are stretching the hell out of this top. I have to wait until my next paycheck to buy a few shirts that don’t make me look like Porno Barbie. I’d never had an office job before accepting the position at Brenton-Lake, and I wasn’t about to let Sloan buy my clothes.

  Dylan sucks in a deep breath and digs his teeth into his bottom lip, before he brushes his palm across the dark stubble on his jaw. He turns his head as if he can’t stand to look at me for another second. Sloan doesn’t notice, of course, he never does. Thankfully, he lives in his own world most of the time. He’s too obsessed with himself to see the reaction I get from his best friend. That’s what made it so easy for us to sneak around behind his back.

  “About time,” Sloan says as he opens the front door. He ushers me outside, and the two of them follow behind me.

  I stop in front of Dylan’s Maserati GranTurismo. The blue paint is so pretty it sparkles when the sunlight hits it. After Dylan turns on the engine and rolls down the convertible top, he helps me into the backseat, his eyes burning a hole through my shirt as I climb into the sports car.

  Dylan gives me a once over, and then he takes his place behind the wheel. Sloan connects his phone to Bluetooth and takes charge of the music. He flips through his Spotify playlists, and then a rock beat filters through the speakers. Once we’re on the Pacific Coast Highway, I get the urge to throw my hands above my head as the wind blows through my hair.

  On occasion, I catch Dylan looking at me in the mirror. I make eye contact with him, and his eyes fall back to the road. Could he be more obvious?

  Technically, I broke up with Dylan, but I had a good reason. We ended our relationship on horrible terms. I was crushed, disappointed with how he handled the news. I thought he would be more supportive. Instead, he reacted like an asshole and pushed me away.

  An hour later, after sitting through tons of traffic, Dylan double parks in front of my building on Wilshire Boulevard. Dylan slides out of the car, offering his hand to me. I take it, and my fingers tingle from the immediate contact with his skin.

  “We’ll pick you up after work,” Sloan says, resting his elbow on the center console. “If you get done early, call. Okay?”

  I laugh. “Have you met Vinnie Sax? That man doesn’t know the meaning of an early day.”

  Sloan reaches into his pocket, plucks a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet, and waves it. “Take this. You didn’t eat dinner last night. You must be starving by now.”

  “Sloan,” I groan.

  I turn away from my brother, and Dylan clutches my shoulder. “Take it,” he whispers. “Otherwise, he won’t leave you alone.”

  Knowing Dylan is right, I angle my body to face Sloan and grab the money and stuff it into my purse with an appreciative smile. “Thanks, but you don’t need to do this.”

  “Have a good day at work,” he says. “Call if you need anything.”

  We grew
up with loving parents who are still happily married, but they didn’t have much money. I’m not used to luxury, and I don’t need it. But now that Sloan is wealthy, it’s as if he feels guilty for having so much more than me.

  Money or not, he’s still my big brother. I don’t look at him any differently than I did before his app took off. He would do anything for me, and I love that about him. But I hate when he makes me feel like a charity case.

  Dylan knows better than anyone how much I value my independence. He would never force his money on me, nor would he offer it. When we were together, he let me make my own decisions.

  After I say goodbye to the boys, I head into the office. I wave to a few people who work in the building and step into the elevator that Willow Duvall is holding open for me. She’s my only real friend in this city and a junior agent at my firm.

  “Hey, girl,” Willow coos. “You look like you had a rough night.”

  “You have no idea.”

  She punches the button on the wall, and the doors close. “Out late with a guy?”

  “You could say that,” I deadpan. “I got kicked out of my apartment, and now I’m living with my brother.”

  Her eyes widen. “Wow, that’s crazy. So, you’re living in Malibu now? With Sloan.”

  She licks her lips at the thought of my brother. Most women do. It’s gross but whatever.

  “I got drunk and fell asleep on the beach with Dylan.”

  Her smile widens. “Your ex is hot in a sexy nerd kinda way. Like a young Tony Stark but not yet a billionaire.”

  “Knowing Dylan, he will be one someday.”

  Dylan is brilliant, the smartest person I know. I wasn’t the least bit surprised that his app made him loads of money and even less shocked when it became the hottest anti-dating app in the country.

  When the elevator doors open, Willow mumbles, “This can’t be good.”

  Her brown irises bug out when she looks at the reception desk that’s buzzing with excitement. The phones are ringing, one after another, as the secretary pool scrambles to answer calls. One of the receptionists is running down the hallway that leads to Vinnie Sax’s office.