The Roommate's Secret Crush

Book 2: West Coast Soulmates

by Carla Krae

Genres: Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance; Romantic Comedy; friends to lovers; romantic comedy; roommates; best friends brother

Synopsis

WCS #1.5

Rosalind and I have had a BFF Chip since 7th grade—the ultimate best friend favor. At age 25, Ros calls in her chip.

Her little brother lands in an hour.

And he needs a place to crash.

For more than one night.

No problem, right?

I pick Patrick up at LAX, expecting the same slight and nerdy boy I last saw in high school. He's still a nerd—new IT job—but all grown up and more gorgeous than any best friend's little brother has a right to be.

When he walks around my apartment in only a towel, it’s difficult to keep seeing him as only a friend.

Ros completely bails on us, so I propose pooling our money into a two-bedroom and officially becoming roommates. He’s polite, sweet, clean, and cooks.

What could go wrong?

I could fall in love with him. 

This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations.

 

Release date: April 19, 2016

Publisher: Willowick Publishing

Print pages: 120

Sample

 

Patrick drove home.  First time my car had been driven by someone other than me or my mechanic.  He was a careful driver, no surprise, obeying every sign and traffic law. 

Then he helped me upstairs.  “You should drink some water before going to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Bleh.”

“If you’d prefer a hangover…”

“Fine. Let me change.”  Carrying my shoes, I shuffled into my room.  Came back out in the slip I wore under the dress.  His eyes widened.  “What? I’m still decent. Gimme.”  He handed me a bottled water.  “G’night.”  Back to the bedroom and shut the door.

Everything else on my body got left on the floor of my closet.  Pulled on a nightgown, drank half the water, and brushed my teeth in the dark.  The mint made my stomach churn and I raced for the toilet.  Oh god…

Hands pulled my hair out of the way.  Patrick.  One hand rubbed soothing circles on my back.  “Better?”

I wiped my mouth with toilet paper, then flushed the mess.  Sat on the rug. 

He retrieved the water.  “Rinse your mouth and spit a few times.”

“Yeah. In a bit.”  I didn’t think I could stand and hold it together, yet.

Only then did I notice that he’d come in here with his shirt open.  The jacket and tie were gone.  He dampened a wash cloth and applied it to my forehead.

“Sorry,” I said.

“For what?”

“Making you take care of me.”

“You’ve never made me, Jess.”  Touched the cool cloth to my cheeks.

“I like you being here, Patrick.”

“Think you can move?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”  He sat next to me, leaning on the shower stall, and I leaned on him.  His arm went around my shoulders.

My one excuse to snuggle him.  He smelled amazing.  Cologne?  Soap?  My arm was hugging him under his shirt.  I couldn’t help stroking my thumb on his soft skin. 

He touched the back of his hand to my cheek.  “You don’t feel so flushed now.”  And pulled away.  “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

“Okay.”  What else could I say?

Once we reached my bed, he turned down the covers.  I hugged him.  “Thanks…for…”  His heat seared my breasts through the thin cotton nightgown.  I didn’t want to let go.

“I know. In you go.”  He tucked me in, then put water and painkillers on my nightstand.  “For the morning.”

I nodded.  He turned off the lamp.  “Patrick?”

He paused at my door.  “Yes?”

“Ros wanted me to take care of you, too.”

He nodded and shut my door.

My dreams were a mix of nightmares and erotica.  Never drinking that much champagne again. 

Fumbled blindly for the pills and drank them down.  At least my stomach wasn’t threatening to revolt again.  I shuffled into the bathroom to pee. 

Oh God, the light.

Water was running on the other side of the shower wall.  A quiet moan.  My eyes widened.  Was he…?  Unable to resist, I put my ear to the tile. 

Oh my God.

Was he thinking of someone or just getting rid of morning wood?

A final louder groan, then nothing but the water running for another five minutes as he bathed. 

I’d heard Patrick climax.  The fogginess of my hangover was long gone.

I stepped away from the wall and my nipples puckered at the brush of cotton.  The nightgown went over my head.  My roommate wouldn’t be the only one with an orgasm in the shower this morning.