The Roommate (Roommates, #1)

Daniel was a dud.

Okay, that wasn’t totally fair. Dinner was good and the conversation was fine, but Daniel and I simply didn’t have any chemistry. It was like talking to my cousin or a coworker. There was no spark, no electricity buzzing between us-not like my conversations with Cannon.

I removed my napkin from my lap, wiped my mouth one last time, and set it on the table beside me.

“Are you finished?” Daniel asked.

I nodded and signaled the server to bring our check. I’d been discreetly checking my phone under the table. The more wine I drank at dinner, the better idea it seemed to try to get home in time to see Cannon. And if we left now, I had twenty-three minutes before he left for his night shift at the hospital.

Daniel nabbed the check as soon as the server dropped it off. “I’ve got this. Thank you for joining me for dinner.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind splitting it,” I offered.

He nodded. “It’s my pleasure.”

I smiled at him. He really was a nice guy.

While he settled the bill, I used the restroom, checking my appearance in the mirror. Satisfied that my hair and makeup were still in place and I didn’t have any food stuck in my teeth, I met Daniel at the front of the restaurant.

He drove me home, talking to me yet again about his work as a financial analyst.

I held back a yawn. Surely two people could find more to talk about than spreadsheets and investments. But I didn’t care enough to try, so I nodded along.

“Thank you for tonight,” I said when he stopped at the curb in front of my house.

He put his car into park and hopped out, coming around to open my door. He was a little old-fashioned, insisting on picking me up, paying for dinner, and opening doors. But I kind of liked that in a man.

“I’ll walk you up to your door,” he suggested.

I nodded, following him up the stairs to my small porch, and plastered a polite smile onto my lips while he finished his story about last quarter’s earnings statements.

Come on! Cannon’s car was still parked out front, which meant he was still inside.

But then Daniel leaned in, his garlic breath fanning over my cheek, and I did the only thing I could think of. I brought my knee up swiftly, connecting with the spot between Daniel’s legs.

“Oompf!” He doubled over, his forehead crashing into my nose.

“Ow.” My nose stung where I’d been struck.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Daniel barked.

I had no answer. Panicked, I guessed. When I pinched the bridge of my nose, my hand came away red. Shit. My nose was bleeding and Daniel was still bent in half, clutching his crotch.

“I . . . I’m so sorry,” I stammered.

The door flew open and Cannon’s gaze raked over me, then Daniel, and back to me. Specifically, the blood running from my nose. His eyes turned murderous as he set his sights back on Daniel.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” he growled, stalking closer.

Grabbing Cannon’s firm bicep, I stepped between them. “It was just a misunderstanding. He didn’t hit me. We bumped heads.”

Cannon didn’t stop glaring daggers at Daniel.

I found it hard to blame Cannon for disbelieving an unbelievable situation. Who the hell fails so hard at kissing they come away with a bloody nose? God, I was a hot mess.

“Come on, Paige. Let’s go inside.” Cannon offered me his hand and I took it, letting him draw me away from the man on my porch.

“You can have her, buddy. Good fucking luck!” Daniel called, already stomping down the steps and back toward his car.

Once inside, Cannon turned on the light in the foyer, tilting my chin and inspecting me carefully.

“Christ,” he swore under his breath. I could see the tick in his jaw as he bit down, his gaze still tracing my form. “Does this hurt?” He pressed a spot on my forehead.

I shook my head, dislodging his hand. “No, really, I’m fine. It’s just a little bloody nose.”

“Come sit down.” Taking my hand, he led me into the living room and stood over me while I lowered myself onto the couch.

“Don’t you have to get to work?” I asked.

He was dressed in his scrubs, baby blue this time, and damn, the man even made drawstring pants look sexy. The cotton shirt had the slightest V-neck-just a notch, really-but the smooth, tanned skin and hollow of his throat visible in that notch was everything. That tiny peek, that tease of bare skin, was a million times sexier than all of Daniel’s bland flirting combined. I wanted to lick it, suck on it, sniff it . . .

Holy shit, Paige, calm down. I hadn’t felt so out of control since I was a teenager. I seriously needed to get a grip-and no, not on Cannon’s dick. But my hormones held me hostage. I couldn’t help but watch his butt flex as he retreated to the bathroom.

Seconds later, he returned with a box of tissues, withdrew several, and handed them to me. “Yes, but first I need to be sure you’re okay. I’m not leaving for the night when you could have a concussion.”

I snorted, holding a wad of tissue against my nose. “I don’t have a concussion. It was nothing. Clumsiness combined with wine and a dash of self-preservation.”

He sat down beside me, stroking my cheek softly. “Are you telling me the truth? You just bumped heads? He didn’t . . . ?”

I tried to nod and shake my head at the same time. “He tried to kiss me and I panicked.”

“Why did you panic?” Cannon’s gaze was hard and locked on mine.

His attention felt amazing, the rough pads of his fingertips, the worry in his eyes. I wanted to stay in this moment forever. My heart thumped steadily under his concerned gaze. If this was what it was like to be a patient of Dr. Cannon Roth, sign me the fuck up.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

I swallowed. “I didn’t want to kiss him. I only went out on that stupid date because . . .”

“Because why?” His posture was tense, but his words were soft.

Because he wasn’t you. Because I’m more hung up on you than I have any right to be.

I swallowed. “Because we never got to finish what we started.”

“We didn’t get to fuck, so you moved on and now you’re dating.”

His direct eye contact was too much, and I found my gaze drifting to the floor between my feet. God, when he said it like that, I sounded like an asshole.

“We dodged a bullet, right?” I meant it to sound calm and certain, but my voice came out shakier than I intended. Clearing my throat, I started again. “We got interrupted. We never even officially had sex, and now we can both move on. It would have been a huge mistake, and besides, according to you, I would have fallen hopelessly in love with you and it would have ended terribly.”

“If you’re too much of a pussy to finish what we started, fine by me, but don’t equate us getting interrupted to dodging a bullet. It would have been fun, and you know it.”

My cheeks heated. Oh, did I ever. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him once. The way he’d felt with his muscular frame atop mine, the restrained power in his hips when he pressed forward the slightest bit, the way he hissed when he felt how tight I was . . . I shivered just thinking of it.

“Is this what you really want? To date some schmuck you met online?” Cannon asked.

“Yes. It’s what I really want.” It was a lie. A total fucking lie that felt bitter on my tongue.

As much as I craved the perks that came with a relationship-affection, intimacy, support, sex-I was even more terrified about giving my heart to anyone. What if they turned out to be like James, and I ended up destroyed in the end?

But I wouldn’t say that to Cannon. He had been a fun fling, a distraction, but he couldn’t be anything more. He had grand plans he needed to focus on, and Allie would never stand for it. Besides, I was about ninety-nine percent sure that Cannon was not at all interested in a steady girlfriend.

His hand fell away from my cheek, and his full lips parted as he appraised me. “I can’t have you going out with a man who doesn’t know how to properly kiss a woman without it ending in a bloody nose.”

I should have said something snappy like, You don’t get to decide who I date. But what came out was, “That’s true.”

The blush on my cheeks spread. Not only did I feel like an idiot, but now Cannon knew just how much I was lusting after him-if he hadn’t known already. For a grown damned woman, I felt totally childish and immature.

“I’m going to be late to work. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

I nodded and watched him rise to his feet, my heart still galloping. Figure this out? Like his massive dick and my overly tight you-know-what coming together was some math equation.

He bent down and brushed one hand along my cheek. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” As soon as this shame and self-pity wears off.

With one last worried glance cast in my direction, Cannon nodded and headed for the door. “Call me if you need anything, and don’t forget to lock up.”

Placing my head in my hands, I let out a long sigh. I’d ruined the only date I’d had in over a year and rushed home for nothing. I still didn’t know where I stood with Cannon, and now I wasn’t going to find out.

Adulthood was just as shitty as everyone said. Except not if you were Cannon Roth. He still had that bright and shiny hope radiating from his emerald eyes. Belief that something great was out there on the horizon waiting for him-and maybe it was.

I wanted to bask in that feeling, to linger in his presence in the hope that some of his optimism and passion wore off on me. Because right now? My life was a total shit show.