I’ve done pretty damn well in hiding my feelings for her over the years, but having Meghan under the same roof as me, and only feet from my bed makes it hard to control myself.
The truth is when it comes to Meghan I don’t want to practice self-control. I love her.
I’ve known him nearly my whole life. He’s arrogant, gets under my skin, but is gorgeous and caring, too. And as much as I want to say it doesn’t affect me, that Brendan doesn’t affect me I’d be lying.
The truth is I love him, and I don’t know if that’ll end up destroying me.
She needed a place to stay, and now she’s got a roommate … me. But I’m about to show her that I want more than a friendly arrangement.
I’ve never been good at sharing, and when it comes to her, she’s mine.
Warning: You like short, hot, straight to the point stories? Do you want drama-free sexiness that leaves nothing to the imagination? Do you want a story that is pretty unbelievable, but gives you the warm fuzzies at the same time? Well then, leave your panties at the door because that’s what’s going down in this quickie.
She was hurting right now. The thought of not being the one to be there for her, and to pick her up when she was down, made me feel like shit.
I wanted to be the one for her always.
Is that your excuse for checking up on her, for driving to her school to make sure she was okay, that she seemed happy? Is that your excuse for pretty much fucking stalking her?
I wasn’t stalking her, or at least I told myself that. I was making sure she was okay. But fuck, admitting that to her felt so dirty, like I was this damn creep.
I just love her.
Said every fucking weirdo on the planet that watched the girl they loved.
God, I could have laughed at my own inner ramblings.
“Thank you again.”
I shook my head. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
This look of gratitude crossed Meghan’s face, and I knew tonight would most definitely be a drunk kind of one.
“I have a bottle of whiskey with our names on it.”
I cared about her like no other—whether she’d ever known that or would ever know it. Keeping my distance, not telling her how I felt, and pretending like she didn’t mean more than she really did, had been the worst mistake of my life.
But she was here now, and I was going to use this opportunity to show her I’d grown the hell up and could make her happy.
But only with me. I only wanted her to be happy with me. Selfish or not, that was the reality.
That means telling her you scared off that asshole that had been hitting on her six months ago at school. That means you’ll have to come clean about why you were there and why you gave a shit if she dated someone.
I was going to make her mine, no matter what.
Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.