The Roommate Risk (The Midnight Heat Collection, #3)

by Talia Hibbert

Jasmine. Yes, he decided. It suited her. But Allen? He wasn’t sure. Jasmine Khan would sound much better. Not because Khan was his last name. He was just spitballing.

Those were all the categories she had. He’d exhausted her options. But sometimes she thought that, if he asked, she’d build a whole new one, just for him.

She captivated him at completely inappropriate moments, for no reason he could discern—not necessarily when she was prettiest. Just when she was completely herself.

She was like a river, forging its path through earth and stone; so soft, so fluid and seemingly gentle, but powerful enough to mould the world to her will.

God, he loved her. He loved her. He didn’t want to. He shouldn’t. It was useless. It was true.

He thought, Kiss me. Fucking kiss me. Give me something, give me a reason, give me permission, and I’ll give you everything I have.

In the silence and the shadows, the brush of their lips felt like something holy. Like prayers whispered into the earth, like purifying flames. This was the closest he might ever be to perfection.

She kissed him as if she were starving. He’d die just to let her consume him.

“Asking,” he whispered, “is hard. Taking is easy. Doing is easy. But asking for what you want… asking is showing someone everything, and trusting they won’t use it against you. Asking is about feeling safe.”

Yes. That was what he wanted; for her to understand the need, to feel it the way he did. He wanted her hungry.

Sometimes, thinking badly about herself required her to think badly of other people, too. To imagine cruelties and ulterior motives and falseness behind every smile.

Her thighs were soft and rippled with stretch marks, like waves across an ocean’s surface. He was more than ready to drown.

“Hold on to me.” Do I ever do anything but?

Sometimes Rahul made her feel like perfect wasn’t just a performance. Like someone could be seen as something special without constantly trying, as long as the right person was doing the seeing.

He kissed her then. Kissed her mouth. The world around them sank into nothingness, her senses dulled as if she’d been submerged in an ocean, with no way to tell where the surface was. So she floated, directionless, and enjoyed it. She’d read somewhere that drowning was euphoria. It was true.

“I tried to stop. I really, really did. But I couldn’t. So if you ever doubt me, just remember, even when I did my absolute best not to love you, I couldn’t manage it. It certainly isn’t going to happen by accident.”

Hers was the most perfect imperfection he had ever known.

“Jasmine,” he whispered. “Rahul. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“If I thought like that, I’d be an entitled prick. Love doesn’t need anything in return.” He paused. “But, to be clear, I am very much enjoying getting something in return.”