The Roommate Game (Smithton Bears #3)

by Lane Hayes

“Want some?” I held out the container, positive I could win him over with a friendly smile. Wrong. “No, I don’t want to share germs with you, but thank you for asking,” he replied, a thunderous expression on his pinched face. “What I would appreciate is for you to replace my orange juice and maybe add a sticker to remind yourself not to touch it next time.” “Oh, shit. This is yours?” “It was,” he corrected. “I’m sorry, man. I’ll make it up to you. Let me buy you breakfast.” “No, thanks. I have class.” Now, that could have been taken one of two ways: A, I have class and would never drink out of a carton in my boxer briefs and a holey T-shirt while smelling like the south end of a northbound mule. Or B, I have a Biology lecture to attend. Yeah, I was getting A vibes, too.

Rita checked the fit at his waist, hiking Rafe’s top and exposing his lean, toned abdomen. His skin was smooth and unblemished, no tattoos, but of course my gaze locked on his happy trail and the prominent jut of his hip bones resulting in some serious V-lines. That right there was my downfall. I was a sucker for the sweet dip of contoured ridges pointing south, a.k.a. cum gutters. I swallowed hard, licking my fingers while giving myself a stern talking-to.

“This is a big night for you. Shouldn’t you be with your friends?” “No, I want to be with you. Thanks for coming tonight,” I said, lazily stroking my cock. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed it. We were sitting next to a—” He cast a quick glance at my crotch. “Oh, my God. I can’t talk to you like this. Put your penis back in your pants.” I snickered. “I can’t get my zipper over this python. Drive faster.” He did.

“I need you,” I rasped. “Rafe…” “Don’t you get it? I love you, too. I love you. You don’t get to tell me you’re not enough for me. You don’t!” “You…” “I love you,” I repeated. “I want us. I want you. And I want to come home to you. I don’t care if the house is a mess and my orange juice is long gone.” Oh, no. I was a blubbering mess. I wiped my nose on my forearm and continued. “You make me happy and crazy and you bring so much joy and⁠—” “So do you. Shh. Don’t cry.” He caught a tear with his thumb and cupped my chin. “I’m right here.” “I know. I just…need you to know that my heart is yours. That’s corny, but it’s true. I choose you, Gus. Choose me back. Please.” “Yes.” Gus dropped his hockey stick on the ice and wrapped me in his arms, murmuring, “I love you, love you, love you.”