Under One Roof (The STEMinist Novellas, #1)

by Ali Hazelwood

I’m only a humble beginner at this whole pining thing, but I can safely state that living with some guy you used to hate and somehow ended up slipping in love with is not a wise move.

Third, and this is less of a statement and more of a question: Would you mind it if I killed your nephew? Because I am very close to it. Like—sooo close.

Until about ten seconds ago I was angry in a cool, reasonable way. All of a sudden, I am ready to wrestle the knife out of Liam’s hand and slice his jugular. Just a tiny bit. Just to make him bleed. I won’t, because I don’t think I’d flourish in jail, but I’m also not going to let this go.

I step out with a small wave and notice two things: he’s staring hard at his feet, and his left hand is a tight fist at his side.

thought you two . . . ?” “No.” He shakes his head once. Then he shakes it again. “No, Emma is . . . We were in kindergarten together. And she . . . No. We’re friends, good friends, but nothing like that.” “Oh.” Oh? Really? No way. Way? “We’re just friends,” he repeats again. Like he wants to make sure I know it.

he’s looking at me in a way I can’t understand, and I’m suddenly feeling like it’s time to skedaddle.

he calls after me. “Mara?” I pause. Don’t turn around. “Yeah?” “I . . . Have a good night.” It doesn’t sound like what he originally meant to say.

It’s Saturday night, after all. We usually spend our Saturday nights on that very couch, watching TV, talking about everything and nothing.

Liam nods, though he cannot possibly have made sense of what I just mumbled. And then he says nothing. And then things seem to get a bit weird. There is an odd tension in the room. Like we’re both holding back something. I’d rather not search inside myself to figure out what.

The fact remains that I lose my balance and stumble just as I try to walk past him. His hands, large and solid and warm even through my dress, close around my hips until I’m stable again. I’m standing, and he’s sitting down,

I stop myself, but my slow, misfiring brain doesn’t. It feeds me an odd image: Liam smiling and pulling me down in his lap. Pushing between my knees. His hands skimming up my thighs, under my dress, tickling my skin, making me laugh. He reaches my lower back and his grip tightens, long fingers sliding under the elastic of my panties, cupping my ass to press me to . . . Oh. He is hard. Big. Insistent. He arranges me exactly how he wants me and I exhale just as he groans in my ear, “Careful, Mara.”

“Okay. Who am I supposed to kill, and how do I do it?” He smiles at me, and a million little sparks crackle down my spine. “I thought you’d never ask.”

don’t get to finish the sentence. Because he picks me up, Snuggies and all, and lifts me across his lap until my ass is resting on his thighs. Which . .

“I got it! Liam—I got the job!” He doesn’t skip a beat. “The team leader position?” “Yes.” His grin is blinding. Then he tells, “I’ll call you back,” to whoever is on the line, totally ignores the fact that their reply is “Sir, this is a time-sensitive issue—” and tosses the phone on the nearest chair.

Then he hugs me back. He lifts me up like he’s too happy for me to even consider stopping himself, like this phone call I just had that changed my life changed his, too, like he’s been wanting this as much and as intensely as I have. And when he spins me around the room, one single, perfect whirl of pure happiness, that’s when I realize it. How incredibly, utterly gone for this man I am.

The next, he is standing behind me. Liam Harding is standing right behind me, on purpose, and pressing me into the counter.

“You said you wanted to be fucked. Hard and fast.”

“I can’t think when you’re around.” His voice is rough.

“How hard it’s been, to—fuck—to keep my hands off you. How much I’ve wanted this, almost since the very beginning.” Oh.

“Please, let me fuck you. Let me give you what you need. Let me try, at least.” He kisses a spot under my jaw.

“I like you very much, Mara. I like talking to you. I like watching you do yoga. I like the way you always smell like sunscreen. I like how you manage to say pretty much whatever you want while still being unbelievably kind. I like being in this house with you, and everything we do in here.” His throat bobs. “I don’t think it’s a surprise that I really, really like the idea of fucking you.”