“Oh God, Ben. You scared me!” I squeeze the ice cream in my hand and blow a long breath out of my mouth, my cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk.
“Sorry,” he says, not looking one bit sorry.
His eyes don’t meet mine, and I realize I’m still in my long T-shirt and panties from earlier. To his credit, I never see his gaze dip lower than my face, but who knows what he saw out of his peripheral vision?
Roommate.
I highly doubt he’s never seen a naked woman, so I’m extremely clothed by those standards. Yes, I’m not indecent at all. I decide to show him how chill I am by being caught eating ice cream in my underwear, so I take the top off and grab a spoon, all while feeling his gaze burning into me like he’s attempting to incinerate my body. He’s doing a darn good job of it.
He brushes past me to open the fridge, where he grabs a container of strawberries and sets it on the counter before turning back to me.
How small is this kitchen? Was he always standing this close to me?
He doesn’t look affected by our proximity at all as he reaches around me for the cutting board and knife. He stands there, chopping strawberries and placing them in a bowl, while I eat spoonful after spoonful of my delectable, cold dessert, and we don’t speak. Just like roommates do when they are extremely comfortable with each other and don’t need to fill the air with empty conversation.
Right? Right.
“I got into culinary school,” I blurt out, desperately needing to talk.
His knife continues chopping strawberries as he glances over his shoulder at me.
“Dammit,” he says, and I flinch.
“Well, no, I mean … I consider it a good thing. It’s sort of my dream. I know everyone thinks I’m going to graduate school, but I’m not. I just haven’t told anyone yet—”
“No,” he says, cutting me off.
“Yes, I’m doing it, and I won’t let anyone tell me any different—”
“Can you grab me a towel?” He turns, and I see blood dripping from his thumb.
I quickly grab the towel and lay it over his hand. “Oh my God, Ben. That’s a lot of—.”
I can feel my stomach sink as I sway, and then a strong hand wraps around my bicep.
“Hey, it’s only a little nick. Are you okay?” He pushes gently on my arm, walking me backward until we get to the table, and he hooks a foot around a chair, pulling it out.
“Great. Peachy.”
Darn. There’s that word again.
He still has the towel wrapped around his thumb as he crouches down to look at me.
“I’m good. Want me to take a look at that?” I gesture toward his hand, so he’ll quit staring at me with those brown eyes that look like they can see right into my soul.
“You almost fainted at the sight of it,” he says, his brows going straight up his forehead.
“Right.” I nod and sit back on my hands.
I freeze as his hand—the one that doesn’t have the cut—reaches out, and it brushes lightly across my forehead.
“Your bruise is coming in nicely,” he comments before removing his hand.
I want to scream for him to put it back. I feel so cool now with his skin not touching mine.
“I bruise easy,” I say with a shrug. I don’t know why I said it. I don’t bruise easy.
“I’m going to go put a Band-Aid on. Sit tight. Don’t try to get up until I get back.”
He pushes up from his crouch, and I drop my eyes. The heat rising on my cheeks makes me flush even more. I tap my fingers against the condensation forming on the ice cream as I wait for him to come back.
Ben walks back around the corner and holds his newly bandaged thumb up. “Good as new,” he says with a grin, and I can’t help but smile back at him.
Who are you, and what have you done to my body? Why won’t you put your hands all over me?
I’m thinking like a sex-starved woman, and I need out. I’ve got to get away from this hard-bodied, sex-godlike man of a roommate.
Sex god? I snort, clearly amused at my thoughts.
Ben crinkles his forehead in confusion. It’s hard to look at his beautiful, curly brown hair and his hard muscles beneath that T-shirt and not have some sort of attraction.
“So, culinary school?” He cocks an eyebrow as he goes back to slicing his strawberries.
“Yep. Would you mind not spreading that around? Besides you, I’ve told … well, no one.” I shovel another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. I’m starting to feel sick with all the sugar filling my stomach.
He stops his slicing and turns to face me. “No one?”
“No one. My parents think I’m here to go to Vanderbilt for graduate school, so one day, I can take over the family business.”
“Let me get this straight. You moved here to go to school and don’t think your parents will check in on anything, and then one day, maybe three or four years from now, when you’re supposed to graduate, you think they’ll just overlook that they never got a notification of the time or location where their darling girl is supposed to graduate with her graduate degree … no questions asked?”
“Yes, basically.” I nod and give him a wilting smile.
He doubles over, his silent laughter making his face turn red before he finally rights himself and wipes under both eyes. “Damn, you are crazy.” He grabs his bowl of strawberries and comes to sit next to me.
“I’m not. Just smothered.” I set my ice cream down and pull my feet up into the chair with me before he grunts and clears his throat, suddenly looking at a very interesting spot on the wall next to
