The Room Mate Read online

  The Room Mate

  Copyright © 2017 Kendall Ryan

  Copy Editing and Formatting by

  Pam Berehulke

  Cover Design by

  Sara Eirew

  Photography by

  Brian Jamie

  Cover Model

  Christian Hogue

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  About the Book

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Epilogue

  Up Next in This Series

  Acknowledgments

  Stay Connected

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kendall Ryan

  About the Book

  The last time I saw my best friend’s younger brother, he was a geek wearing braces. But when Cannon shows up to crash in my spare room, I get a swift reality check.

  Now twenty-four, he’s broad shouldered and masculine, and so sinfully sexy, I want to climb him like the jungle gyms we used to enjoy. At six-foot-something with lean muscles hiding under his T-shirt, a deep sexy voice, and full lips that pull into a smirk when he studies me, he’s pure temptation.

  Fresh out of a messy breakup, he doesn’t want any entanglements. But I can resist, right?

  I’m holding strong until the third night of our new arrangement when we get drunk and he confesses his biggest secret of all: he’s cursed when it comes to sex. Apparently he’s a god in bed, and women instantly fall in love with him.

  I’m calling bullshit. In fact, I’m going to prove him wrong, and if I rack up a few much-needed orgasms in the process, all the better.

  There’s no way I’m going to fall in love with Cannon. But once we start . . . I realize betting against him may have been the biggest mistake of my life.

  Prologue

  Looking back over the last two months, I could only wonder how I came to be standing over his body holding a can of gasoline and a book of matches.

  This wasn’t me, wasn’t the path my life was supposed to go down, and yet here I was—entangled with a man who would never be mine, and staring into the face of what was surely a class-A felony.

  Love makes you do crazy, irrational things. And yet, even knowing where we’d end up, I doubted I would have had the strength to stop myself from falling for him. There was just something about him that called to me. Something magnetic and primal.

  Looking down at his still form, I yearned for him even now. I sure as hell picked a weird moment to decide I loved him.

  The powerful stench of gasoline hit my nostrils, pulling me from my daydream. It was time to move.

  Chapter One

  Cannon

  The heart was a strange and amazing muscle. You couldn’t live or love without it, but most people didn’t think about it often. Didn’t think about the steady, faithful organ that beat one hundred thousand times a day. Most people probably didn’t know that a woman’s heartbeat was faster than a man’s by about eight beats per minute, or that its four chambers pumped blood to every cell in the body except for the corneas.

  Yet it could be a pesky little nuisance at times. Making us feel things we didn’t want to, say and do things we’d never planned on. And lately, it was the source of all my problems. But at this exact moment, the heart wasn’t what I was concerned with. It was a body part further south, much further south.

  I liked vaginas. I really did. But staring into the mouth of one old enough to belong to my grandmother wasn’t my idea of an exciting evening. No fucking thank you.

  “Everything looks good, Mrs. Thurston.” Snapping off my latex gloves, I rose to my feet, threw them in the trash, then helped her into a sitting position on the exam table.

  She adjusted her bifocals and offered me a coy smile. “Thank you for making that so pleasant. There should be a new rule that all gynecologists have to look like you.”

  I chuckled. “Thank you. But I’m not a gynecologist. I’m a med student on my OB-GYN rotation.”

  That ends tomorrow, thank God. I’ve been inside more vaginas these last four weeks than all four years of undergrad combined. And that’s saying something, believe me.

  But this rotation would be the closest I’d get to any pussy for a good long while. I’d sworn a temporary ban three days ago, after my latest fling went psycho.

  Her wild streak in bed had made her an excellent fuck-buddy, but apparently that extra dose of crazy ran deeper than I thought. She swore we were soul mates, yet I didn’t even know her last name or which sports teams she rooted for. I told her what we’d shared the past few weeks was fun, but that it was over.

  Two days later, my place was broken into and nearly everything I owned was destroyed. Bleach was poured over my couch, bed, and clothes, and my laptop and TV smashed. She was currently in police custody, and I’d been crashing on a friend’s couch while I tried to figure out my next move. My landlord had decided I was too much trouble and served me an eviction notice. Working twelve-hour shifts didn’t exactly allow much time for house-hunting.

  Dick, good dick, made women crazy. It turned women’s hearts into a frenzied mess, causing them to declare their undying love and latch on. I couldn’t continue to unleash that kind of chaos. I needed to buckle down and focus on my education and my future. I had to declare my specialty and apply for residencies for next year, and I was already pushing the deadline as it was. My mother and older sister were counting on me. They were what really mattered, not chasing women. It was a no-brainer. My nights inside the silky-warm perfection of a woman’s most tender place were done. Until I graduated and landed a job, anyway.

  Mom and Allie had sacrificed too much. I’d worked too hard, winning scholarships and keeping my grades up. I couldn’t lose it all now . . . and I had the sinking feeling that that was exactly what might happen. My nose had spent too much time sniffing out pussy and not enough on the grindstone. Sure, thinking with my dick had been fun while it lasted, but it wasn’t worth losing everything. Now I had to buckle down, put my Ivy League education to good use, and hope it wasn’t already too late.

  Yep . . . the new Cannon Roth was going to be levelheaded, in control, and most importantly: celibate. I’d just have to settle for swabbing the insides of seventy-year-olds like Mrs. Thurston with a giant Q-tip. Not nearly as satisfying, but it was ab
out to become my way of life.

  Sitting down on the stool across from my patient, I typed a few notes into the laptop. “If only all patients could be as easy as you, Mrs. Thurston.”

  “Did you just call me easy?” She winked.

  “I did have my hand up your skirt after barely a hello.” I grinned back at her.

  The attending physician’s eyes widened but Mrs. Thurston merely laughed, a deep, throaty sound that made me grin.

  “Thank you for that.” She reached one wrinkled, age-spotted hand toward me, and when I placed my hand in hers, she squeezed. “I haven’t had a doctor take the time to treat me like a regular person in a long time. You’ll make a great physician one day.”

  I accepted her compliment with a smile. It wasn’t the first time I’d been told my bedside manner put people at ease. And if I couldn’t have fun with my patients, there was no way I’d survive the twelve-hour shifts and lack of sleep. It could be brutal sometimes.

  As I walked into the hall after Dr. Haslett, he said something about running cultures for a preventive screening, and I nodded. Then a cute nurse winked at me, her gaze dropping to the front of my scrubs where I was certain the outline of my dick had her mouth watering. I was two seconds away from leading her into the storage room for a quick fuck when my brain snapped into action.

  Shit. I’d made my celibacy vow not even five minutes ago and was already tempted to break it. What had I been thinking? Clearly this idea was doomed to fail . . . which meant I needed a replacement. Something I could actually stick to. I smiled and walked straight past the nurse as I started concocting a new plan in my head.

  There would be three simple rules to follow if I needed to get laid. It could only last one night, no names would be exchanged, and no phone numbers either. Following those rules ensured it would be a one-time thing, and the woman couldn’t go falling in love with me after. That meant no fucking the pretty nurses at the hospital where I worked.

  Feeling the tiniest bit more in control, I rolled my shoulders and checked my watch. Still two more hours until my twelve-hour shift ended.

  Just then, my phone vibrated. I reached into my pocket and skimmed the screen as I continued following Dr. Haslett to our next appointment. It was a text from Allie, telling me she’d found me a place to live.

  I smiled with relief. Thank God, at least one of my problems was solved . . .

  Then I finished reading her message.

  My smile crashed to the floor. Allie wanted me to share a house with Paige, her oldest and closest friend. Her hot-as-hell, totally off-limits BFF who I’d lusted after from the moment I hit puberty.

  The gods had just laughed at my plan and thrown a curveball of their own. Something told me I was about to become very well-acquainted with my hand.

  Chapter Two

  Paige

  At twenty-eight, a woman began to question things. Big, complex things like destiny, fate, and what I was supposed to be doing with my life. I was fairly certain my grand purpose didn’t include working fifty hours a week and never experiencing anything more exciting than splurging on spicy Thai takeout every Friday night. Surely there had to be more to life than that.

  But lately life had been like a cheap pair of underwear—sneaking up, surprising you with discomfort at all the worst times.

  Little did I know that destiny was about to smack me in the face with her irony.

  My phone rang, and I grabbed it from the counter. “Hello?”

  “I need your help, Paige,” my best friend said as soon as I answered.

  Abandoning the stack of junk mail I’d been flipping through, I leaned against the dining table. Enchilada was snoring underneath it, dreaming about whatever tiny dogs dream about.

  “Sure, Allie. What’s going on?”

  She hesitated, making me wonder what kind of favor she had in mind. Allie was like a sister to me; she had to know there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.

  “Cannon needs a place to stay,” she finally said.

  Except for that.

  Suppressing a sudden twitch in my jaw, I slipped off my heels and took a sip from my water bottle. Cannon? Share my tiny place with her geeky little brother who I hadn’t seen or spoken to in years? Awkward much?

  I was a private person, and I valued my alone time. It was why I chose to have no roommates and no drama. This was not the news I wanted on a Thursday evening after a hectic day at work. Allie, Cannon, and I had been pretty much inseparable growing up, but after we’d moved on and left for college, I hadn’t kept in touch with him at all.

  “I don’t know, Allie. My place is pretty tight as it is.” I lived in a six-hundred-square-foot duplex, and while I did technically have a spare room, its only furnishings were a lumpy futon and a writing desk. Just thinking about sharing this sardine can with another person made me feel stuffy, so I wandered into the living room to open the window. “Why can’t he stay with you and James?”

  Allie hesitated for a beat, and I knew I wouldn’t like her answer. “James doesn’t think that’s a good idea. He and I have only just started living together. It’s a big step, you know?”

  Funny how your decisions as a couple seem to line up with his wants more often than yours. It was just another reason on the growing list of why I didn’t like her new fiancé. But I didn’t want to get back into that swamp of a conversation again, so I merely offered a noncommittal grunt.

  As she kept trying to persuade me, I idly watched a man approach along the sidewalk leading to my house. I lived in half of an old Victorian house a few blocks from the University of Michigan campus, so I was sure his destination wasn’t actually my house, but a girl could dream. Dressed in a black V-neck sweater, dark jeans, and boots, he was tall and muscular. His messy hair was cropped neatly on the sides, but long enough on top to grab during rough sex and hang onto for what would surely be the ride of my life.

  I shook my head, shocked at my suddenly dirty mind. What the hell? Where had that thought come from? Lack of sex and being overworked, most likely. I pushed the thought away and tried to pay attention.

  “His apartment was ransacked, and he’s basically homeless,” Allie was explaining, her tone pleading.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, trying to stand my ground.

  The guy outside stopped in front of my house and studied the house numbers. In my spot from the second-story front window, I stayed mostly concealed, peeking out from behind the heavy drapes.

  Now that he was closer, I could make out green eyes fringed in thick black lashes, and a five o’clock shadow on his square jaw. He was perfection.

  His mouth was etched into a firm line, his expression impassive. If you were going to get a read on this man, first you were going to have to work to get beneath his steely reserve.

  “He’s in his last year of med school, and in just over two months, he’ll be moving away for a residency. It’d be stupid for him to sign a new lease. Please, Paige?”

  Ugh. All right, already. I swore I could hear her puppy-dog eyes over the phone.

  “Fine. Two months.”

  Allie squealed her thanks, but I wasn’t listening anymore. Those long legs had started carrying the man forward again, and this time, right up my front steps.

  Shit! He was headed for my door. My heart pounded faster, and my mouth went totally dry.

  “I have to go, Allie.”

  “Thanks, Paigey! I owe you one,” she sang.

  I tossed my phone on the coffee table and hurried toward the door. As I went, I snatched a glance of myself in the hall mirror, and was relieved to see that I still looked pulled together from work. Black pencil skirt, white silk blouse, my blond hair tied into a long ponytail.

  The confident series of knocks on my front door made my stomach flutter. My fingers curled around the doorknob and when I pulled it open, my breath caught at what I saw. If I thought he was merely attractive before, nothing could have prepared me for having
him so close. He towered over me—at least six foot three, I’d wager—and had a muscular build that advertised hours of dedication at the gym. His scent was maddening. It wasn’t cologne. It was subtler than that, maybe bodywash, but it was crisp and masculine and mouthwatering nonetheless.

  “Paige?” he asked.

  Shit, even his voice was hot, deep and smooth and rich.

  More importantly, Mister Sex-on-Legs knew my name.

  I squinted at him, my mouth opening, then closing without a sound. Recognition clawed at the edges of my brain.

  “C-Cannon?” I forced out, my voice breathless and thick.

  His mouth pulled into a happy smirk, and he held out a hand. “God, it’s been years.”

  “At least five,” I said, placing my palm in his. His hand was warm and solid, and the touch of his skin sent tingles rushing through me. My nipples hardened into points beneath my bra, and my ovaries did a little happy dance. It had been months since I’d had a man in my house, and my entire body was primed and ready.

  “You look well,” he said, still smirking at me. And still clasping my hand.

  “You’ve grown up,” was all I managed. Holy hell, had he ever.

  He’d gone away to college at Yale, where he’d finished early, then moved to Pennsylvania for med school. He’d transferred to Michigan at some point last year, although I wasn’t clear on why. Allie occasionally gave me updates about his life, but he and I weren’t close anymore, not like when we were kids. He was her kid brother; I had no reason to know the intimate details about him. But standing before him now at the threshold of my small home, something felt very intimate about this moment.

  “So have you.” His gaze traced down the length of me, pausing briefly at my breasts—which had never been more achy and full. I suppressed a flash of disappointment when he finally dropped my hand.

  The fuck . . . this was Cannon. And here he was staring at my breasts. My brain struggled to catch up to what was happening.