Simmering Love (Slow Burn Book 3) Page 3

  Pepper lands on a medical show—true to her word—and watches enthusiastically, making comments about everything that happens like she’s captioning the show for me. I can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness for my brother, but I also feel happy about this new development in my life. Maybe this is what I need.

  “Oh, did you see that? She just made that surgery look effortless,” Pepper says, completely oblivious to the warring emotions I have going on inside my mind. “Is something wrong?”

  She leans over to peer at me, her attention fully on what I’ll say instead of the TV now, and I feel a little put on the spot.

  “Yeah—I mean, no, nothing is wrong. I’m okay,” I say with a shrug and get up to take my plate to the sink. “Want me to take yours?”

  “Oh, no, I plan on eating another plate full,” she says, picking up a takeout container and proceeding to dump the contents onto her plate, proving to me she meant exactly what she said.

  I don’t know where she puts it all.

  “Is there anything else you need done tonight? I’m about to get some sleep,” I say, stopping in the entrance to the hallway that leads to our rooms.

  The doors are mirror images, standing right across the hall from each other.

  “Oh, so soon? Darn. No, I’m good. I’ll just wash everything up and be in my room in a jiffy. I’m very quiet,” she says with a smile.

  I can’t help but think about how I want to be the one getting loud noises out of her. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at myself, and my mouth quirks up in a grin even though I try to hide it. This is going to be an interesting adjustment. I should have thought twice before I asked her to move in, but I’ve always been practical and thorough. No harm in acting rash once in my life.

  “Okie dokie.” I want to clap my hand over my mouth as soon as the words leave.

  Okie dokie?

  I turn abruptly and walk to my room, only daring to breathe a sigh of relief once I have the door shut and my back leaning against it.

  Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why have I suddenly turned into a prepubescent boy who giggles at the mere thought of a girl?

  She has to think I’m crazy, just leaving suddenly like that.

  Fuck.

  I reach behind me and pull my shirt over my head before shucking my shorts. I stare down at myself, confused about my dick being at half-mast. I’ve only just met the girl, but attraction isn’t something that you can choose; it just is. Looks like Big Ben is attracted to our new roommate.

  I reach down, taking myself in my hand, and squeeze. The feeling sends a jolt through my body, and I groan. I’m not sure if I should do this or not. Another squeeze, another groan, and then I can’t help myself.

  I pump myself a few times, keeping my brain switched off, only thinking about the sensations it sends through my body—but then it happens. She happens. Worming her way into my alone time with her cute laugh and long, shiny hair. I groan, and this time, it’s not from a good feeling, but from knowing that I shouldn’t be thinking about her while I’m doing this.

  Is it so wrong though? I’m obviously attracted to her.

  I stare down at myself, at my hand squeezing my cock, and I pump again, giving in to my brain. An embarrassingly short time later, I’m coming, spurred on by my un-roommate-like thoughts. As I clean myself up, I war between shame at how she has me tied in knots and how I just used it to my advantage.

  Maybe a cold shower will help cool me off.

  4

  Pepper

  I realize that my spoon is suspended in the air, a clump of chicken and rice about to fall off of it and onto the carpet as I jerk back to the TV, seeing a hospital but not comprehending. My mind is with the tall, dark, and handsome guy who just made a quick getaway, leaving me sitting in the living room, wondering what just happened. I’m not dumb. I get that I shouldn’t fall for the first guy I’ve met on my new adventure here, but dang, if he’s running for the hills just after eating dinner with me, my game is not good.

  I never dated much in high school. I was—my mom was—very focused on my extracurriculars and with everything I had going on. There was no way I could focus on a guy as well. So, my experience with men is next to nothing. I foolishly thought the way to flirt would be ingrained in me, like how finding a mate is ingrained in animals, but I should have realized that humans are a lot more complex.

  I don’t want a relationship with Ben.

  Benjamin … swoon.

  I realize getting involved with a roommate can only lead to disaster. But he’s easy on the eyes, and I thought maybe I could practice my whole get to know you routine.

  Oh well.

  I stand up from the couch and gather the mostly empty boxes and my plate, carrying them into the kitchen to clean and throw away. I’m a neat freak, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see that Ben keeps his apartment pretty pristine. It looks like we won’t have to have any sit-down talks about cleanliness anytime soon.

  I hear the shower start in the bathroom and decide to finish the show I was watching until the bathroom becomes available. This is a new one for me. I’ve never shared a bathroom with anyone, much less a guy.

  Laying my head back on the couch, I’m hit with the overwhelming exhaustion from moving in. I feel like if I don’t move right this moment, I’ll wake up in this exact position tomorrow morning. Not that I have anything to do tomorrow. Or the day after that. But I’m going to make it on my own—without my parents’ or my cousin’s help.

  With a groan, I sit up and drag myself off the couch. Tucking my feet into the house shoes in front of me, I shuffle down the hallway, noting the light is still on in the bathroom.

  Really? He’s worse than a girl.

  I yawn and lean against my doorframe as the knob on the bathroom rattles, and the door opens. Ben steps out, a fluffy towel wrapped around his middle, showcasing his deep V that he must work out hard for. He stops suddenly when he notices me standing there, and I instantly feel my heartrate kick into high gear.

  What are you doing, Pepper? Get yourself together.

  “Oh, hey. I was waiting for the bathroom.” I gesture behind him like he doesn’t know where his bathroom is.

  “Oh. Okay. Well, it’s all yours.”

  He stands there a moment longer as I watch beads of water chase each other down between his cut muscles before he clears his throat, and I snap out of it.

  “Right. Okay. Right,” I say and spin to walk into my room, but I don’t quite make it through the doorway. Instead, I slam my head into the doorframe, bouncing back a few steps and clutching my head.

  “Oh my God, are you okay?”

  Ben is beside me, peering at my forehead, and I can feel the warmth from his freshly showered body. The scent of whatever masculine body wash he uses assaults my nostrils, and I take a deep breath under the guise of trying to stop myself from screaming. My head freaking hurts. I touch my forehead and then pull my hand away, noting there’s no blood.

  “Damn … you’re going to have a bruise,” Ben says, peering closer, his face only a few inches from mine.

  My breath catches in my chest. Our eyes lock, and I immediately avert mine, looking down. Big mistake. His towel is starting to slip, revealing even more of that fantastic V, before he reaches down to catch it and keep it closed. I can feel my skin flush, and I thank my good senses that I didn’t turn on the hallway light before I stood here like a creep in the dark. I don’t need Ben seeing how he affects me. Especially since he’s calm, cool, and collected and not interested in his friend’s baby cousin. He’s just helping out Mason by letting me stay here.

  “I’m fine,” I say with a weak smile as I rub my forehead again.

  Before Ben can say anything else, I rush into my room and shut the door, leaving him standing in the hallway. I lean back against the door and groan. Forgetting about the shower I wanted to take, I quickly change into sleep shorts and a T-shirt, tie my hair up in a bun, and crawl into bed, my head throbbing in rhythm with my heartbeat.

/>   I’m embarrassed, and I want to erupt into tears and sob at how lonely I feel, but I know that I have to be strong. I can be independent. Well … for as long as my secret stays a secret.

  I roll my eyes and mentally berate myself. You are so stupid, Pepper. How did you think this was a good idea? How do you think you’ll get away with this?

  Turning over, I ball up a fist and slam it against my pillow. Determined to throw a fit instead of crying.

  My phone rings from where I set it on the bedside, pulling me from my musings, and I roll over to see my mom calling. Exactly what I need—more questions.

  As soon as I answer the call, Mom doesn’t even wait for me to say hello, her voice immediately bursting through the speaker. “Hello, dear.”

  “Hi, Mom,” I say, homesickness hitting me in the stomach again.

  “My sweet Pepper, it’s good to hear your voice.”

  I smile at the familiarity of her tone.

  “I miss you, Mom,” I say, tears threatening to choke me.

  “I miss you too, my sweet pea. How is Nashville? Has Mason been helping? I called him at the beginning of this week and threatened to come up there if he didn’t.”

  I laugh at the visual of my mother—who is shorter than me, and I’m not tall, only at five feet two inches—threatening Mason.

  “It’s been good. I moved into my new apartment today, and I’m going to Mason’s tomorrow for dinner with him and Jules and little Ginny. Oh, Mama, you should see her. Her cheeks are so chubby.”

  “Your father and I are planning to come and visit in a month or two. We want you to give us a tour of the campus when we do.”

  I freeze at her words. A tour of the campus. Of my grad school’s campus.

  “Did we put enough money in your account to cover tuition?” Mom’s question draws me back into the conversation.

  “Oh, of course. It was plenty,” I tell her, but in actuality, I haven’t touched it.

  I can’t be independent and rely on my parents’ money. Instead, I cashed out some stocks that I had in Stratten Enterprises—my family’s company—and I’m using that. I want to use my own money, make my way. I’ll give their money back … once I tell them.

  “When is orientation?” My mom is very goal-oriented. She’s always had a plan and stuck to it.

  My house in Texas always has a to-do list, and it’s never finished, so I don’t know why I’m surprised that she’s asking me questions about school. I guess since I’ve put it out of my mind, I think it should be out of everyone’s mind.

  “Oh, um …” I say as I scramble to find my laptop. I know Mom will double-check dates and times, so I’d better tell her when the real orientation is going to be. The one I’m not going to. Because I’m not going to grad school. “I’m not sure the exact time. I wrote it down here somewhere.” I stop speaking, hoping she will drop it.

  “Okay, it’s not a big deal,” she says, letting me off the hook, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Just let me know when you find out, honey. Your father and I are so proud of you,” she says, her voice going soft at the end.

  A pang of guilt stabs through me at how I’m lying to everyone. I don’t know why I feel like I can’t tell the truth. I just don’t want to face the disappointment on my mother’s face or the inevitable questions on why I don’t want to become something, in her words, wonderful and great. I can’t reason with her that I can become something wonderful and great with my bachelor’s degree. I’m plenty smart, but I’ve never had to work for anything in my life, and I’m tired of being that spoiled princess everyone sees back home.

  “Thanks, Mom. I really need to go. I’m exhausted from moving.” I pick at a loose thread on my sleep shorts as I inwardly cringe at my life right now.

  “Okay, baby. Call me tomorrow. I want to know all about everything you’re doing. Also, I looked up your apartment complex, and you really should have let me call around. I could’ve found you something better. I don’t like the look of that place.”

  I smile to myself at the way my housing situation turned out. Mom has no idea just how much she wouldn’t like where I’m living at the moment.

  “I’m perfectly safe, Mom. I’m not at that apartment complex anymore. I even found a roommate. Someone Mason knows,” I say without really thinking it through. I hope that Mom won’t make it her mission to find out everything about my new roommate. I grimace and almost drop the phone.

  “Is that right? Well, I wish you had talked to me or your father about it first, but I realize you’re a grown woman. I would love to meet this roommate of yours.”

  No, you really wouldn’t.

  “Yeah, maybe soon, Mom. I love you. Tell Dad I love him.”

  I listen as Mom gives me kisses across the phone before I hang up and flop back on my bed.

  What a mess I’m in.

  5

  Ben

  I wake up to four missed calls from Mark.

  Shit. I should have realized that it would only be a short matter of time before I heard from him again. He can’t stay away for long.

  “You won’t hear from me again,” he said angrily before he left.

  I snort with a scoff as I remember and roll my eyes. I always hear from him again when he needs something. A place to stay, food, money. It’s normally money. I press the voice-mail icon and set my phone on speaker as I get up and ready for the day.

  “Ben, it’s Mark. I’m sorry. I, uh … well, I need some help. Call me back.”

  The voice mail ends, and I sit down, heaving a big sigh. Bending forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and rub my temples with one hand. I shove my phone in my pocket as I stand and resolve to deal with that situation later.

  Opening my door, I see that Pepper’s is still closed, and I stare at it for a moment, remembering the way her eyes locked in on my naked torso last night and how her breath stopped for a second before it sped up. I don’t know why I noticed all of that, but now, I can’t get it out of my mind.

  I continue into the kitchen to fix my standard breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a side of avocado toast, but I’m distracted by my phone ringing again.

  Mark. So, I guess we’re going to do this now.

  “Hello?” I can’t keep the frustration out of my voice as I bite out the curt greeting.

  “Ben, thank goodness. Listen, I need some help,” Mark says, his words running together as if he can’t get them out of his mouth fast enough.

  “You always need some help,” I say, pulling the carton of eggs from the fridge.

  “That’s not fair,” he retorts.

  “That’s completely fair. When is the last time you talked to me and didn’t ask me for something?”

  “I don’t have time for this. Can you help me or not?”

  “How much do you need?” I grit my teeth as I wait for his reply.

  “Ten.”

  “Ten dollars?” I freeze, knowing it’s not but praying like hell that he means ten dollars.

  “Ten thousand,” he says, his voice begging.

  My heart hardens and breaks at the same time.

  “I just gave you two last month. What did you do with it?” I ask, my hand wrapping around an egg and cracking it before I realize what I’m doing. Muttering a curse, I throw the shattered egg in the trash and run my hand under the faucet. Silence greets me on the other end, and I don’t even know why I ask sometimes. “Look, I say this every time, but I mean it this time. I’m done helping after this. I don’t have ten, but I’ll get you what I can. Pay it off and be done. Quit this toxic habit you have, Mark.”

  “Don’t tell Mom, okay?” Mark’s voice comes through the speaker, pleading with me with a touch of whininess that I hate. It grates on my nerves every single time I hear it, and it always has, growing up.

  “I won’t tell her if you promise me.”

  He doesn’t know it, but I’ve never told her about all the money I’ve lent him. Although I have told Dad. This has been going on since Mark was old enough to know what a
bet was and that, if you won it, there was money to be had.

  “I promise.”

  Though I know it’s an empty promise.

  I let out a sigh and hang my head for a minute. I know he’s lying. He knows that I know he’s lying, but I can’t ever say no to my baby brother. There is only one year between us, and I’ve always been a sort of protector to him. Since we were latchkey kids, I had to assume the position of a parent, and the tendency hasn’t ever left. He uses it to his advantage now, and I resent it, but I can’t quit him. I can’t stay out of his life completely because I know how much he can fuck it up.

  “I’ve gotta go. When do you need whatever I can get?”

  “Tomorrow,” he says.

  I sigh again.

  Tomorrow. Awesome.

  “Okay, I think I can swing five. Have you talked to Dad?”

  “No.”

  Great.

  “Okay, talk to Dad about the other five,” I say and reach for another egg, this time being careful to hold it gingerly.

  “Hey, Ben? Thanks,” Mark says before the line goes dead.

  I mutter unintelligibly before kicking the cabinet below me. I crack the egg, watching it drip into the pan, and stick the spatula in to stir it around.

  “What did the cabinet do to you?” I hear Pepper’s voice ask from the kitchen door and snap my head up.

  Her hair is sticking out in all directions, and her eyes are still filled with sleep. I have the urge to take my fingers and smooth the flyaways back from her face.

  “Nothing. Just cooking,” I mutter as I jerk my eyes from lingering any further down on her scantily clad body.

  “You could give Gordon Ramsay a run for angriest chef,” she says as I hear her pull one of the chairs out behind me, the seat creaking as she sits.

  “You want some breakfast?”

  “Oh, no, thanks. I will make myself the breakfast of champions in a moment,” she says.