Not Until You. Roni Loren

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Not Until You - Roni  Loren

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boring.

      And lonely.

      I knocked.

      For a few moments I didn’t hear anything, and I wondered if they weren’t going to come to the door. Maybe it was a sign from the universe that I had no business being here, that I’d truly lost my mind. Because really, I probably had. But then there were voices and the shift of the lock, and my muscles seemed to turn to stone. The door swung open, Pike and the scent of pizza greeting me. He leaned against the doorjamb, looking edible in his tight black tee and worn jeans. His mouth curved upward, and I forgot to breathe for a second. Oh crap, how was I going to go through with this?

      He glanced down at my outfit and the tequila tucked under my arm. “Well, hi again, doc. Changed your mind?”

      “I, uh …”

      “Cela?” Foster appeared a few steps behind Pike, his hair wet and his chest bare. Oh, blessed, blessed Lord. My eyes automatically shifted downward, drinking in the real view of what I’d only imagined the many nights I’d listened to him through the wall—broad shoulders, honed pecs, and an abdomen so lickable that the sight of it made my tongue press to the back of my teeth. I knew I should look up, say something, but my gaze snagged lower, following the trail of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of his low-slung track pants.

      God help me. He was even prettier than my imagination had conjured—and my imagination had been aiming for the outfield already. Every feminine molecule in my body seemed to lurch toward him, my fingers aching to trace the lines of muscles he’d been hiding beneath his suits, to lick off the water droplets that had fallen from his hair onto his shoulders. My body went into full, rolling boil.

      I clenched the bottle of liquor like it was a life raft. “Hi. Um. Yeah. So I decided I really was hungry, and I’ll never drink this much alcohol myself, and I know y’all are probably settled in for the night now and don’t want company, and I don’t know if y’all really wanted me over or if you were just being nice …” Shut up, shut up, shut up. “But if you weren’t just being nice and wanted to share me—”

      Pike’s eyebrows lifted.

      My face flamed. Oh God, had I just said that? “I mean, share the tequila with me, then well, here it is and if not then that’s fi—”

      Pike pressed two fingers to my mouth, the touch shocking me into silence. “Take a breath, doc. We still have pizza, we will always accept free liquor, and we will never turn down good company.”

      My shoulders sagged, mortification bleeding through me. Way to be smooth. If they really had been flirting with me earlier, they were probably regretting that decision now. Warning: Awkward girl, straight ahead. I wet my lips when Pike lowered his hand, inadvertently tasting the salt his touch had left behind. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to intrude or anything.”

      “Is she intruding, Foster?” Pike asked, still looking at me.

      I peered past Pike’s shoulder. Foster’s gaze was unwavering, making it near impossible to hold the eye contact. Maybe he didn’t want me there after all. I glanced at my feet, but then heard the low notes of his voice. “Of course not. I don’t extend invitations I don’t mean.”

      Hot goose bumps chased over my skin, something in his firm tone making me shiver.

      Pike’s smile was pure warmth. He leaned over and took the tequila from me. “Come on in, doc. Foster decided to jump in the shower before eating, so there’s still lots of pizza left.”

      “Thanks.” I stepped inside and when Pike shut the door behind me, I had the distinct feeling of the safety net of my existence ripping to shreds beneath me.

      “I’m going to get us a few glasses,” Pike said, veering toward the kitchen.

      Foster glanced to the left toward the open bedroom door, then back to me, his expression unreadable. “Make yourself at home, Cela, and help yourself to pizza. I’ll be right back.”

      I moved around the breakfast bar and down the short hall toward the living area. The apartment was similar to mine, but the kitchen and living space weren’t open to each other. Plus, this was the bigger two-bedroom version and had a decidedly more masculine decor. The couches were leather, the furniture sleek and modern, and the artwork on the walls black and white photography. The stuff looked refined and expensive, like it should be in some high-rise loft downtown instead of in my modest apartment complex.

      I took a seat along the side of the ginormous wall-mounted TV, and a spaceship flew across the screen, the surround sound vibrating in her ears. Uh-oh. Panic flitted through me when I remembered Pike’s words from downstairs. Had he not been kidding about the Star Wars porn?

      Pike sauntered into the living room, setting the liquor, a few beers, and a couple of glasses on the coffee table, his triceps flexing beneath his gorgeous tattoos as he arranged everything. He glanced up at me, frowned. “You okay?”

      I ventured a peek at the television, saw Harrison Ford, and let out a breath. No Star Wars porn. Just straight-up Star Wars. “Yep, I’m fine.”

      “Liar,” he teased, handing me a paper plate with a slice of pizza. “You’re so tense, you’re almost vibrating. And that’s after”—he eyed the tequila—“at least a couple of shots of liquor.”

      I sighed, forcing my neck from side to side, trying to slough off my anxious state. “I’m sorry. It’s been a really long day. And I think graduation affected me more than I expected.”

      “Is that right?” Foster asked, coming back into the living room wearing a soft gray T-shirt that covered his skin but not the peaks and valleys of the man beneath. He slipped between the couch and my chair, his fresh soap scent drifting over me, and took the spot on the love seat across from me. “How so?”

      I took a bite of pizza, taking a moment to gather myself so I wouldn’t start rambling again. They were just two guys. Yes, they were beautiful and sexy and had starred in too many of my fantasies, but I was a woman who had just graduated at the top of her very competitive class. I was capable of coherent speech. Mostly.

      I swallowed my bite and attempted a shrug that said yep, I’m carefree and totally at ease, fellas. “Well, it’s something I’ve been working at for seven years.”

      “Seven?” Foster interrupted.

      “I got into vet school a year early.”

      “Of course.” He made some face akin to a scowl, but covered it so fast I couldn’t be sure.

      “And so I’ve had my eye on this one prize, this one goal. And now it’s done.”

      “But that’s good, right?” Pike asked, peeling off a pepperoni and popping it into his mouth. “Wasn’t that the point? God knows I was happy to finally scrape through my four years.”

      “Sure. It’s great,” I said, mustering up some semblance of a smile. “But I realized I’ve done little else besides work on that goal. These were supposed to be the fun times before I went back home to south Texas to settle down and work in my father’s practice. But I’ve lived here for four years and have spent ninety-five percent of it either in class, studying, or sleeping.”

      “Now that,” Pike said, pointing

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