Chapter 9
TYLER
I shut the bathroom door behind me and lean back against it, exhaling like I just finished running a marathon.
The room is still faintly warm from his shower, Jamie’s scent—vanilla and something else—lingering in the air. Normally I don’t even notice this stuff, but right now everything feels too close, too intimate, like I walked into the afterimage of him.
I drag a hand over my face. My pulse is doing some embarrassing jumpy thing. It’s been a long time since anything rattled me like this.
But it shouldn’t have! I wasn’t lying when I told Jamie the dildo is just that—a toy. Almost everyone uses them, including me. Sex is something I think about—and do!—constantly, let alone jerking off. A misplaced toy should barely register on my radar.
But I keep replaying the moment Jamie barged in.
His eyes had gone wide, mortified, his whole body frozen in a fight-or-flight mode.
And then his relief, reluctant and fragile, when he saw my reaction.
How his whole body unlocked and his cheeks turned so, so pink.
And then he laughed, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him.
He was so sweet and cute when he was embarrassed, nervous.
Cute. That’s the word that kept echoing in my head. That has been echoing in my head since I met him. I mean, I keep comparing him to a bunny. That’s already weird in and of itself.
And then there’s the other thing.
I suck in a breath. My stomach does this ridiculous twist when I picture the size of that toy again. A size that might not be inhuman but definitely requires, how shall I put it, commitment.
And Jamie… Jamie is small.
Not child-like, nothing like that. Just…slim, not very tall. Soft around the edges in a way that makes him look like he belongs somewhere with fireplaces, sweaters, and hot cocoa. Everything about him is gentle. His voice, his demeanor, the way he touches things like they might break.
It makes the contrast between him and the toy all the more obscene.
Which is why the image of him holding something that size, let alone using it, hits me like a punch.
A hot, sinking punch that slides down my spine and settles low.
The fact that he so casually admitted he has something even bigger in his arsenal is… Jesus.
I brace both hands on the sink and bow my head, letting out a quiet, frustrated laugh.
“What the hell, man?” I mutter to myself.
I shouldn’t be that shocked; this is just who I am. My body is glitching because my system got overloaded with a conversation and a visual that were, objectively, stimulating.
And now I need to do something about it. Because it won’t just go away, it never does.
Dammit. I really didn’t want Jamie to have to deal with one of my visitors the very first week he moved in.
Well, I’ve tried. And I’ve failed.
I need to get laid. Soon, before I do something stupid, like start acting weird around Jamie. Or looking at him differently. Or remembering, at the worst moment, that he owns something too big for someone with such delicate wrists and such a narrow waist.
I can’t do that to him. He’s still heartbroken and lonely—not that he’s said so, but it’s not hard to guess, given his backstory. He needs to feel safe, relaxed. He most definitely doesn’t need a roommate whose brain misfires over a piece of silicone.
I blow out a long breath. Phone. I need to get my phone. Lisa should be available to drop by. I sure as hell hope she is.