New York Nights: Shaken and Stirred. Kathleen O'Reilly

a careless smile and waved before shutting her bedroom door. “See you in the morning.”

      Gabe contemplated the closed door, contemplated his aching cock and decided on a shower.

      Cold.

      THE CHIRPING SOUND OF Tessa’s cell woke Gabe bright and early on Wednesday morning. He didn’t intend to eavesdrop on his roommate’s conversation, but she certainly wasn’t making an effort to hide her words, talking loudly, and then his ears perked up at four of them two-bedroom, one-bath.

      The more he listened, the guiltier he felt, but not so guilty that he would stop. She made noises of general agreement, tossed out some numbers and in general seemed happy as a clam.

      Gabe frowned.

      When she wandered into the living room, he was already waiting for her. “Phone call?” he asked.

      “Yeah,” she replied, a stupid answer that didn’t help him at all.

      “Oh. Making plans for tonight?” he asked, trying again. “Remember, you’re supposed to work. It’s my poker night.”

      “No plans,” she said breezily.

      “What was it then?” he asked, which sounded so pathetically obvious, but, okay, lately he seemed to be losing his usual subtle touch.

      “My potential new roommate,” she replied, beaming at him.

      Roommate? What the hell? Now, sure, they were only on day two of the Great Roommate Experiment, but in Gabe’s world, things were good. “A new roommate? What the heck is that about?”

      “I told you that I’d be out of your hair as soon as I could.”

      Yes, that had been the plan before they were sleeping together. “That’s really fast. What do you know about this person?”

      “Well, Dad, funny you should ask, but I think you’d approve. He owns a bakery in the East Village, has a dog named Butch and is subleasing a fab two-bed, one-bath convertible in Hamilton Heights. It’s no Hudson Towers, is slightly more modern than I like, but on the plus side, there’s lot of square footage, the rent is good and he sounds reasonable.”

      “A guy?” he repeated stupidly.

      Tessa folded her arms across her chest. “Since I’m currently living with a male, I decided I should expand my horizons.”

      “I thought you weren’t going to live with a guy.”

      “Do you have a penis, Gabe?”

      Gabe let that remark slide. “He’s a stranger.”

      “You were my friend,” she said, possibly a jab below the belt but the truth nonetheless.

      “That’s low, Tessa. I’m still your friend,” he told her, letting the truth wash off his back like a duck. Sleeping with someone and being friends with them were not mutually exclusive. Except with Tessa, a little voice reminded him. Gabe told the little voice to shut up.

      “I can’t live with someone who doesn’t respect my personal boundaries,” she answered. “I can’t live with someone without having boundaries, and if we’re having sex, the boundaries don’t work.”

      Now she wanted to talk about personal boundaries? He had thought they’d gotten past that about the sixth time he’d seen her naked. And now she was contemplating moving in with a complete stranger who, for all she knew could be a serial killer? Something was totally wrong in this picture, and he kept his temper, choosing his words carefully but still pissed. “I respect your personal boundaries. For God’s sake, I’m the only freaking person who’s going to respect your personal boundaries. Did you notice who left your toothbrush untouched on the sink this morning? That was me. And did you see who saved the last bit of milk for you even though I can’t drink my coffee without it? Me again.”

      “I didn’t know I was an inconvenience,” she mumbled, and there was something in her green eyes. Pain. He recognized it. And, yes, he was a jerk.

      Gawd.

      Gabe collapsed into his favorite chair, wondering why it seemed as if they were suddenly speaking in different languages. Was sex really such a friendship killer? This is Tessa, the little voice reminded him. Gabe tried again. “I don’t want you to think you have to move out. It’s not bad with you here, honestly. Actually, it’s nice having someone else around.” It was the truth.

      The pain faded from her eyes—thankfully. But Tessa still didn’t look convinced.

      “This is temporary, Gabe. We always said it was temporary. Don’t try changing things on me. I don’t like change that I don’t initiate, I don’t handle it well and in general it freaks me out. I don’t like being freaked out. Let me look at the apartment. I may hate it,” she added, which he knew was supposed to make him feel better.

      “Okay,” he agreed, still not feeling better.

      “I’ll see you at the movie,” she added, and he stared after her, trying to comprehend all that was her but not. The movie was probably a bad idea, but nothing in the world could keep him away.

      THE THEATER WAS DARK when she arrived. She’d worn a skirt, new high heels, and wickedly enough, no panties. She found him waiting for her in the last row. They’d picked a deathly dull foreign movie six weeks into its run, so the place was empty except for Tessa.

      And Xavier.

      Last night she had started to think of him as Xavier when she’d lain alone in bed and remembered their stolen moments together. She couldn’t call him by his real name, so she’d picked another name. A name so far from who he was that she never worried about confusing the two.

      Tessa picked a seat that was one down from him, wanting to feel as if they were strangers. It was more fun if they were strangers.

      Today he wore a baseball cap which hid his face from her, everything except for the full curve of his mouth, which she would recognize across a crowded room, across a packed stadium and most thrillingly, when it touched her lips.

      She smiled at the floor, adjusting her skirt across her knees, not wanting to act too forward, but she wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to casual affairs hidden in secret.

      His fingers rested on the armrest, inching toward her bare legs, her skirt, yet she was an inch out of his reach. She saw his frown and smiled. He slid down one seat, the cushions so close she could smell him, feel him, his arm hot against her own.

      When the lights dimmed, the commercials played, meaningless words, because she was only aware of him. His fingers drifted closer, so close that if she moved only one small centimeter, they would be touching. Music blared through the speakers, causing her to jump, and in that moment his hand captured her thigh, hot and purposeful. She longed to clamp her legs together, but then he would know her weakness. Still, it wasn’t long before the fingers moved. Sliding innocently back and forth along the bare skin of her thigh.

      The air was chilled, and she liked his comforting touch, but then the cunning fingers moved beneath her skirt, sliding closer to her heat. This time she did clamp her thighs closed. She heard his laugh, soft, and the fingers returned, gently pleading, seeking entrance to the secret place she denied him.

      Tessa hesitated, unsure, but the fingers were so warm, so comforting, and so finally she slid her thighs apart, only a bit. But it was enough.

      Xavier found her warmth easily, stroking her, making her squirm in her seat. Each time he moved across her lips, her muscles gripped him here, and she slid down in her seat, wanting to feel more of this wickedness. He laughed again, took his finger in his mouth and licked.

      Tessa groaned and he laughed again. Low, because he knew what this was doing to her. This time he took her in his lap, and she could feel his hardness against her rear. While she sat, the movie began to play—and so did Xavier.

      Now, without any barrier to her, he stroked her at his leisure,