Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men’s Club Book 1)

Is it possible for the worst moment of your life to lead to the best?

A few months ago, I would have told those everything happens for a reason people to go and suck a fat one, but now I’m on a trajectory that feels so undeniably right, I’m finding it hard to be negative about anything.

Well, except the message I got from an unknown number last night.

All it said was we need to talk, but I know without asking that it was Kyle. Normally that kind of thing would have prompted me to reach out or to turn to his OnlyFans to remind myself of why I left, but all it did was make me feel sad for the life we were building together.

And then I went and climbed into bed with Beau, and the sadness miraculously went away. He’s shown me that there are people deserving of my time and others who aren’t, and I’ve wasted enough of it on my ex to be able to confidently walk away without doubts now.

Which is why I stopped by the store on the way home and bought every coloring book I could find. I figure a guy like Beau isn’t going to be impressed by flowers or chocolates or whatever, so this can be my offering.

A way of asking him to stick it out for a little longer, because I’m almost there. I have a goal and drive to get there. Only a few things to bump off my list, and then I’ll be able to be the man he needs me to be.

Sure, I’ve been wrong in the past when it comes to who I’ve put my trust in, but as much as I’d like to say Kyle’s behavior was totally out of character, there’s a small part of me that wasn’t surprised. It’s not that I didn’t love him, but I also didn’t turn a blind eye to his faults.

He liked attention and being the best-looking man in the room. He suggested filler for the wrinkles I was getting and tried to convince me to have injections in my lips. None of that shit is me. And while none of it was malicious, it does make me question if, in the end, I wasn’t enough for him.

He didn’t like my tattoos or messy hair. He didn’t like when I went weeks without shaving. I’m sure there was a part of him that did love me, but to him, my faults were clearly more than he was prepared to deal with.

Beau’s seen me at my lowest. He knows I have sweet fuck all outside of an idea and motivation to make it happen, and yet somehow, we work. He’s a neurotic workaholic, and I’m a struggling divorcé, but when we’re together, we’re just … us.

Which is why I want to tell him how I feel.

I’m sure he knows. It’s not like I’ve been subtle about it. But to move forward with him, I need to put my past behind me.

I pick up dinner from a steak place on the way home, and I walk in to find Beau at his desk like he so often has been lately, hammering away at his computer. He must be finishing up because as soon as I enter the kitchen, he stops what he’s doing and swings around in the seat to face me. His glasses have slipped down so only half of his eyes are magnified, and his white T-shirt has the telltale markings of spilled coffee.

But when I look at him, I see a future I never could have thought was possible, especially not so soon.

I leave dinner on the counter and approach him.

“I bought you a little something.”

“What?” Beau eagerly reaches for the white paper bag I’m holding and pulls out the coloring books and new markers. I’ve wrapped a ribbon around them so they look almost fancy. But instead of the smile I’m expecting, he squints up at me. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to be my art project anymore?”

“Dammit, no. They’re a gift. A gift that I clearly messed up. I just know that you ran out, and when I’m at work, or once I move out, you’ll need something for the times I’m not around.”

“And … will there be a lot of those times?” he asks.

“I really hope not.”

His inhale is shaky. “Tell me more.”

“More … Okay, I think you’re cute and funny. I never know what I’m going to be walking into when I get home. And you make me laugh.”

“At me?”

“Of course.” I cut off his protest with a quick kiss. “You’re nonstop entertainment.”

“Ah, good, my life goals are complete.”

“Was one of your other goals being incredible at sucking dick? Because you’ve mastered that one too.”

“Well, now I can die happy.”

“So glad I could help make that happen.” I rest my forehead against his. “But seriously, Beau, you make it so easy to trust you, and I thought that would be the hardest thing to do moving forward.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Well then, in the spirit of trust …” He leans over for one of his desk drawers and reaches in to pull out … coloring books?

“Where did those come from?”

“Right after the first time you let me use your tats, these showed up. I hid them so I could keep up the excuse of not having any.”

My expression feels smug. “Couldn’t get enough, huh?”

“I don’t think I ever will.”

“Beau …”

“No pressure.” His expression is teasing. “You’re just an extremely irresistible hunk of flesh.”

“Kinda sounds like you’re objectifying me.”

“You say that like I don’t do it often.”

“And here I was thinking you were a nice guy.”

“I’ll show you how nice I am.” Beau immediately closes his hands behind my neck, and the kiss goes from sweet and innocent to scorching hot in a second flat. I wheel his chair closer and wind an arm behind his back, holding him against me. I love the feel of him in my arms and the way his glasses brush my face and his stubble scrapes my skin. The groan that rumbles in his chest is low and echoes the want I’m feeling.

I reach for his cock and find it hard, straining against his sweats. “So nice,” I breathe into his mouth. “I’m going to need a closer look.”

I sink onto my heels and yank his sweats down his thighs, revealing the cock I’m becoming addicted to.

“Oh … I could get used to this,” Beau says.

“Feel free to keep working if you need to.” I lean forward to tongue his slit. “I’ll just be here having fun.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and his hand lands on my head. “You think I can concentrate on anything when you’re on your knees? Fuck, I’ve only dreamed about this since high school.”

I don’t bother saying that I wish he’d mentioned it or let me know because he was right. Who knows what would have happened then? Right now is where we’re supposed to be, and I’ll go through the pain it took to get here if it means ending up with Beau.

I want to think long term and get ahead of what this is, but going from one long-term relationship to promising someone else another is too overwhelming to consider. I want to take it slow this time, to learn everything there is to know about Beau, to start small, and if we’re lucky, one day we’ll have the kind of life I always imagined with someone. No coming home to sit in front of the TV all night. No making plans with other people all weekend. No sitting on our phones before bed until we trade obligatory blow jobs once a week.

My marriage had gotten stale, and I’d never realized it.

Beau’s injected passion back into my life again.

I sink farther onto his cock, lapping at the tip and tightening the suction. His breathing is getting heavier, and it’s music to my ears—until the phone’s piercing ringtone cuts through the apartment.

“Fuck,” Beau says, scrambling to shut it off when he pauses. “It’s Trent.”

I pop off but replace my mouth with my hand. “Answer it.”

Beau’s teeth sink into his lip for a second before he takes the call. “Hey, how are you?”

I watch, straining my ears to try and hear the other side of the conversation, but Trent’s voice is too low to make out clearly. Beau’s making a lot of affirming sounds, but I can’t get a read on his face.

He reaches down to grab my hand that I didn’t realize had been absently stroking over his cock.

“Yeah, that sounds amazing. Of course we can.” His face explodes in a smile, and my gut flips as he gives me the thumbs-up.

“He said yes?” I whisper.

Beau hurries to nod.

I’m so happy, I lean forward and swallow his cock down my throat. The whole time Beau is talking to Trent, I give him the blow job of his life. I suck and slurp and drive him wild, all the while his “uh-huh”s and “yeah”s are getting more and more breathless. He’s trying so hard to hide it, death grip on my hair trying to hold me in place, but the pain only spurs me on. I tongue his sac, sucking each of his balls into my mouth before taking his cock again.

Beau’s awkward laugh fills the apartment as his grip twists my hair painfully. His legs lift on either side of my head, and I watch as he hurries to mute the sound right before he cries out and the first salty spurt hits my tongue.

I take every drop, loving the way he falls apart for me, and when he catches his breath, he clears his throat and takes the sound off mute.

“Yeah, that’s reasonable. We can meet you tomorrow afternoon?”

I rest my cheek on his thigh as his cock softens in my mouth, and his fingers ease up their grip. He strokes my hair, finishing the call, and when he hangs up, I release him from my mouth.

“I’m going to kill you,” he says, but the relaxed way he’s slumped in his chair takes the bite out of his words.

“What did he say?” Because even though the thumbs-up was good, I need to know for sure.

“They want to accept your offer.” Beau leans down to kiss me. “Congratulations. It’s all happening.”