The door clicked shut behind Maria, and I looked up from the couch. She had that smirk on her face, the one that always meant trouble. Behind her, a man ducked under the doorframe. He was tall—easily over six feet—with broad shoulders that strained the fabric of his fitted dark shirt. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and his eyes were sharp, appraising.

Maria: "This is Bigbob. I told you about him."

She hadn't told me much. Just that she'd met someone at the gym who could keep up with her. Now I understood why she'd been so cagey. He moved into the room with a slow, easy confidence, his gaze sweeping over me before landing on my face.

Bigbob: "So you're the famous roommate. Maria talks about you a lot."

His voice was low, rough. I felt a flutter in my stomach that I quickly suppressed. Maria draped herself over the armchair, watching us both with that teasing glint in her eyes.

Maria: "I thought we could all get to know each other. Properly."

The way she said it made my skin prickle. I knew that tone. She was up to something.

Bigbob sat down on the couch, not too close, but close enough that I could smell his cologne—something woody and masculine. He leaned back, one arm stretching across the back of the sofa, casual and possessive all at once.

Bigbob: "So, what do you do?"

His questions were simple, but his eyes weren't. They traveled down my body and back up, slow and deliberate. I answered, but I barely heard my own words. The air in the room had thickened, charged with something unspoken.

Maria stood up, walked over, and perched on the arm of the couch next to him. She ran a hand through her hair, then let it rest on his shoulder.

Maria: "I think we're going to have a very interesting night."