The low battery beep of Jodie’s wireless earbuds echoed in her head. Experience said she had about five minutes before the device died. I don’t need to charge them, her logic from that morning taunted her. They’ll last through a round of studying.

And they would have, if she’d finished cramming two hours ago, like she intended. She blew a stray lock of brown hair off her forehead. She’d never had this kind of trouble with focus and studying before. In high school, she breezed through most of her classes—especially science. Pre-grad in college? Sure, she had to make more time, but she retained what she learned.

She powered off her headphones and tossed them aside in frustration. Since she started the Master’s program at Stanford six months ago, her schoolwork curve spiked, and her ability to finish any of it in a reasonable time plummeted. She’d expected school to be more difficult, but not like this. What was wrong with her?

A giggle carried from the bedroom next door, almost-muffled by paper-thin walls, and blended into a loud moan of pleasure.

Noah’s flavor of the week. Her roommate was what was wrong with her. Both directly and indirectly.

His revolving-door dating policy and tendency toward women who were vocal in bed didn’t help Jodie’s focus any. Now seemed like a good time to grab her earplugs and get some sleep. She’d finish up in the morning, before class.

She stripped down to her T-shirt and panties and climbed into bed. When she was this exhausted, the moans from one room over were easier to shove into the background. Tonight her brain refused to shut up. It bounced from chemistry to human biology to her plans for spring break to—

"Oh God, Noah. Fuck me harder."

"I love your filthy mouth, doll."

—maybe it was time to find a new roommate.

She didn't care that Noah was having sex or who it was with, though once upon a time she'd wished it was her. Careful what you wish for. She simply wanted him to mean it a single time when he promised next time I'll keep it down.

Her stepbrother, Logan, had offered to hook her up with a room when she moved out here. At the time, she questioned his generosity. The asshole who made her life hell in high school was going to do something nice for her and not request anything in return?

Then he introduced her to Noah—gorgeous, smooth-talking Noah.

“Your pussy’s so tight.”

Dirty-talking Noah.

She’d entertained a wide array of fantasies where she moved in—sexy teasing and flirting would ensue with Noah, and they’d fall for each other. The first two happened. So did that one night of okay sex. Nothing like what the moans coming from his room indicated, but it wasn’t bad.

Then, six weeks later, she realized she’d missed her period. That might have been an awkward conversation if Noah stuck around longer than it took to say, “Let me know how much the abortion is, and I’ll get you the money.”

She was keeping the baby, though she hadn’t figured out how to tell anyone. She couldn’t hide from Noah much longer that she intended to go through with this, but moving out without saying anything was tempting.

“You’re gonna make me come again.” The voice carried into Jodie’s room unfiltered. Yeah… Noah wasn’t worth that kind of noise.

She rolled onto her side and tried to block out the cries of ecstasy. They’d already slid under her skin. With each grunt or groan, heat danced along her nerve endings, sparking with the thrum of her pulse. Her lack of interest in being the woman in his bed didn’t stop her from indulging a different fantasy.

Lying in bed when a faceless man knocked on her door. Asked if she was still awake. She’d say yes and sit up, keeping the blanket over her legs more as a show of modesty than a sincere attempt.

In her imagination, her unnamed lover didn’t move into view, and she didn’t turn. He brushed aside her hair and traced his lips along the back of her neck. “Mind keeping me company for the night?” His words vibrated against her skin.

“I’d love to.”

He glided his hands under her top and up her stomach, to cup her breasts. In real life, she mirrored the movement. When she dragged a thumb over her nipple, a gasp tore from her throat. She’d always been sensitive, but with the shift in hormones, the lightest touch zinged through her body. She bit the inside of her cheek, to keep quiet, but the other sounds in the apartment continued uninterrupted.

Jodie pinched and tugged the swollen nubs on her chest, swallowing her moans. She squeezed her legs together, as the throb between them increased, and kept her hands above her waist, stretching the moment out. Teasing herself until dampness pooled between her legs and she couldn’t resist the pleading for release.

“Lie down.” Fantasy-man kissed along the edge of her ear and tugged on her shoulders.

She trailed a path back down over her navel and to lace of her panties. Her fingers were coated instantly as she dipped between her folds. Her imaginary lover moved into view. Brown eyes so dark they were almost black held her gaze. Hair the same color and a scruff of two days’ worth of beard framed sharp features. Logan knelt between her legs. She was bothered the first few times her imagination stuck him in positions like this, but she was tired of fighting it. Here, he wasn’t off-limits.

When fantasy-Logan nipped at her bottom lip, then crushed his mouth to hers, her heart hammered against her ribs, and she couldn’t hold back her groan.

He stripped off her panties and dragged the head of his cock along her slit. She copied the gesture, zeroing in on her aching clit. She traced circles around her sex, thrusting her hips in time with the attention.

When her daydream nudged her opening, she moved her other hand down and slid two fingers inside her. Imagination blended with reality. She ground against her palm, rubbing faster and harder as orgasm built. Logan pounded, hitting the right angle with each thrust. She arched her back. Her head spun with a light, floaty feeling.

She bit the tip of her tongue when she came, barely having the presence of mind to keep the volume down.

Jodie collapsed back on the mattress, clinging to the feathers of pleasure as they flitted along her body.

The noise from the other room had faded at some point. It didn’t matter. With the light, floaty feeling inside, she wouldn’t have cared if Noah was blaring music and had fifty people in his room.

As she drifted on the edge of sleep, fantasy-Logan curled up behind her in bed and draped an arm over her waist. Part of her mind protested. This was taking not-reality too far.

She was too tired to care.