The Drummer's Roommate

Chapter 1

"Unbelievably attractive male seeking roommate. Must be able to tolerate loud drumming and even louder sex. Serious inquiries only."

Thea blinked several times after reading the online advertisement glowing on her phone.

She was supposed to live with the cocky, arrogant man who wrote that ad? Just because she was desperate to find a cheap place to stay in L.A. as soon as possible?

She looked up from her phone and quirked a single dark eyebrow at her closest friend, Mallory. Slowly picking up her large cappuccino cup—trying to exude the calm energy of a confident mob boss and not a woman who lost her job, boyfriend, and place of residence within days of each other—Thea took a long sip, licking foam from her lips.

After placing the cup back onto a table at their favorite local coffee shop, Thea signed, "Who do you take me for?"

She would not move in with drummer and playboy Draven Maxwell, no matter how desperate she was for a place to stay with cheap rent.

"Look," Mallory signed, "I know he's a bit of a manwhore, but you're not going to find a cheaper apartment to rent. He cut the original rent to a third of what others cost."

"Because he can't keep a roommate," Thea signed back with an expression screaming, "Duh."

"Only because of the loud drumming, which wouldn't be a problem for you," Mallory stressed. "He is not that bad."

Thea's eyebrow somehow curved even higher on her forehead in disbelief. Yes, Mallory dated one of Draven's rock star friends and had been around him in more social settings than Thea, but Thea knew Draven.

Maybe she'd never conversed with him, but she knew his type.

The man was the living embodiment of sex. The dirty kind. The taboo kind that involved handcuffs and his thick fingers cupping her throat as he thrust—

Thea! She shook herself.

The first time she saw the drummer at one of the band's gigs, Thea had stared, swallowed the sudden dryness in her mouth, and broken eye contact. Before or after the eye contact, she may or may not have squirmed, fidgeted, and pressed her thighs tightly together when they threatened to spread themselves for the man.

But after her body's tactless reactions, she recognized him for what he was: a self-centered, selfish player who never slept with the same woman twice.

But the one thing Thea hated the most? Draven Maxwell believed he was better than everyone else. Hell, he described himself in the ad for a roommate as an "unbelievably attractive male." Was he honest? Sure.

But would it kill a muscular white man with perfect bone structure to have a little modesty? Damn.

"I hardly know him, and I already dislike him," Thea signed to Mallory. "If I move in, he will expect me to cook, clean, and do his laundry. I know it."

To Thea, Draven was the kind of man who grew up having other people do all of his work for him in group projects in school. Meanwhile, Thea worked harder than anyone. The word "overachiever" did not scratch the surface when describing her.

When you are underestimated, you want to be better than everyone in the room. And she had been.

What hard work had Draven ever had to do? Movie star—or more like porn star—good looks. A charming and addicting charisma.

Perfect teeth—had he ever needed braces? Thea had worn braces for six years throughout middle school and high school. He has probably been allowed to eat popcorn his entire life, yet, his teeth are perfect and white.