Dear Rosie,: Love Letters Book Two, page 10
Nathan sets his empty glass down next to the empty pitcher. “Rosie.”
I swallow down the rest of my courage, then set my empty glass next to his. “Yes, Nathan?”
His nostrils flare like he’s holding himself back from something. “I’m going to order a ride home.” His eyes drop to my mouth. “Will you come with me?”
I let my own gaze lower to his mouth. “Yes, Nathan.”
His lips twist up on the side, and a low sound comes out of his throat.
I expect him to say something more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits up straight and pulls his phone out of his pocket.
This is going to be the best worst idea of my life.
And as I slide off the chair, I promise myself I’ll make the most of it.
Then I’ll move on.
FIFTY-TWO
NATE
Rosie sways as she stands, and I reach out to grip her upper arm.
“Easy, Beautiful.”
Her skin is so soft and warm under my touch that I can’t help but rub my thumb up and down.
Pretty cheeks turn pink before me.
“You okay?” I ask.
Rosie nods and lets out one of her genuine smiles.
I catch it in my mind, tucking it into my pocket for later. For one of those times when that sadness shines from behind her eyes. I can’t explain why, but every time I see that darker emotion lurking behind her gaze, I feel responsible for it. And I feel like my new obsession is going to be making Rosie smile.
She reaches out and rests her fingertips against my chest. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. I can meet you out front.”
I shake my head and slide my grip down her arm until I’m holding her hand. “I’ll walk with you and meet you outside the bathroom door.”
She looks like she might argue, but Rosie just dips her chin in acceptance.
Gripping her fingers in one hand, I use the other to order a ride home.
We split ways when we reach her door, and I step into the men’s room.
My vision is slightly unsteady, and as I stare at the bathroom wall, I admit I got a little drunker than I intended. But Rosie seems to be in about the same position, and we’ve fooled around before, so I think it’s okay to bring her home.
I’m bringing Rosie home.
I remember so much now.
Washing my hands, I remember feeling so fucking sad as the weeks went by and I didn’t hear from her.
Remember the evenings sitting in my room, looking out the window to our new backyard that backed up to another backyard.
The lack of forest.
The lack of Rosie.
I remember missing her.
And then I grew up. And I forgot.
I forgot all about Rosie. Until she moaned my name in Maddox’s pantry.
And now that I remember it all, I want to know even more.
Our conversation tonight was a good start. But it was just a start.
I exit and lean against the hallway, waiting for my girl.
And when the door opens, I hold out my hand, and she takes it.
FIFTY-THREE
ROSALYN
Nathan holds my hand tightly as he guides us through the crowd to the front door.
I feel overheated.
Overstimulated.
Someone looking down walks right toward us, and Nathan reaches out with his free hand to grip the guy by the front of his shirt.
The man looks up, his face instantly hardening at being manhandled.
“Watch it,” Nathan snaps. “You almost ran over my girl.”
I don’t know if it’s Nathan’s tone or size, but the other man puts his hands up and apologizes.
Nathan lets him go and tugs me forward.
As we pass the man, I bite my lip and keep my gaze on Nathan’s back. It feels very inappropriate to smile over the incident, so I do my best not to.
A few steps later, we’re stepping out into the night.
The sidewalk is mostly quiet, and I take a deep breath.
Being in the bar together was safe.
We may have kissed, a few times, but it had to stop there.
Now we’re heading to Nathan’s house, and there will be nothing to stop us.
Which is the point.
But even though I want this, I feel like I might hyperventilate.
Nathan pulls his phone out again, only glancing at the screen before sliding it back into his pocket. “This is us,” he says as a black SUV pulls to the curb right in front of us.
I follow him to the rear passenger door. “Is this your driver?”
Nathan grins down at me. “It’s an Uber.” Then he opens the door for me.
I mouth the word oh then climb in.
Last night, after the whole eight-thousand-dollar tip thing, I did an internet search for Nate Waller’s net worth.
It’s rude, I know, but I needed to make myself feel okay about keeping the tip, even though I’d already transferred half of it to Presley.
I didn’t actually get an answer for his net worth. I just saw the dollar amount of his last contract. It was over thirty million. For one year.
That was all I needed to see because I can’t even conceptualize that amount of money. Let alone a dozen years of playing and making money like that.
Presley has yet to see the new deposit in her account, but when she undoubtedly tries to give it back, I’ll mention all those zeros to her. That should make her keep it. Along with the fact that she’s more than earned it.
The opposite rear door opens, and Nathan climbs into the seat next to me.
Other than wanting to feel less guilty about the tip, I don’t care how much money Nathan has. His richness doesn’t affect me. But there’s something about knowing he’s super rich but still takes an Uber like everyone else that makes me smile. Even if it is one of the big fancy Ubers.
He catches me smiling. “What’s that look for?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“The BCH building?” The driver looks back at us through the rearview mirror.
“That’s the one,” Nathan replies.
The driver nods, then pulls away from the curb.
Nathan slides closer to me on the bench seat.
He twists and reaches for me, and I close my eyes, expecting a kiss.
Then I hear the sound of nylon against plastic.
I open my eyes as Nathan pulls the seat belt across my body.
He uses one hand to hold the belt away from my body, but when metal meets metal and he clips the buckle in, he lowers the strap, and his fingers graze my chest.
“Safety first.” His voice is quiet, and I have to focus on holding his gaze.
My eyes want to drop to his lap.
I want to look for the bulge of what I know is hidden beneath his pants. Because when he said safety, I thought condom.
And I’ll blame my recklessness on the booze because I don’t want him to wear one.
I don’t want to put safety first. I’m already on the pill. And if we’re going to have our night together, I don’t want to have anything between us.
I lose the fight, and my gaze drops.
Nathan makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “Dirty girl.” He says it like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Then he slides back across the seat and buckles himself in.
I reach up and aim the air vent in the ceiling toward my face.
Nathan chuckles, but then he does the same thing.
FIFTY-FOUR
NATE
I watch the screen of the driver’s phone that’s mounted to the dashboard.
Seven minutes.
Five minutes.
Four.
Rosie is silent next to me, watching the city pass through her window as we head into downtown St. Paul.
Three minutes until I have Rosie in my building.
Two.
The way she looked at me when I said safety…
The way her eyes dropped down to my lap…
I’m thinking the same thing you are, Rosie Baby.
I want to take you raw.
One minute.
And I’m a man who gets what he wants.
The vehicle slows.
And my wait is up.
FIFTY-FIVE
ROSALYN
The vehicle stops, and my breath catches.
We’re here.
And I’m really doing this.
As Nathan thanks the driver, I slip out my door and gulp down air.
When I hear footsteps nearing from around the back of the SUV, I slowly exhale, trying to appear calm.
Nathan appears, and he stops before me.
He holds out his hand. “Ready?”
I slip my palm into his. “Ready.”
Nathan squeezes my fingers, then starts across the sidewalk to the massive building before us.
As we step through the front doors into the moodily lit lobby, Nathan reaches up and tugs his hood off.
His hair is messy, and it makes me want to touch it. Makes me want to brush it behind his ears again.
“Evening.” A man behind a desk off to the side greets us.
I smile at him as Nathan greets him back.
I take in the man’s black polo shirt with Security embroidered across one side of his chest.
“Fancy,” I whisper to Nathan as we stop at the elevator bank.
He makes a sound of amusement while he presses the Up button. “It’s a bit much, but it’s close to my work.” The elevator doors slide open. “And I like the view.”
We step inside.
Nathan selects number thirty-three. The highest floor.
Nerves dance up my spine.
That’s high.
The doors slide shut, sealing us inside.
My hand is still in Nathan’s, and he tightens his grip.
“Rosie,” he says quietly, and I look up at him. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
My mouth opens, but he flexes his hand around mine again, and I realize my fingers are trembling.
“That’s not—” I stop and force myself to calm down. “I want to. I’m just… heights freak me out a little.” I glance away, then back up at Nathan. “And… it’s been a while. Since…”
Nathan’s chest expands as he turns to face me. “It’s been a while since what, Rosie?”
I focus my gaze on his chest. Like a coward. “Since I’ve been with a man.”
He steps closer, his body nearly touching mine. “How long?”
I step back on instinct, bumping into the wall. “Years,” I admit quietly. “It’s been years.”
Six years, to be exact, but embarrassment is already lighting up my cheeks, so I don’t tell him the specifics.
I flick my eyes up to meet Nathan’s.
But he doesn’t look amused or surprised like I expected.
No. He looks hungry.
Nathan steps into me. Pressing himself against me.
Pressing his hardness into my body.
“Fuck,” he groans and releases my hand. Warm palms cup my face, and he tips my head back. “How many years, Rosie? How many years has it been since a man stuffed himself inside you?”
I open my mouth to pull in air.
No one has ever talked to me like this. And as much as I didn’t want to tell him, I can’t resist.
I can’t say no to Nathan Waller.
“Six.”
His lids slide closed, and he leans into me more. “Six years.”
Lust pools low in my belly at his tone, and I arch into him.
Something grows against me.
He’s getting harder.
He slides his hands down to the sides of my neck, his thumbs meeting at the front of my throat, his fingers overlapping in the back. “I’m gonna stretch you out, Little Rose. Your poor neglected pussy is gonna be so sore tomorrow.”
My knees sway, and I reach up, gripping his forearms.
The elevator doors slide open.
The fingers around my neck tighten the smallest amount as Nathan rocks his hips into me.
We both groan.
I dig my nails into his forearm.
I might have been nervous when we got into the elevator, but this man’s filthy words pushed all the worry aside.
Now all I feel is need.
FIFTY-SIX
NATE
I drag my hands down from Rosie’s neck, sliding my palms over her breasts, before gripping her elbow and pulling her out of the elevator.
The two yards from here to my door feel like a mile.
I unlock it quickly and shove it open, and Rosie follows me inside.
The door slams shut behind us, and I’m tempted to tear her clothes from her body and fuck her right here.
Six years.
The caveman part of my brain shouts that it should be thirty-three years. That she should have waited for me.
But I’ll take six.
I keep hold of Rosie’s arm as we kick off our shoes and she drops her purse to the floor.
A loud meow breaks through the silence of the condo, and Rosie startles next to me.
“My roommate, Charles,” I explain as the oversized furball stands on the kitchen island, yelling at me for being out late.
“He’s so cute.”
“And he knows it.” I start across the large great room, bringing Rosie with me. “I’ll introduce you later.”
She lifts her free arm and gives my cat a wave as we pass him. And fuck if that doesn’t make me like her even more.
We haven’t even kissed since the bar, but all I can hear is our labored breathing as I rush us through the dining space, into the hall, past my office, past the workout room and laundry room, past the guest room, past bathrooms.
I don’t stop.
I don’t give her a tour or tell her where anything is.
I just bring Rosie straight to my bedroom.
FIFTY-SEVEN
ROSALYN
My head swivels as we go.
The condo, or penthouse, or whatever this massive apartment is, has a few lights on, but most of the light comes through the wall of windows that runs the entire length of Nathan’s home. He was right about the view, and the ambient city light is enough to see by.
I want to explore.
I want to see how he lives.
I want to meet his cat.
But I want him more.
Want to feel his hands on me more than anything.
Nathan steps through a doorway, pulling me into his bedroom.
It’s made up of neutrals. Tans and greens and real wood furniture.
It’s calming and classy and so Nathan that it makes my heart ache.
The door slams behind us, followed a second later by another loud meow.
“He’ll watch if I let him in.”
It takes me a second to understand his meaning.
He’s talking about the cat.
But I don’t have time to laugh because Nathan is here.
In front of me.
Facing me.
And his eyes are filled with fire.
“I want you naked, Rosie.” He reaches for the button of my pants. “I want every stitch of clothing off you.”
The bedroom has the same dim light filtering through the windows as the rest of the home, so I swallow down my insecurities and grip the hem of my shirt.
I pull it up and over my head while Nathan unzips my pants.
He pushes them down over the swell of my hips, and they drop to the floor, pooling around my feet.
In my bra and thong, I reach for Nathan. “I want to see you too.”
He’s staring at my chest.
“Nathan—”
He grips my hips for balance, then lowers himself to his knees.
He grunts, and I don’t know if it’s from kneeling on the hardwood floors or from the way his jeans are bulging, which can’t be comfortable.
“I don’t know where to start,” he murmurs.
But he lied, because a heartbeat later, he has his face pressed into my cleavage.
His lips open, and I feel his hot mouth on my skin.
The hands on my hips apply pressure as they move up my sides and around to my back.
Expert fingers undo my bra, and he yanks the material off my body.
And then warm lips close around one of my nipples.
His groan vibrates through my body, and I grip his hair to steady myself.
Then he sucks. Hard.
And wetness coats the inside of my panties.
His big hands move everywhere.
Pinching my other nipple.
Cupping my breasts.
Squeezing my ass.
It’s all so much.
Those six years might as well be a lifetime, because no one has ever touched me like this.
No one has ever touched me like they might die if they don’t touch all of me.
Fingers curl around the band of my thong and start to tug it down.
I shift, helping him get them off, and I know the moment he sees the evidence of my arousal.
“Jesus, you’re fucking perfect,” Nathan growls as he applies pressure to my ankle.
I lift my foot, letting the pant leg and thong slip free.
Then I repeat the process until I’m standing completely naked in front of a kneeling Nathan.
He leans back onto his heels with my damp panties balled in his fist. “Red fucking curls,” he groans.
I squeeze my thighs together.
I hadn’t thought to worry about my shaving status, but it sounds like he approves.
He moves his eyes up to meet mine. “Are you on birth control?”
I wet my lips and nod.
I can’t form words. Not while Nathan brings my thong up to his face and inhales.
His eyes shut, and he moans.
“You’re turning me into a fucking freak, Rosie.” He shoves the garment into his pocket and opens his eyes. “And I don’t even care.”
My mouth is open.
He just sniffed my underwear.
And… and Christ, why was that so fucking hot?
I swallow down the rest of my courage, then set my empty glass next to his. “Yes, Nathan?”
His nostrils flare like he’s holding himself back from something. “I’m going to order a ride home.” His eyes drop to my mouth. “Will you come with me?”
I let my own gaze lower to his mouth. “Yes, Nathan.”
His lips twist up on the side, and a low sound comes out of his throat.
I expect him to say something more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits up straight and pulls his phone out of his pocket.
This is going to be the best worst idea of my life.
And as I slide off the chair, I promise myself I’ll make the most of it.
Then I’ll move on.
FIFTY-TWO
NATE
Rosie sways as she stands, and I reach out to grip her upper arm.
“Easy, Beautiful.”
Her skin is so soft and warm under my touch that I can’t help but rub my thumb up and down.
Pretty cheeks turn pink before me.
“You okay?” I ask.
Rosie nods and lets out one of her genuine smiles.
I catch it in my mind, tucking it into my pocket for later. For one of those times when that sadness shines from behind her eyes. I can’t explain why, but every time I see that darker emotion lurking behind her gaze, I feel responsible for it. And I feel like my new obsession is going to be making Rosie smile.
She reaches out and rests her fingertips against my chest. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. I can meet you out front.”
I shake my head and slide my grip down her arm until I’m holding her hand. “I’ll walk with you and meet you outside the bathroom door.”
She looks like she might argue, but Rosie just dips her chin in acceptance.
Gripping her fingers in one hand, I use the other to order a ride home.
We split ways when we reach her door, and I step into the men’s room.
My vision is slightly unsteady, and as I stare at the bathroom wall, I admit I got a little drunker than I intended. But Rosie seems to be in about the same position, and we’ve fooled around before, so I think it’s okay to bring her home.
I’m bringing Rosie home.
I remember so much now.
Washing my hands, I remember feeling so fucking sad as the weeks went by and I didn’t hear from her.
Remember the evenings sitting in my room, looking out the window to our new backyard that backed up to another backyard.
The lack of forest.
The lack of Rosie.
I remember missing her.
And then I grew up. And I forgot.
I forgot all about Rosie. Until she moaned my name in Maddox’s pantry.
And now that I remember it all, I want to know even more.
Our conversation tonight was a good start. But it was just a start.
I exit and lean against the hallway, waiting for my girl.
And when the door opens, I hold out my hand, and she takes it.
FIFTY-THREE
ROSALYN
Nathan holds my hand tightly as he guides us through the crowd to the front door.
I feel overheated.
Overstimulated.
Someone looking down walks right toward us, and Nathan reaches out with his free hand to grip the guy by the front of his shirt.
The man looks up, his face instantly hardening at being manhandled.
“Watch it,” Nathan snaps. “You almost ran over my girl.”
I don’t know if it’s Nathan’s tone or size, but the other man puts his hands up and apologizes.
Nathan lets him go and tugs me forward.
As we pass the man, I bite my lip and keep my gaze on Nathan’s back. It feels very inappropriate to smile over the incident, so I do my best not to.
A few steps later, we’re stepping out into the night.
The sidewalk is mostly quiet, and I take a deep breath.
Being in the bar together was safe.
We may have kissed, a few times, but it had to stop there.
Now we’re heading to Nathan’s house, and there will be nothing to stop us.
Which is the point.
But even though I want this, I feel like I might hyperventilate.
Nathan pulls his phone out again, only glancing at the screen before sliding it back into his pocket. “This is us,” he says as a black SUV pulls to the curb right in front of us.
I follow him to the rear passenger door. “Is this your driver?”
Nathan grins down at me. “It’s an Uber.” Then he opens the door for me.
I mouth the word oh then climb in.
Last night, after the whole eight-thousand-dollar tip thing, I did an internet search for Nate Waller’s net worth.
It’s rude, I know, but I needed to make myself feel okay about keeping the tip, even though I’d already transferred half of it to Presley.
I didn’t actually get an answer for his net worth. I just saw the dollar amount of his last contract. It was over thirty million. For one year.
That was all I needed to see because I can’t even conceptualize that amount of money. Let alone a dozen years of playing and making money like that.
Presley has yet to see the new deposit in her account, but when she undoubtedly tries to give it back, I’ll mention all those zeros to her. That should make her keep it. Along with the fact that she’s more than earned it.
The opposite rear door opens, and Nathan climbs into the seat next to me.
Other than wanting to feel less guilty about the tip, I don’t care how much money Nathan has. His richness doesn’t affect me. But there’s something about knowing he’s super rich but still takes an Uber like everyone else that makes me smile. Even if it is one of the big fancy Ubers.
He catches me smiling. “What’s that look for?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“The BCH building?” The driver looks back at us through the rearview mirror.
“That’s the one,” Nathan replies.
The driver nods, then pulls away from the curb.
Nathan slides closer to me on the bench seat.
He twists and reaches for me, and I close my eyes, expecting a kiss.
Then I hear the sound of nylon against plastic.
I open my eyes as Nathan pulls the seat belt across my body.
He uses one hand to hold the belt away from my body, but when metal meets metal and he clips the buckle in, he lowers the strap, and his fingers graze my chest.
“Safety first.” His voice is quiet, and I have to focus on holding his gaze.
My eyes want to drop to his lap.
I want to look for the bulge of what I know is hidden beneath his pants. Because when he said safety, I thought condom.
And I’ll blame my recklessness on the booze because I don’t want him to wear one.
I don’t want to put safety first. I’m already on the pill. And if we’re going to have our night together, I don’t want to have anything between us.
I lose the fight, and my gaze drops.
Nathan makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “Dirty girl.” He says it like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Then he slides back across the seat and buckles himself in.
I reach up and aim the air vent in the ceiling toward my face.
Nathan chuckles, but then he does the same thing.
FIFTY-FOUR
NATE
I watch the screen of the driver’s phone that’s mounted to the dashboard.
Seven minutes.
Five minutes.
Four.
Rosie is silent next to me, watching the city pass through her window as we head into downtown St. Paul.
Three minutes until I have Rosie in my building.
Two.
The way she looked at me when I said safety…
The way her eyes dropped down to my lap…
I’m thinking the same thing you are, Rosie Baby.
I want to take you raw.
One minute.
And I’m a man who gets what he wants.
The vehicle slows.
And my wait is up.
FIFTY-FIVE
ROSALYN
The vehicle stops, and my breath catches.
We’re here.
And I’m really doing this.
As Nathan thanks the driver, I slip out my door and gulp down air.
When I hear footsteps nearing from around the back of the SUV, I slowly exhale, trying to appear calm.
Nathan appears, and he stops before me.
He holds out his hand. “Ready?”
I slip my palm into his. “Ready.”
Nathan squeezes my fingers, then starts across the sidewalk to the massive building before us.
As we step through the front doors into the moodily lit lobby, Nathan reaches up and tugs his hood off.
His hair is messy, and it makes me want to touch it. Makes me want to brush it behind his ears again.
“Evening.” A man behind a desk off to the side greets us.
I smile at him as Nathan greets him back.
I take in the man’s black polo shirt with Security embroidered across one side of his chest.
“Fancy,” I whisper to Nathan as we stop at the elevator bank.
He makes a sound of amusement while he presses the Up button. “It’s a bit much, but it’s close to my work.” The elevator doors slide open. “And I like the view.”
We step inside.
Nathan selects number thirty-three. The highest floor.
Nerves dance up my spine.
That’s high.
The doors slide shut, sealing us inside.
My hand is still in Nathan’s, and he tightens his grip.
“Rosie,” he says quietly, and I look up at him. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
My mouth opens, but he flexes his hand around mine again, and I realize my fingers are trembling.
“That’s not—” I stop and force myself to calm down. “I want to. I’m just… heights freak me out a little.” I glance away, then back up at Nathan. “And… it’s been a while. Since…”
Nathan’s chest expands as he turns to face me. “It’s been a while since what, Rosie?”
I focus my gaze on his chest. Like a coward. “Since I’ve been with a man.”
He steps closer, his body nearly touching mine. “How long?”
I step back on instinct, bumping into the wall. “Years,” I admit quietly. “It’s been years.”
Six years, to be exact, but embarrassment is already lighting up my cheeks, so I don’t tell him the specifics.
I flick my eyes up to meet Nathan’s.
But he doesn’t look amused or surprised like I expected.
No. He looks hungry.
Nathan steps into me. Pressing himself against me.
Pressing his hardness into my body.
“Fuck,” he groans and releases my hand. Warm palms cup my face, and he tips my head back. “How many years, Rosie? How many years has it been since a man stuffed himself inside you?”
I open my mouth to pull in air.
No one has ever talked to me like this. And as much as I didn’t want to tell him, I can’t resist.
I can’t say no to Nathan Waller.
“Six.”
His lids slide closed, and he leans into me more. “Six years.”
Lust pools low in my belly at his tone, and I arch into him.
Something grows against me.
He’s getting harder.
He slides his hands down to the sides of my neck, his thumbs meeting at the front of my throat, his fingers overlapping in the back. “I’m gonna stretch you out, Little Rose. Your poor neglected pussy is gonna be so sore tomorrow.”
My knees sway, and I reach up, gripping his forearms.
The elevator doors slide open.
The fingers around my neck tighten the smallest amount as Nathan rocks his hips into me.
We both groan.
I dig my nails into his forearm.
I might have been nervous when we got into the elevator, but this man’s filthy words pushed all the worry aside.
Now all I feel is need.
FIFTY-SIX
NATE
I drag my hands down from Rosie’s neck, sliding my palms over her breasts, before gripping her elbow and pulling her out of the elevator.
The two yards from here to my door feel like a mile.
I unlock it quickly and shove it open, and Rosie follows me inside.
The door slams shut behind us, and I’m tempted to tear her clothes from her body and fuck her right here.
Six years.
The caveman part of my brain shouts that it should be thirty-three years. That she should have waited for me.
But I’ll take six.
I keep hold of Rosie’s arm as we kick off our shoes and she drops her purse to the floor.
A loud meow breaks through the silence of the condo, and Rosie startles next to me.
“My roommate, Charles,” I explain as the oversized furball stands on the kitchen island, yelling at me for being out late.
“He’s so cute.”
“And he knows it.” I start across the large great room, bringing Rosie with me. “I’ll introduce you later.”
She lifts her free arm and gives my cat a wave as we pass him. And fuck if that doesn’t make me like her even more.
We haven’t even kissed since the bar, but all I can hear is our labored breathing as I rush us through the dining space, into the hall, past my office, past the workout room and laundry room, past the guest room, past bathrooms.
I don’t stop.
I don’t give her a tour or tell her where anything is.
I just bring Rosie straight to my bedroom.
FIFTY-SEVEN
ROSALYN
My head swivels as we go.
The condo, or penthouse, or whatever this massive apartment is, has a few lights on, but most of the light comes through the wall of windows that runs the entire length of Nathan’s home. He was right about the view, and the ambient city light is enough to see by.
I want to explore.
I want to see how he lives.
I want to meet his cat.
But I want him more.
Want to feel his hands on me more than anything.
Nathan steps through a doorway, pulling me into his bedroom.
It’s made up of neutrals. Tans and greens and real wood furniture.
It’s calming and classy and so Nathan that it makes my heart ache.
The door slams behind us, followed a second later by another loud meow.
“He’ll watch if I let him in.”
It takes me a second to understand his meaning.
He’s talking about the cat.
But I don’t have time to laugh because Nathan is here.
In front of me.
Facing me.
And his eyes are filled with fire.
“I want you naked, Rosie.” He reaches for the button of my pants. “I want every stitch of clothing off you.”
The bedroom has the same dim light filtering through the windows as the rest of the home, so I swallow down my insecurities and grip the hem of my shirt.
I pull it up and over my head while Nathan unzips my pants.
He pushes them down over the swell of my hips, and they drop to the floor, pooling around my feet.
In my bra and thong, I reach for Nathan. “I want to see you too.”
He’s staring at my chest.
“Nathan—”
He grips my hips for balance, then lowers himself to his knees.
He grunts, and I don’t know if it’s from kneeling on the hardwood floors or from the way his jeans are bulging, which can’t be comfortable.
“I don’t know where to start,” he murmurs.
But he lied, because a heartbeat later, he has his face pressed into my cleavage.
His lips open, and I feel his hot mouth on my skin.
The hands on my hips apply pressure as they move up my sides and around to my back.
Expert fingers undo my bra, and he yanks the material off my body.
And then warm lips close around one of my nipples.
His groan vibrates through my body, and I grip his hair to steady myself.
Then he sucks. Hard.
And wetness coats the inside of my panties.
His big hands move everywhere.
Pinching my other nipple.
Cupping my breasts.
Squeezing my ass.
It’s all so much.
Those six years might as well be a lifetime, because no one has ever touched me like this.
No one has ever touched me like they might die if they don’t touch all of me.
Fingers curl around the band of my thong and start to tug it down.
I shift, helping him get them off, and I know the moment he sees the evidence of my arousal.
“Jesus, you’re fucking perfect,” Nathan growls as he applies pressure to my ankle.
I lift my foot, letting the pant leg and thong slip free.
Then I repeat the process until I’m standing completely naked in front of a kneeling Nathan.
He leans back onto his heels with my damp panties balled in his fist. “Red fucking curls,” he groans.
I squeeze my thighs together.
I hadn’t thought to worry about my shaving status, but it sounds like he approves.
He moves his eyes up to meet mine. “Are you on birth control?”
I wet my lips and nod.
I can’t form words. Not while Nathan brings my thong up to his face and inhales.
His eyes shut, and he moans.
“You’re turning me into a fucking freak, Rosie.” He shoves the garment into his pocket and opens his eyes. “And I don’t even care.”
My mouth is open.
He just sniffed my underwear.
And… and Christ, why was that so fucking hot?
