“So,friend,” Jackson says as he opens the car door for me. “That was nice.”
I roll my eyes but I can’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. Yeah, it was really nice.
14
JACKSON
“My hero,”Rosie teases as I pass her a huge bowl of chocolate covered raisins and peanuts. Since the day I found out how much Rosie loves watching her dancing show, and after meeting Betty, I’ve been over her flat more days than I’ve been in my hotel. Granted, some of those days I’ve been on back-to-back shoots, working late into the night or early in the morning, but every spare second I have I want to spend it with her.
“I don’t know how you eat that.” I shudder as I lift her sock clad feet and take my place underneath them. She’s wearing the hoodie I left a few weeks back that she insists is more comfy than hers, her glasses perched on her nose and the bowl cradled in her arms happily.
“Sweet, salty and fruity,” she moans happily and I pretend my dick doesn’t perk up at the noise. Covered head to toe, in a jumper that still has what I expect to be toothpaste stains from yesterday and munching on the worst concoction of food I’ve ever heard in my life, and she’s still the most fuckable woman I’ve ever met.
“Besides, it’s your child that’s craving it, not me,” she says as she shovels in a mouthful with her fingers.
“My child will never eat a raisin in her life.”
Rosie rolls her eyes. “Theycan eat whatever they like as long as it’s healthy. Anyway, these are chocolate.”
I lean back into the arm of the couch, my arm stretching across the back, tugging on her ear gently. “If you say so.”
“Oh, it’s starting.” She shushes me as if I hadn’t stopped speaking before tilting her head to the TV. The familiar trumpets of my new guilty pleasure blare on the screen, and I hide my smile behind my hand as she mimics the music. If I told any of my guy friends that my ideal Saturday night is now watching a group of amateur dancers and criticizing their technique, they’d never invite me out again.
The first couple comes on with a slow American Smooth. I groan. “These dances are so boring, when are they going to start throwing each other around?”
Rosie shushes me. “It’s technical, so they’ve got to keep their form and take it slowly. He’s doing really well.”
“Look at his arm, his elbow’s practically by his hip,” I say, taking a handful of her chocolate-raisin-peanut monstrosity. “Terrible form.”
A few minutes later as all the judges agree with me, I turn to Rosie with a smug brow. “Told you.”
She laughs as she sets the bowl on the side table before readjusting and placing her hands on the small curve of her belly. The bump is still small, but Rosie insists she’s rapidly becoming the size of a house.
My eyes drop and my hands follow hers, bracketing her dainty hands with my huge ones. It still blows my mind that there’s a person in there, a bit of me and a bit of her, growing toes and fingernails.
“I thought I felt a kick earlier,” Rosie says quietly, as she tugs my hands to the side, attempting to get the baby’s attention. “But I’m not sure.”
“She’s going to be a rugby player,” I say.
“She can pick that up after she’s exited my body, thank you.” She glances up with a gasp. “Oh yes, Kat is on.”
I sit back reluctantly, returning my hand to her foot and gently pressing on the arches of her feet in the way I know she likes.
The lights on the screen dim as the woman appears from the shadow at the back of the stage. The haunting strings of a violin rise in tempo as her partner appears from behind her. The woman jumps as his arms curl around her, spinning her to face him as the tempo increases. He cradles her body close as their lower bodies fly around the floor.
I open my mouth to crack another joke about form when a whimper from my left has my head jerking to Rosie.
Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glued to the screen, her legs crossing slightly in my lap.
Awareness washes over me like a shower, causing my cock to twitch.
“Rosie Taylor,” I say, my voice dropping to a purr. Her eyes dart to me, wide and guilty.Busted. “Are you liking the dance, pretty girl?”
I trace my hand along the arches of her foot, slowly roaming further up her calf.
“No,” she squeaks, her face flushing as she shuffles in place.
“Liar.”
