“Well,” Andrea says, throwing her hands up. “It’s just a shock is all.”
“Process it on your own time and then get back to us.” I send her a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
I hold it open as Andrea scurries past. I step further away from the door as Cleo attempts to brush past me. This woman makes my skin crawl. How has Rosie put up with her for her whole life?
Out of the corner of my eye I see Rosie’s dad pulling her into an awkward hug. I glance away respectfully but honestly he sat there and let himself get steamrolled by his wife and daughter, without so much as moving a muscle to step in to shield his youngest. I know for a fact that I will never stand by and allow that to happen tomydaughter. Ever.
He approaches, offering me a handshake which I warily accept. “Thank you,” he says, avoiding eye contact before adding a quiet, “and congratulations.”
I nod my head once, not trusting myself to open my mouth.
He leaves and I close the door behind him, resting my hands on the wood and dropping my head
“I’m sorry Rosie,” I say, turning finally. “I just couldn’t sit by and let?—”
Warm lips land on mine and it only takes a second for my reflexes to kick in before I circle my arms around Rosie, tugging her to me.
I almost groan as her curious tongue slides past my lips, widening them further. Her small hands cross my shoulders and tug at my hair, sending lightning shooting down my spine.
“Rosie,” I mumble as she presses kisses along my jaw. “Slow down.”
“I don’t want to,” she mutters into my skin.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s not my plac–”
“Don’t say sorry,” she whispers against my lips, pulling back to look in my eyes. “Don’t say sorry for that. No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.” She blinks rapidly, as she runs her fingers across my jaw. “So, don’t be sorry.”
Her lips find mine again and I sink into her, pulling her closer as if I can meld her body to mine. I’ve not kissed her since that first night, at the wedding, and I want to kick myself for not chasing after her sooner, not kissing her sooner. How have I lived thirty two years on this planet without this woman? Her breasts crush against my chest, and I slip my hand under the hem of her jeans, clutching her ass.
She tugs me backwards until her back hits the counter, and it’s second nature to lift her and place her on top of it.
She moans breathlessly as I grind into her pussy, my cock harder than a steel pipe.
My hands explore her, running along her back and around to her throat. Her pulse jumps wildly under my hand, and I pull my lips away from her lips to press a kiss to the jumping point.
“Are you sure?” I mumble into her neck.
“Please, Jackson.”
I clasp her jaw with my hands and pull back to look at her. With her cheeks flushed and lips swollen, she looks ready to be fucked.
“Rosie.” I swipe my thumb across her swollen lip and watch as her eyes darken. I swallow harshly. “I want this to be real,” I confess, unable to hide how desperately I want her. All of her.
“You do?” she asks, licking her lips.
“Hmm,” I rumble, sliding my lips across her jaw and to the soft juncture of her neck. “I want us to be us.”
I’m glad I’m not looking at her. Buried in her warm skin, I can safely imagine that she’s going to agree with me.
“Yes,” she says breathlessly. I lift my head gazing into her eyes.
“Yes?”
“Yes,” she says, a smile pulling at her lips. “I want it to be real too.”
“You really mean that?”
“Yes, Jackson, I mean that. I think a part of me wanted that the whole time but I thoughtyouwanted to keep it casual.” She lifts her hand to my cheek, her soft fingers brushing against my lips.
