Her chin is on my shoulder, and her hand is rubbing circles on my back.
It feels very domestic to be sitting in a restaurant with her. I want this so very badly that I ache inside. My need to be the one that Rose belongs to spreads through me like a sweet syrup, coating me in the softness of her presence.
“Rosie,” I say, but I can only think about her body under mine, writhing beneath me, skin to skin. “Do you want me to take you home now?”
Rose shakes her head. “I don’t want to go home to my apartment and be alone.”
“You can come back with me if you want,” I offer, hoping that she wants to.
“Where are you going?” Rose asks me, and I can see the hope on her pretty face.
I want to take Rose home and make her a part of my life. I want her to be at the center of everything and to love every minute of it. Right now, though, I would settle for just getting her into some warm, comfortable clothes. As much as the pale rise of her breasts tempt me, her comfort is most important to me.
“I’m going to my condo,” I tell her gently. She presses her lips to my neck as she listens to me, and I think the waitress will have to kick us out if she keeps doing that. “I have a home outside of the city that I stay at when I’m not in Brooklyn, but tonight I’m just going to stay here. It’s above the building I use as my office.”
“A condo,” Rose repeats, looking up at me with those whiskey eyes.
“I have a spare room,” I tell her, though I want her in my bed, warm under my sheets.
“Okay,” Rose answers, and I can see the hint of disappointment on her face.
I don’t want Rosie to think that she’s just a one-off kiss at the pizza place. Hell, this is the woman I want to stand by my side and be my wife, my equal in every meaning of the word.
I need every inch of her, and I have to make her mine.
She puts her thigh over mine, revealing a pale strip of skin where the slit in her glittery pink dress falls open. I think of how easy it would be to slip my hand between her legs and push gently inside of her, curling my fingers into her slick warmth.
I shake my head to clear the thoughts. She probably doesn’t even realize what she's doing.
“Grey,” Rose whispers, parting her lips as she stares up at me. “I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you. I don’t want to stay in a separate room.”
Rose is blushing, though she stands her ground. A feral, unhinged sort of lust sweeps over me, and I imagine bending her over the sink in my bathroom, and coming while I’m still inside of her.
I can’t really think of anything else.
“I want you in my bed,” I tell her, my voice rough with lust and desire. “I can’t explain to you how much I need you.”
Rose’s eyes seem to go hazy with lust. “How long before they come to get us?”
“I can tell them to wait,” I answer, dragging a hand up her back.
I just text the driver and let him know we want him to come later.
I’m aware that we’re still in the middle of the pizza shop and that there are other people eating and talking quietly, but in the flicker of the candles, Rose is intoxicating to my senses. I can smell her perfume and feel the brush of her glimmering strawberry locks across my arm.
She’s irresistible.
“Tell them we need time to eat and not to get us just yet,” she says, nodding.
I pull back for a moment.
“Rosie, how do you feel?” I ask her because she’s been through an ordeal. I don’t want our affection to be just because I saved her from that situation.
I want to feel like she needs me as much as I need her, and not just because she’s afraid.
“I feel good,” Rose tells me, kissing my neck until she drags her teeth across my ear. “I want you to make me feel good, Grey,” she says, low and sensual.
Her hand presses gently against the crotch of my trousers, nearly gripping my hard length with her fingers. Her other hand grabs my suit jacket from where I put it behind me, and she tucks it over my shoulder, hiding us halfway from view.
“Right now? You want to do it right now?” I ask her, but my voice is hoarse, and I want nothing more than to know what she tastes like.
I want her to say yes.
Rose nods, and she massages her hand over the front of my pants, slow enough that no one would be able to tell.