Stripped Down

We’ve had fully body contact twice since she came home, but I haven’t kissed her once. That’s a mistake I’m fixing now. She needs to know what I intend for her.

“You got a hello for me?”

She shoots me a tentative smile. The polite kind that doesn’t quite reach her eyes and that she’d give the goddamned checker at the grocery store. Not good enough.

“Hi,” she parrots obediently.

Okay. I like the way she listens to me. My dick stiffens immediately, demanding more, so I move across the kitchen. She’s barefoot, and there’s not all that much of her to begin with. I get her pressed up against the kitchen counter without too much effort.

“Angel?” I like the way she says my name too, although I’m betting she could read me the phone book and I’d come on the spot. Maybe it’s her voice, or maybe it’s just Rose. Fuck if I know, but I plant my arms on either side of her, my dick tucked against her sweet little front.

“Tell me what you like,” I say and her eyes widen. Kinda cute, really. She knows she’s suddenly got the big bad wolf on her hands, but she’s not sure what to do next. I’m happy to play show and tell with her.

“Why?”

“Because I’m gonna give it to you.”

Hopefully right here in my fucking kitchen, if I’m honest. I’m already leaning in, my mouth covering hers. She’s got the prettiest brown eyes. Looking into them, watching the surprise and the heat blossom is almost enough for me.

Except… I want more. I want all of Rose, and she’s not saying no.

Apparently, though, I must have fucked Karma’s sister at some point and dumped her ass, because Fate is feeling downright bitchy toward me. The front door opens. Slams shut. Boots pound down the hallway and Rose shoves at me, trying to put some space between us. Part of me—the part that isn’t pressed up against her cotton-covered pussy—agrees that I should let her go.

“No one’s coming in.” I breathe the words against her mouth.

“Are you kidding me?” Rose hisses the words at me, slapping her palms harder against my pecs. It’s gonna take a lot more than that to hurt me, though.

“Listen.” I rest my forehead against hers, drinking her in. It’s stupid, the way I get lost in her. I don’t give a shit if my brothers fly into the kitchen on a magic carpet. The whole herd could come pounding through here right now, and I’d just swing Rose up onto the counter and keep right on touching her. She’s under my skin, and I’m in so deep I’m never getting out.

So I kiss her.

I plant my mouth on hers, no warm up, no cute preliminary, and I kiss her deep and hard. She makes a startled sound that I swallow, and then I give her my tongue. The denim shorts she’s almost wearing make it so goddamned easy to touch her. I swing her up onto the counter without breaking my hold on her mouth, and she whimpers as her butt hits the granite with a soft slap of sound. I’m not that rough, but she’s needy, grabbing at my shirt now to pull me closer instead of push me away.

I wrap my hand around her knee and push. She opens up for me, her legs hugging my hips as I step in. I’m just rimming the edge of her panties beneath the denim, teasing her hot, swollen skin with the pad of my fingertip when I hear the fucking boots pound down the stairs and head for the kitchen. It’s lunchtime. Axel has the appetite of a horse. He’s probably looking for a sandwich or whatever leftovers our housekeeper put in the fridge for him. Instead, he’s gonna get an eyeful.

I pull my hand away.

Rose whimpers.

I actually debate yelling for Axel to go away and then finishing her. She’s so close, and I’ve waited so long for this.

Axel barrels into the room, on a mission to empty the fridge. He’s halfway there before he even realizes we’re there.

“Whoa,” he says, coming to a halt.

Rose gives him a half smile that makes his eyes narrow. Yeah, he smells trouble. Since I’m pinning Rose to the counter, I also block his view and that’s fucking convenient. She’s mine, not his.

So shoot me. I’m a possessive bastard.

“New ink?” Axel asks, his gaze dropping to Rose’s bare leg. It’s about all he can see of her, and that’s just because she’s decided to drive her heel into my thigh. I’m lucky I didn’t park her above the knife drawer, because she’d probably go for my balls.

The tattoo in question is part of the vine-tree-thing that stretches over her spine. I can see two yellow flowers and one pink.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “I did it myself.”

“Didn’t it hurt?” He rummages in the fridge for sandwich fixings. Rose flushes, like she’s wondering if he knows what we were doing. If he’s silently judging us.