Jaysus, just the thought of her in those tight pants, that arse…focus,Gallagher.
Me:
I’m trying to do the same, but there’s not much here in my flat. Would you like to have dinner with me? We could order takeout.
The bubbles appear, then vanish, then come back. My pulse keeps time with every bounce.
Kitten:
Are you inviting me over?
Me:
Yes, kitten.
Kitten:
Okay… what are we having?
Good question, you eejit. Should’ve thought that far ahead.
Me:
I hadn’t thought that far. I’m not sure.
Before I can even set the phone down, it starts ringing—not just a call, avideo call. From her.
I fumble the damn thing like it’s a live grenade, swipe to answer, and there she is, taking over my whole screen.
Her hair’s loose, messy waves around her shoulders, her cheeks a little flushed.
“Hey,” she says, smiling. “I figured I’d call, it’s easier to figure out dinner this way.”
I nod, trying to look normal while my heart hammers like a drumline. She props her phone against something and starts pacing. I catch glimpses of her space—a bed with rumpled sheets, a laptop on a desk, fairy lights strung along the wall. It’s soft, warm, and so very her.
“What do you mean you’ve got nothing to eat?” she teases, glancing at the screen. “Aren’t you on some kind of meal plan?”
I can’t help but smile. “Technically, I’ve been cooking. But I haven’t ordered groceries since we came back from New York.”
“Shouldn’t you have someone to help with that?” she asks, then without warning, tugs off her T-shirt.
My throat goes dry.
She’s wearing sky-blue tights and a matching sports bra, her skin dewy from yoga. Her curves are soft and strong—hips generous, thighs powerful, waist that begs to be touched. She’s not tiny. She’s real. The kind of beautiful that makes you forget how to breathe.
Before I can even blink, she gasps, eyes wide. “Oh my god, I thought I was out of frame.” She snatches her shirt up, clutching it to her chest.
I find my voice somehow. “No need to cover yourself, kitten. You look… stunning.”
Her cheeks flush a rosy pink. “You’re ridiculous.”
She settles onto the bed, still half hiding behind her shirt. “Rogue… shouldn’t you have people cooking for you? Or doing groceries?”
“I don’t,” I admit. “I don’t like having people here.”
She tilts her head, that small frown she gets when she’s thinking. “You just asked me to come over, though.”
“That’s different, I want you here.”
