“Not many,” I breathe.
He sets the food on the counter and comes to stand beside me, his body heating mine.
“Not many?” His voice is low now, teasing.
“None,” I admit. “Unless Netflix counts.”
He laughs softly and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is small, but it lands like a spark.
Before I can overthink it, I grab the front of his shirt and tug him down to me. The kiss hits like a match to kindling—instant, consuming. My fingers slide up the solid line of his back, his hands find my hips, following the same paths his gaze has lingered on for weeks.
He groans against my mouth, deep and rough, and it vibrates straight through me. His palms cup my ass, gripping just enough to make my knees weak.
“Lass,” he whispers between kisses, breathless. “This arse will drive a man mad.”
I laugh against his mouth, which only seems to undo him more. He catches me by the waist and lifts me easily, and I gasp at the sudden motion and the strength in him.
“Rogue, stop,” I whisper against his mouth, pulling back slightly. “You’ll hurt your back.”
He only grins, lips still brushing mine. “Shh, lass.”
“I’m serious,” I say, breathless. “I’m like two hundred pounds on a good day. Please, just—”
He cuts me off with another kiss, softer this time. “Over two hundred,” he murmurs, dropping back onto the couch with me still in his arms. His laugh is deep and full, shaking through both of us. “Are you mad, woman?”
I freeze, startled—not just because he lifted me like I’m lighter than air, but because he’slaughing. Really laughing. And the sight of it steals the air from my lungs. It’s a kind of joy I’ve never seen on him before, boyish and unguarded, and I’m too stunned to do anything but stare.
“Two hundred pounds is nothing, kitten,” he says, voice still rough with laughter. “I bench three hundred on a slow day. You’re not heavy. You’re perfect. And if I couldn’t lift you, I’d just work harder at the gym until I could.”
My throat tightens. I want to say something, anything, but the warmth in his eyes makes words impossible.
He shifts beneath me, one large hand sliding to the back of my neck. “Now, give me that mouth, woman,” he whispers, pulling me back down to him.
My protest disappears the moment he kisses me again, deeper and slower this time. Every movement is deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me. My pulse pounds so loud I can barely hear anything else.
I arch against him, breathing deeply through my nose. It’s wild to think we’ve only done this a few times because it feels like we’ve been doing this for years. He knows exactly how to make me melt against him, and no matter how close I am to him, I have the urge to be even closer.
My blood is sizzling, my heart is hammering against his chest, and all I can think about is how the clothes we are wearing are the only thing keeping us apart. My nipples harden, there’s a heaviness between my legs, and it’s not just him, it’s me. I’m flushed, I am aching. I am in need of so much more. Every pull of his lips makes me drown deeper and deeper in him.
When I least expect it, he pulls back slowly, our foreheads touching, and we’re both breathing hard. His voice is a low rasp. “Lass, we need to stop for a minute.”
“I’m sorry—”
He hushes me with another brief kiss.
“Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect. I just really want to do very bad things to you right now, and I know I shouldn’t. Not yet.”
The words alone set me on fire. Then he smiles, softer this time, and presses his lips to my cheek, my nose, and my forehead.
“Perfect girl,” he whispers. “Let’s eat before I forget I have manners.”
Rogue’s apartment is perfect. Everything is in its place. The furniture is all soft whites and beiges, so clean and precise it feels more like a model home than a bachelor pad.
Like the perfect host, he’s set the table for us. It’s big enough for ten, but we’ve claimed a small corner near the kitchen with two candles flickering between us. He surprised me with a bottle of sparkling white wine, already chilled.
I thought sitting next to him in his apartment would feel awkward, maybe even overwhelming, but it doesn’t. It’s easy, like something we’ve done a hundred times before. We talk, we laugh, and with every passing minute, I’m more certain this man will keep surprising me. There’s a gentle, genuine side to him that the world doesn’t see, and I can’t believe I get to.
After dinner, he asked if I wanted to watch a movie. I should’ve said no. We have early mornings, and one of the season’s biggest games is just two days away, but how could I? It’s impossible to walk away from him when I want a few more hours of this quiet closeness.
