“One of the other junior partners at my firm,” she says, her tone clipped.
“You have a lot of those?”
Her brow arches as she crosses to the counter, reaching for a bottle of wine and a glass. She doesn’t answer right away.Instead, she pops the cork and takes her time pouring herself a generous serving.
The flicker of jealousy I felt earlier starts to deepen.
She lifts the glass to her lips, studying me with those sharp, intelligent eyes. I study her right back, taking my time to let her feel the way my eyes travel over every curve of her body.
She’s dressed to kill in a navy pencil skirt and a matching, fitted top under a tailored blazer. The shirt is low-cut, just sheer enough that I can see the faint outline of her black bra covering nipples I know are straining through the fabric.
The whole outfit screams business, but on her, it’s sexy. It always is. Rosie could wear a garbage bag and still look stunning.
“Dierks and I are working on a case together. I invited him back here so that we could go over the notes from court today and plan for what’s next. My apartment was closer than his. It was a matter of convenience.”
A matter of convenience.
I hate that response. A grave reminder that this marriage we’re in is also a ‘matter of convenience.’
But it’s still her apartment, and I know I don’t get to tell her that I’d rather she never brings another man home again. Not one who isn’t me at least.
She steps closer. “Were you upset that he came back here?”
“Yes,” I respond so fast that her brown eyes widen in surprise. “I have something for you.”No backing out now.
She sets her glass of wine down on the counter. “I have something for you too.”
That catches me off guard. The ring that’s in my pocket feels like it’s burning a hole straight through the fabric. It’s been tauntingme since I bought it, whispering that I’m a fool for doing something so impulsive when she hasn’t given any sign that she likes me more than as a client and temporary roommate.
“Does your gift have something to do with food?” I ask. I sure as hell hope not—I’ve already stocked the fridge with a three-course meal from her favorite restaurant in Brooklyn. Lumpia, pancit, the works.
She shakes her head again and steps closer, her heels clicking softly on the floor until she’s standing right in front of me. Then, without warning, she drops to her knees.
I freeze, my brain short-circuiting as I stare down at her. Rosie. On her knees. Just an inch away from my cock.
And it doesn't look like she's down there tying her shoes given she’s wearing heels.
“Rosie... what the hell are you doing?” I growl.
Chapter 21: Rosie
My heart is racing, knees wobbling as I look up at Boone from the floor.
“I’m sucking you off,” I respond.
I reach up for the band of his sweatpants, loop my fingers inside the cotton and pull hard.
If he denies me now, well I’m not only going to be super embarrassed, but horny too. Because this is all I’ve been thinking about since I got back to the city this morning.
His hands grip my wrists, stopping me.
Oh no.
“Wait a second. We should talk about what happened this weekend first.”
I shake my head no because I don’t want to talk about feelings and emotions. “I don’t want to.”
He hesitates, his dark eyes searching mine, and then releases my wrists. My fingers make quick work of the band and slide it past his hips. He's huge and already hard for a guy who wanted to stop things and talk.
