I lifted my hand to the back of her head, deepening the kiss, feeling her respond back and I stamped it into my memory. Nothing about this felt wrong.
If Laurie knew – when Laurie knew – she’d say something along the lines of ‘about fucking time’, so there was no guilt, only lightness.
And the weight of Rose on my knee.
She ended the kiss before me, sitting back a little, creating space between our bodies. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was wilder than before.
“We should probably pause there.”
“Why?” I ran my thumb over her lips, swollen in the best way.
“Because if we don’t stop now, we’ll be finding out too soon how compatible we are.”
“You mean you can’t control yourself around me?”
She shook her head slowly and smiled. “This is proof right here of me controlling myself.”
“Point taken.” My hands rested on her thighs, stiller than granite. “Maybe I should go now just in case you find your resolve slipping.”
“Maybe we should have a cup of tea and be adults rather than teenagers for the next half an hour.” She looked at the clock.
F U C K I N G L A T E #.
And it was – almost midnight.
“You need to get up off me then.”
She didn’t move.
“Rosie.”
“I’m not sure I want to just yet.”
“You mean you don’t actually have any of that control you mentioned.”
She was shaking her head again at me. “Let’s see who stops first.”
This kiss was not quite as slow, Rose’s hands on my chest, slipping lower, the space still between us giving me leverage to start my own exploration, along her side and then back down, palms grazing over her breasts, over her clothes, learning what I could just in case something changed.
She stilled her hands, gentling the kiss and moved away. “Control.”
“You’re still sat on me.”
“I know.”
“That tea won’t make itself.” I teased, knowing that she needed to move, else I’d stand with her still attached to me and I wouldn’t be carrying her into the kitchen.
She looked up to the ceiling and laughed to herself. “Tea. So English.” She clambered off me with all the grace of a ballerina standing up out of a mud bath.
I stood up, adjusting my jeans, still in some sort of state of shock and followed her into the kitchen area, bringing her empty mug from the coffee table with me.
“Thank you. You’re actually house trained. What happened?”
I wasn’t sure if that was meant to be offensive. “Living by myself, not that it seems to have had the same effect on you.”
“I have days when I’m fastidiously tidy.”
“And months when you’re not. Nothing’s changed, Rose Callaghan.” I reached out again to touch her, to put my hands on her waist because I could, and her hands went to my shoulders.
