A look came over his face that made me scramble to keeptalking.
“I’ve already fallen in love with you.”
He froze.
Solid.
Staring at me.
I sat.
Solid.
Staring at him.
Snapper broke the silence.
“Shit, fuck, we’regonnahave tonuke it,” he growled, practically threw his plate on the coffee table, yankedmine out of my hand and did the same, then pulled me out of the couch.
Before I knew what was happening, he was pulling me up thestairs.
“Snap!”I snapped.
He turned and I nearly collided with him but stopped becausehis hands came up, framed my face, and he bent low from his step above me toput his face in mine.
“You just gave yourself to me, Rosie, so I’mhavin’ you now and I don’t give a shit the naan is never asgood after it’s microwaved.”
I was wrong.
The fireplace was okay for setting a romantic mood.
But the best romance in the world was standing with yourman’s hands on you in the curve of a spiral staircase talking about microwavingnaan bread.
I wanted to laugh.I wanted to throw my arms around him.Iwanted to go up on my toes and press my lips hard to his.
I’d found the man who was perfect for me and he wasmine.
I didn’t get a shot to do any of that.
He dropped his head farther and kissed me.
It didn’t even start sweet.
It started wet and hot and stayed that way until Snapperbroke the kiss, let go of my face, but again grabbed my hand and pulled me upthe rest of the stairs.
When we got up there, I was ready to yank off all myclothes, all his clothes, and go at it fast and furious.
But Snapper had other ideas.
Sure, he walked direct to the bed.
And sure, he got right on it.
That was, sitting on it and pulling me in his lap with bothmy legs to the side (not even any straddle action!).
He reached out, turned on the light, and came back to me.
“Snapper,” I whispered, curling the fingers of one handaround the side of his neck.
