Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IAN
Having Rose here is bittersweet.
On one hand, there are so many great things about her moving in.
Holding her at night, bringing her coffee in the morning, catching a whiff of her shampoo after she uses the shower. Kissing Rose whenever I want to, instead of having to wait. Knowing she’s safe.
But then there’s the painful part of it.
The knowledge that Rose isn’t here just because she wants to be, but because she’s not safe on her own.
Just like the first night we spent together, this isn’t how I wanted it to happen.
Moving in together—yes, I’ve thought about it—was supposed to be something that happened naturally. Maybe I’d surprise Rose with a key. Or I’d set up a romantic dinner. I’d tell her all the things spinning around in my head; put voice to the words I’m still hesitant to share.
But this way… It’s just not how I wanted it.
Rose waking from nightmares and jumping when the ice drops into the dispenser? Seeing the fine lines of worry etched across her forehead, or how her mouth drags down when she thinks I’m not looking? No. I don’t want that .
And I keep thinking about her crying yesterday, finally breaking down. The sorrow in her eyes, the uncertainty, and the fear.
I’ll do anything to take that away from Rose.
When she fell asleep in my arms, I could barely breathe from how right it felt. Her satiny skin and small curves pressed against me; she cuddled into my chest, one hand clutching my shirt like a blanket.
It was perfect.
I couldn’t bring myself to break the connection, so I held Rose for hours as she slept. Did my legs fall asleep? Did I ignore all the calls and texts coming in on my phone, which was just out of arm’s reach? Yes to both. And it was worth it.
We didn’t get to do any of the things Rose had planned—the casserole, the cannoli, or making love—not that I expected to. Not last night, when she was still so drained and shaken by everything. After her nap, I got Rose settled on the couch with snacks and blankets and we watched a marathon of rom-coms on Netflix until she fell back to sleep again.
I didn’t bring up going back to her apartment, and neither did she.
So today we went over there instead. Grant and Cash helped, and we managed to get all Rose’s things packed up—aside from a few pieces of furniture—and back to my place in under an hour.
Rose has been unpacking her clothes since we got back, and I’ve been hanging her paintings. Because of course, we weren’t going to leave them behind, not where something could happen to them. And I like them here—my favorite over the fireplace, a brilliant sunset in the dining room, a snow-capped mountain in the hallway—bringing more life to my house than there’s ever been.
I’m just stepping back to make sure the painting above the fireplace is level when Rose comes into the room. “I think I’m done,” she starts, “but I had to move some of your clothes. Are you sure you don’t want me to put mine in the guest room?—”
Then she stops, her eyes jumping to the painting. “You hung it.”
There’s a note of something in her voice, but I can’t tell what it is. “Did you not want me to?” Worry seeps through me. I thought this would make Rose feel more at home, but what if it’s just an unpleasant reminder of the career she’s so worried about losing?
“No—”
“I’m sorry.” Rushing forward, I take her uninjured hand in mine. “I thought… well. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take them down.”
“No. I mean—” A tiny shake of her head. “No, it’s fine. More than fine. I wasn’t expecting… but it looks really nice there.”
“It’s my favorite.” I inspect her face, searching for any hint of unhappiness. “It seemed wrong to have all your gorgeous paintings just leaning against a wall in the office. So I thought this might be better. But if you don’t like it?—”
“I do.” Her arms wrap around my waist, and she leans into my chest. “Thank you. And it looks perfect there. I think it found its new home.”
What does that mean? Is Rose planning to leave the painting behind when this is all over? Or is she planning on staying?
A hint of pink touches her cheeks, perhaps Rose wondering the same thing as me. “Um. Anyway. About the closet. Are you sure? I don’t want to squish your clothes.”
“I’m sure. It’s just more convenient for you, since you’re sleeping in there. But are you sure you don’t want me to take the guest room? It’s not a problem.”
While I want Rose in my bed, I don’t want her to feel pushed into a level of intimacy she’s not ready for. Making love is one thing—not that we’ve done that yet, either—but sharing a room is something much different. We slept together last night, but that was under extenuating circumstances, and Rose might want more privacy going forward.
“I wouldn’t take your bedroom from you.” Her forehead creases. “But if you want privacy, I can sleep in the guest room.”
“You’re not sleeping in the guest room.”
“Well, neither are you.”
Rose has this cute little scowl as she looks up at me, and I can’t help smiling.
“What?” Her brows wing up.
“Rose. I want you in my bedroom. With me. But I don’t want to push. If you’re not comfortable with it yet, I’ll sleep in the guest room. And I’m fine with it. Okay?”
A moment passes as she stares at me. Then she smiles. “Well. I want to be in the bedroom with you, too.”
“Okay.” I grin at her. “So it’s settled, then.”
“It’s settled.” Rose grabs my neck and stretches up to kiss me. “We’re staying in your bedroom. Together.”
I rest one hand at the small of her back, the other at her nape, then dip my head to capture her lips. It’s a brief kiss, a tender affirmation of what we’re agreeing to. But then I pull away to clarify, “This doesn’t mean I expect anything, Rose. I’m happy to just sleep next to you.”
“But.” Her eyes turn a deep emerald flecked with gold. “Could we do more? I was… I missed my chance for two nights already. And I’ve been thinking about it for ages. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
Arousal throbs, hard and insistent. “Now?”
“Unless you don’t want to. Did I make a mistake? Assuming?”
Desire shoots through me so quickly, I’m on fire with it. “Oh, no. You didn’t make a mistake.” My hands cup Rose’s perfect ass and I lift her into my arms. As her legs instinctively wrap around me, my voice goes rough. “I definitely want to.”
“Oh.” It comes breathlessly. “Good.” Eyes darkening, she meets my gaze. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Good question.
I’ve never wanted a woman more, and Rose is in my arms, telling me she’s ready. What am I waiting for?
“You’re right.” And I take off toward the bedroom at a near-run.
She clings to me like a little monkey, laughing as she says, “Ian. I can walk!”
But I ignore her; it’s no effort to carry her through the house and up the stairs, and I like the feeling of it. Carrying Rose to bed touches a primal, caveman-esque chord in me; meeting a desire I never knew I had.
I’ve always been a protector, but with Rose? I want to do everything for her.
By the time we get to the bedroom, there are two spots of color high on her cheeks and her eyes are sparkling. As I cross the room to the bed, she asks with a small smile, “Can I tell you something?”
Stopping halfway there, I lift Rose higher in my arms and say, “Of course. What is it?”
Her smile quirks. “You carrying me like that? I liked it. A lot.”
“Oh, really?” My voice dips, turning gravelly. “You did?”
“Yes.” Heat flares in her gaze. “In all the romance movies, when the guy whisks the girl off her feet? It’s romantic. But what you did? In real life? It was so much sexier than that.”
Oh . I was already hard, but now I’m aching. Pressure builds. Every brush of fabric against my arousal is sweet agony.
“You liked that?” I dip my head to nip at the tender skin just below her jaw. “What else do you like?”
Breath quickening, Rose stares at me for a second before answering. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed… but sometimes I stare at your arms when you’re working out.”
A wolfish grin spreads across my face. “I know.”
“You do?” Her cheeks go pink. “That’s not embarrassing at all .”
“It’s not embarrassing.” This time I suckle at the base of her throat before continuing, “I look at your body all the time. Your breasts. Your ass. Your legs. Everything, really.”
Pleasure curves her lips. “And you like what you see?”
“Rose. I love what I see. You’re gorgeous.”
“So are you.” In a rush, Rose adds, “When I watch you practicing, and you have your shirt off… I can’t help thinking about seeing you braced over me, all your muscles flexing, and…” Rose trails off, turning even pinker than before.
It’s a perfect duality. My shy Rose boldly telling me exactly what she likes. Like a beautiful flower unfurling, sharing all her hidden layers with me.
My Rose .
There’s a certainty inside me that Rose is supposed to be mine.
Not just for now. But for longer.
Maybe always?
Is it too soon? Does it matter?
“Ian?” Her eyes fill with worry. “Did I just make things weird?”
I give myself a mental shaking. “No, hun. Of course not. Why?”
“Well, because we’re still here”—she glances over her shoulder at the bed—“and not there .”
Right. Now is not the time to contemplate life choices. Not when my incredible girlfriend is in my arms, we’re only feet from the bed, and she wants to have sex with me.
Not just sex. It’s more than that.
“My mistake.” I move toward the bed and set her down carefully. “This is definitely where I want to be.”
Rose props herself up with one arm and drags her gaze up and down my body. “When I imagined this, I took your shirt off. But I can’t.” She gestures with her casted hand. “Not like this.”
She wants my shirt off? No problem.
Reaching behind my back, I pull my shirt over my head and off, dropping it onto the floor. I flash a grin at her. “Done.”
She laughs. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but that works, too.”
I sit on the bed and pull Rose into my arms, kissing her deeply. Tasting her. Tracing the seam of her lips with my tongue, teasing them open and plunging inside.
Tunneling my fingers into her silky hair, I tilt her head back and devour her.
We forget to breathe.
My other hand goes beneath her shirt, stroking across her satiny skin, over the tiny swell of her stomach and the curves of her waist.
She traces the lines of my muscles—first hesitant, then bolder—leaving a searing trail behind.
It’s a slow exploration. Though I’m desperate for her, nothing could make me rush this.
For our first time, I want to appreciate everything.
How she looks as I peel her clothes off, her cheeks flushed with excitement, eyes dark with hunger, her lips slightly parted.
And her body, finally exposed in all its beauty. I’ve seen Rose’s without a shirt on, and I’ve seen her in only a towel, but this…
Laid out like an offering, but only for me.
Her breasts, rosy-tipped, small but perfect. The smattering of freckles across her chest, like a tiny sky of constellations. The slight curve of her hips.
Her hair spilling across the bed, a glossy curtain of auburn and chestnut.
Her expression; filled with trust and desire and something deeper. A depth of emotion that makes my breath catch. Makes my heart stutter.
And touching Rose…
I’ve never felt anything like this.
When I palm her breast, her nipple goes hard and she arches toward me, eager for more.
When my hand dips to the apex of her thighs, she’s warm and slick and ready for me. I plunge one finger, then two inside her velvety heat, feeling the clutch of her inner muscles pulling at me.
As I draw Rose closer to the edge, she makes this sexy sound in the back of her throat, and her hips jerk against my hand uncontrollably.
She wraps her slender fingers around me, stroking and using just the right amount of pressure to bring me right to the edge along with her. As I surge into her hand, a satisfied smile tugs at her lips. “Is this the way you like it?”
“I love it,” I groan. I touch her hand, stilling it, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. “But I don’t want to finish yet. Not when I’m not inside you. And if you keep going…”
“I want you inside me.” Her hips fall open, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “Now.”
Oh. I want this. But— “But I want to make sure you’re ready.”
The need to be inside her is unbearable, but I’d die rather than rush her.
After everything Rose has been through, she needs patience and a gentle touch and?—
“Ian.” Rose pins me with her gaze. There’s no hint of hesitancy or bashfulness as she says, “Since our first date, I’ve been thinking about this. Being with you. I am one-hundred percent ready.”
Oh . Did I think I couldn’t get harder? Wrong.
Before I completely lose myself in her, I quickly roll on protection. Then I notch myself at her center and lean over to capture her lips with mine. “Are you ready, hun?”
There’s no hesitation. No doubt. “More than ready. I want you.”
And then it’s perfection.
Sinking inside her, slowly at first, feeling her stretch around me.
Then faster, plunging deep, bottoming out, every stroke the most incredible feeling.
Not just the riot of sensations, but the act of joining.
It’s like Rose was made for me.
When she clutches my biceps with her good hand, and says, “It’s even better than I imagined,” I laugh in the midst of our passion, which is something special on its own.
We move faster, hips colliding, breathing in quick, stolen gasps.
And when her inner walls start to quiver, I press my thumb to that sensitive bud, and Rose moans, “I’m so close.”
Another stroke, another flick of my thumb, and she flies apart around me.
And then I give myself permission to let go. To plunge deep; once, twice, and then, as her muscles flutter around me, I explode.
Flashes of white dot my vision, and my lungs strain for air. My arms shake. My pulse races faster than after any practice session.
I roll over, pulling Rose along with me, draping her across my body.
As I wrap my arms around her, she snuggles into me, tucking her head underneath my chin. We lay together, breathing hard, letting the air cool our heated bodies.
After a minute or five—time never moves right when I’m with Rose—she kisses my neck and says with a hint of laughter in her voice, “Well. That was pretty good.”
“Only pretty good?” I put on an insulted tone, but I’m smiling.
Her lips curve against my neck. “Yeah. But I think we should do it again. Just to see if it gets better.”
“Hmmm.” After a moment of mock thought, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”