Chapter 23 Boone
Do I think Rosie’s going to chicken out now? Hide the rest of the night in her bedroom after what just went down on her kitchen counter?
I’m sprawled out on the couch in the living room, my long legs propped up on the coffee table. A plate of pancit and lumpia sits on either side of me—one for her, one for me. I’m waiting, hoping, anticipating her reappearance now that I’ve heard the shower finally shut off.
What the hell was she doing in there for so long? If she was getting herself off again, I’m going to be pissed.
My fingers twist the gold band that’s on my ring finger, spinning it around three times. It’s just another piece of jewelry I picked up today in addition to the ring that I've yet to give her.
It didn’t feel right not wearing one. Sure, I could’ve played it off as being too dedicated to hockey, claiming I didn’t want to risk losing it on the ice. But I like the way it looks. I like the way it feels. I like what it symbolizes. Trust. Love. Commitment. Eternity.
And I like it even more now that it’s been inside her sweet cunt.
I bring the ring to my nose, inhaling deeply.
It still smells like her pussy, and I wasn’t kidding—I’m not washing this ring.
Ever.
I consider licking it, just to get one more taste of the best pussy I’ve ever had. Hell, I haven’t even been inside her with my cock, yet I know she’s the best I’ll ever have.
I decide against the licking. If Rosie walks out of her bathroom and catches me licking my wedding band like a man possessed, it might be the fastest way to land my ass back on the street and in Penn's apartment.
No need to ruin this marriage in one month.
Maybe I’m a sap. Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic. Or maybe Rosie’s been right about me all along.
When I fall for someone, I fall hard.
And it’s not like this is how I’ve felt with anyone else. Nope—my ex didn’t have me rushing out to buy a wedding band and wanting to wear it around town proudly.
These feelings are for Rosie and only her.
Finally, the creak of her bedroom door breaks the comfortable silence of her living room. Her head peeks out cautiously and when she spots me, her eyes widen in surprise.
“Oh, you’re still awake?”
I grin, patting the cushion beside me. “Yeah, but don’t sound so disappointed.”
She gives me a shy smile, and for everything we’ve done tonight, it still surprises me how cute she looks with that hint of bashfulness. As if I haven’t seen and touched every inch of her body already.
She steps through the doorway and gently closes it behind her before padding toward me on bare feet.
She's changed into a silky pair of pink pajamas.
The damp fabric from her wet hair is plastered to her skin, making it practically see-through and revealing the outline of her perfect breasts—breasts that I know will fit in my hands when I squeeze them.
I want to touch her but first, we need to have a talk.
“Come here and eat. I know you love this food.”
She hesitates next to the couch, and I realize she’s inside her head again. That’s not going to help my case.
“Do you want me to move to the other side?”
My legs are stretched out, and I’m planted right in the middle of the couch. Given my size, I’m taking up enough space that there’s no way she could sit down without us touching.
Which is exactly the point.
She hesitates for a beat before nodding. “If you don’t mind.”
I do mind but I don’t say that. I shift until there’s a free cushion available then she sinks into the seat next to me and picks up the plate of food I’ve set out.
“Thank you for getting this. I know I didn’t thank you earlier—I was a little… caught up.”
I grin. “No problem. I hope it still tastes good reheated.”
She digs into the pancit first, and the second she takes a bite, a low, involuntary moan escapes her lips. It’s soft, unguarded, and it shoots straight to my cock that hasn’t seemed to get the memo that we are not fucking our beautiful wife until she begs us to.
I adjust myself in my sweatpants, again.
She scoops up another forkful and brings it to her mouth. That mouth that was just sucking and choking on my cock because she wanted to. Because she initiated it.
What’s she so afraid of? It’s obvious to me that she’s into me too.
“This is… amazing,” she murmurs.
My plate’s long forgotten now as I watch her eat. She’s completely in the moment, savoring the food like I’d made it myself and maybe next time I will. I've always enjoyed cooking. I'm sure I can figure it out if it brings her this much pleasure.
She catches my stare and sighs, her cheeks the slightest tint of pink.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t ever apologize for making those noises. Please, continue.”
She laughs, the sound light and teasing, and nudges my shoulder playfully before returning to her plate.
“So…” I start.
“So…” she echoes, still eating, her gaze fixed firmly on her food instead of me in an overly intentional way. Guess we're going to do this without looking at each other.
“That was fun.”
Her cheeks pink a little more. “Yeah.”
“You should’ve told me that senior partner at your dad’s firm was on the line for you.”
Her fork freezes mid-air. She coughs, choking slightly, and I immediately wonder if I’ve picked the absolute worst moment to bring that up—while her mouth’s full of the best food Brooklyn has to offer.
She grabs the wine glass I brought in from the kitchen, the one she poured before giving me the best head of my life, and takes a long sip, setting it down carefully before finally meeting my gaze with her full attention.
“I’m guessing Cain told you about that?”
I nod. “Yeah. He did.”
“Would it have changed anything if you’d known?”
“Well, to start, I might’ve tried to be on better behavior.”
She snorts, laughing softly. “You seem pretty good to me—other than that almost kiss during the interview.”
“True,” I admit thinking back to that moment and how badly I wanted to kiss her. How badly I still want to kiss her. “But we’re a team. I would have liked to know.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, searching mine, and then she tilts her head, voice softer. “Are we a team?” I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off, her tone taking a sharper edge that I’ve only ever heard her use with her brother and father in their office.
“Because I’m on your team—as your lawyer, managing PR, doing damage control. But are we a team beyond that?”
I shake my head, running a hand over my jaw as I try to find the right words. “I want us to be a team. If you’d told me…” I pause, exhaling. “I would’ve helped you out. I would’ve been in your corner. I think we’ve become… you know, friends over the past month, don’t you?”
More than that now.
She bites down on her bottom lip, her gaze flicking to the plate of food in her lap. That small, nervous habit of hers always gets me. It’s like she doesn’t quite know how to process the idea of someone being there for her. Of being her friend.
I wonder if she knows the meaning of true friendship. I wonder if she understands the implications of being in a relationship, a marriage, with a man who has her back, who supports her dreams and goals, who doesn’t want her to change, and isn’t in competition with her.
But I can’t call her out on that without sounding like an asshole.
She knows it as much as I do. I just wish she’d let me help her in any way I can—return the favor for everything she’s doing for me. Marrying a guy you hardly know can’t be easy. Giving up her apartment, her home in Brookhaven…
“Are you… upset?” she asks softly, her voice unsure.
My brows draw together. “Upset? Why would I be?”
“I don’t know,” she says with a small shrug, still not meeting my gaze. “If you feel like I withheld information from you that you should have known, and we’re really friends… that seems like something a friend would be upset about. Are you mad at me?”
Does she even know how friendships work? Or relationships, for that matter?
People are never going to act the way you want them to. That doesn’t mean that you punish them for behaving differently.
“Rosie.” I set down my plate, turning toward her even though I’m only halfway through and already thinking about seconds.
“It’s not about being angry anytime someone does something that you disagree with.
It’s about communication. I’m bringing this up because I think that it’s fucking awesome that you’re about to make senior partner once we pull this off.
But also…” I take a breath, the words sticking in my throat because this next part I hate but I know I have to say “…I want you to know that I’m not going to do anything to mess this up for you.
Not anymore. Not now that I have this information. ”
Her eyes flick to mine cautiously.
“What does that mean?”
“Your dad doesn’t want us living together,” I continue, “and as much as it pains me to pay for a hotel for two months because I'm a cheap-ass, I’ll move out, foot the bill and keep my distance. If that’s what it takes for you to make partner.”
Her reaction isn’t what I expect. She waves her hand dismissively, all business, like the Rosie in the law offices.
“No, don’t be ridiculous. We’ve already done this for a month. It’s just two more. Cain won’t say anything to my dad.”
I nod slowly, but the weight of what I have to say next sinks deep because it’s not what I want but sometimes sacrifices are necessary for the people you care about most.
“Okay, well…” I rub the back of my neck, the words catching before I force them out. “I won’t touch you again either. I don’t want to risk screwing this up for you.”
It feels like stepping off a ledge I don’t want to leave.
She takes a slow sip of her wine, her gaze drifting past me, like she’s turning the weight of that over in her mind.
Of course I want to touch her again. I want to be touching her constantly.
I want to forget the rest of the season, forget the rules, forget the careful distance I’m putting between us and give in to everything my body keeps demanding.
I want to spend my days holding her hand and my nights holding her body in my bed.
But now I know what’s at stake for her. And knowing that changes everything from here forward.
I don’t want to be the reason she second-guesses herself, or her future. I don’t want her to think I’m not taking her career, her promotion, her hard work seriously. Because I am.
I can live with my reputation taking a hit. I’ve done it before. What I won’t do is be careless and selfish when it comes to hers.
“I see…” she says softly.
And maybe she does see. I hope that she knows how much I want her. How badly I want to keep exploring whatever the hell this thing is between us.
But I don’t trust myself to say that out loud. Not when I know how much she wants to make this promotion happen. I heard it straight from her brother. I saw it in her father’s eyes when he cooked up this devious plan and I see it in the hours that she puts in every day at the office.
Before I knew about senior partner, I had a whole plan mapped out on the train ride home from Brookhaven—how I’d convince her that we could date, that this could be real. But the second Cain told me what was at stake, I scrapped it.
But that didn't stop me from buying the ring. Because Rosie still deserves to have that. Because no matter what she wants at the end of this, she’ll keep that part of me.
“Okay,” she says finally, giving a small nod and a polite smile. “That’s probably the wisest decision.”
Then, just like that, she turns back to her food, eating as though we didn’t just have this gut-punch of a conversation.
I’ll give her the ring someday. But not today.
I’m not sure if she believes what she said, or if I do, for that matter but for tonight and at the risk of touching her again I’ll pretend to.
“So, I wanted to update you on something that I’ve been working on behind the scenes.”
She takes another bite of her food. “Oh?”
“Remember when I told you I wanted to throw a Valentine’s Day charity auction?”
She nods. “Yes…”
“Well, I think I’ve figured out how I’m going to do, and I have the perfect fundraiser in mind.”
We spend the rest of the evening going over the details of my idea, laughing and talking like we really are just friends.
And it’s… nice.
She's easy to talk to, smart and witty, and despite her not having any close friends, I know it's simply because she doesn't have the time for them and not because of her personality. Because Rosie is funny, kind, attentive and smart.
And this… This is how relationships are supposed to feel, right? Easy. Comfortable. Full of joy. It’s nothing like what I had with my ex.
Maybe I should call up Rhiannon and ask her to verify that for me. She’d know as our resident relationship expert.
Friends first, then lovers. That’s how it’s supposed to work.
And that’s how it feels with Rosie. She’s in my corner, and despite every instinct screaming at me to make this more, I’ll prove to her that I can be in her corner, too without the sex.
I’m going to support her goals as much as she's been supporting mine. I’m going to show her what a true partnership can look like. For the next two months. Until she gets this promotion. Until my case is dropped.
It’s just two more months.
Then I’ll beg her for more.
Even if it kills me to wait. Even if it hurts me not to touch her.