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d for you to have escorted me home, to hang about, when you’ve lost interest—”
Kal just gave up and kissed her.
It was complicated to think about her, complicated to try to talk to her, but if she was going to look at him with hurt in her eyes and try to find a way to say she didn’t believe he wanted her, then he was going to kiss her, every time.
“Mmph,” she said.
“This okay?”
“Yes.” She wound her arms around his neck. Kal picked her up, set her on the countertop, and yanked her against his body. It was stupid how good she felt. Just stupid backward and forward, this whole thing with Rosemary, and even stupider that he didn’t want it to stop.
He took off her stupid shoes, and she moaned when he rubbed her feet.
He held her head in both hands and kissed her deep, pushing his frustration into her body, gripping her too tight so she’d have to grip him back, run her hands up under his shirt and dig into him with her fingernails.
His balls ached. His lower back began to protest the weird configuration of their bodies. “Where’s the bedroom?”
Rosemary pointed.
“Hang onto me.”
He carried her in and dumped her onto the bed, crawled up over her, and kissed her until the only frustration he felt was that she had clothes on.
That was a problem Kal could fix.
He kneeled above her, found the clasp that held her shirt together, fumbled with it until the halves separated cleanly and left him with a strap in each hand that he pulled down to reveal her bare chest.
“It comes off easier over my head.”
“Take it off.”
Rosemary did, sitting halfway up, which trapped his erection with so much sweet pressure that he tore off his shirt, attacked the zipper on her insane pants, peeled them down her legs, her panties, his jeans, until there was nothing left but Rosemary in his arms, wrapped around his body, tight against him everywhere.
He’d told himself he would take the time tonight to memorize every inch of her. The truth was, he’d already done it.
Five days, or six, however you counted the time, he already knew Rosemary Chamberlain, and she knew him, too, knew how to kiss him and sigh against his mouth and wiggle her hand between their bodies to palm his dick and drive him crazy.
“Did you happen to bring a condom?”
“In my jeans.”
She dove her torso off the bed, fished around in his pants, returned with the condom packet in her hand. “Put it on me.”
“Get on your back.”
He flipped over, put his hands behind his head, and watched her rip it open, kneeling up naked, pretty and soft and muscled and bruised.
The first time he saw her naked, her hair dripping, pupils blown, he hadn’t let himself look. Kal looked now. He looked at her breasts, the hard shapes of her nipples, her pubic hair a shade darker than the hair on her head. He looked at her hands rolling the condom onto him, her intent expression, the way she rocked a little back and forth on her heels, too horny to keep still.
He kept his hands to himself and looked at Rosemary until she looked back at him. Then he said, “Come here.”
She crawled up the bed to lay beside him, her head on the pillow by his head, her eyes dark blue because they hadn’t turned the bedroom light on. The light that came in through the doorway from the kitchen was enough to see by.
Enough to see the vulnerability in her face that she wasn’t bothering to hide. Enough to see that she didn’t just want to fuck him, any more than he just wanted to fuck her. “Rosemary.”
She put her hand over his mouth. “Shh.”
That seemed like the best way to handle it.
