46. Nate

FORTY-SIX

NATE

Rosie's lips part, and her tongue slides against mine.

Moaning into her mouth, I tighten my hold.

Her hair is silky against my palm.

Her body is soft against mine.

Visions of stripping her bare dance behind my eyelids, and I'm forced to pull my mouth away from hers.

"Dammit, Rosie," I pant, pressing my forehead against hers. "This isn't what I had planned."

There's a puff of breath against my mouth. "That's a shame."

My lips pull up into a smile, and I open my eyes. "I'll be honest, I had hoped to do this later. But I wasn't planning to start with my mouth on yours." My voice is gruff, but I make it loud enough for Rosie to hear.

"What were you planning to start with?"

I press my thumb against the side of her neck as she speaks, absorbing her racing pulse.

"Well." I tip my head back enough so I can look into her eyes. "I was planning to order us some drinks, ask how your day of cooking was, and maybe let my knees bump against yours under the table."

A soft smile pulls at her mouth. "Sounds very respectable. "

I huff. "It would've been."

"We could still give it a try." Rosie tries to step back, but I don't release my hold of her neck.

"Nah." I smirk. "I like this version better."

As I lean in, her smile grows, and I feel those damn words expand inside my ribcage.

Like you already love her.