56. Nate

FIFTY-SIX

NATE

I drag my hands down from Rosie's neck, sliding my palms over her breasts, before gripping her elbow and pulling her out of the elevator.

The two yards from here to my door feel like a mile.

I unlock it quickly and shove it open, and Rosie follows me inside.

The door slams shut behind us, and I'm tempted to tear her clothes from her body and fuck her right here.

Six years.

The caveman part of my brain shouts that it should be thirty-three years. That she should have waited for me.

But I'll take six.

I keep hold of Rosie's arm as we kick off our shoes and she drops her purse to the floor.

A loud meow breaks through the silence of the condo, and Rosie startles next to me.

"My roommate, Charles," I explain as the oversized furball stands on the kitchen island, yelling at me for being out late.

"He's so cute."

"And he knows it." I start across the large great room, bringing Rosie with me. "I'll introduce you later. "

She lifts her free arm and gives my cat a wave as we pass him. And fuck if that doesn't make me like her even more.

We haven't even kissed since the bar, but all I can hear is our labored breathing as I rush us through the dining space, into the hall, past my office, past the workout room and laundry room, past the guest room, past bathrooms.

I don't stop.

I don't give her a tour or tell her where anything is.

I just bring Rosie straight to my bedroom.