Page 47 of My Rose

“I never said that.”Did I?

“No? I must’ve imagined it then.” His lips quirked into a sly smile. “You seemed too comfortable in my arms for me to move to the floor. You fell asleep pretty fast. I think I got through maybe two pages before you were out.”

“And you just let me stay like this all night?” Heat flooded my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and something else that came alive whenever I thought about him. “I didn’t mean to, I’m—”

“Yes, you did.” His arm wrapped around me tighter, pulling me closer. “I hope the next words out of your mouth weren’t about to be ‘I’m sorry,’ or I’d have to rectify a few things.”

My brows pinched together. “Like, what?”

He shifted his hold on me. “For one, I’d have to remind you to stop apologizing. You don’t need to, and you didn’t seem the least bit apologetic about being this close to me last night.”

“Is there a two?”

“There is.” He swept his lips over my forehead, then slid out from beneath me and walked over to his dresser.

I turned toward his bookshelves. “Are you going to tell me what that is?”

“No, babe. I’m going to go take a cold shower, and you are going to stay right there and wait for me to get back.” He grabbed a few pieces of clothing, then tossed his head over his shoulder. I hadn’t moved an inch, just as he ordered.

“Good girl.” The smile he gave melted me from the inside, my veins pulsing with liquid fire as the door clicked shut behind him.

Knowing he was behind that door, naked, made me want to go up to the door and peek through it. I was willing to bet he looked like a god under the water. I’d never wished to be a droplet of water before, but suddenly that’s all I wanted to be just so I could curve in and out of every hard, defined ridge of his body. Especially the parts further south.

I bit down on my lip and reached for my phone, turning my mind back to my friend who’d wronged me of losing my virginity the night before.

Rose: I can’t believe you told Briggs I was a virgin.

Jasmine: Was? Damn, that was fast.

Rose: Am. Was. Was and am.

Rose.: You suck.

Jasmine: I didn’t tell him, girl. He can probably just idk tell, honestly.

Rose: What is that supposed to mean? How can someone just tell?

Jasmine: Well, can you tell if he’s a virgin?

Rose: There’s no way in hell he’s a virgin.

Jasmine: There’s your answer, girl.

The water turned off and I tucked my phone away like it suddenly caught fire in my hand. The mahogany door opened, revealing Briggs in a low-slung towel, tousled, wet hair falling down over hisforehead. Beads of water dripped onto the floor from the ends of his hair, mimicking the way my jaw had fallen at the sight of him. His abs and the deep cuts on either side of his hips—along with the bruise—were on full display. It was the first time I’d ever gotten an unobstructed and unfiltered look at him. He was beautiful—more like the actual personification of sex appeal or one of the Greek statues I studied. And his tattoos—each one that covered his arms made clear his appreciation for ancient art as they sprawled up and over his shoulders, reappearing along his sides. All except for the thorns that weaved in and out and the clock on the back of his bicep seemed to fit his chosen theme which oddly fit one of my biggest interests. Those thorns though—they caught my eye at the diner, but something about it felt more personal than I wanted to ask about.

“You didn’t move.” He smiled faintly at me as I snapped my mouth closed.

“Nope, I stayed.” My voice cracked as I tried to pry my eyes from the grooves along his hips, envisioning what they led to. “Didn’t you already grab what you needed?”

He leaned against the dresser, eyeing me over in amusement. “I did. I just wanted to see if you listened.”

“Did you expect me to not?” I sat up and crossed my arms.

“Kind of. You have a knack for not listening to me if you haven’t noticed.” The edge of his lips curled but then dropped as he moved to the foot of the bed. I silently begged for the towel to fall, for some drastic surge of air from one of the several vents in his room to force it down, or for his movement to shimmy the towel to his ankles.

I swallowed, struggling to keep my focus on his eyes. “You don’t always have the best reasons for telling me what to do.”

“Is your safety not a good reason?”

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