Page 81 of My Rose

“If you knew how many times I pictured that same bra on you, my hands ripping it from your body, you’d be calling me somethingmuch worse.” Heat pooled in his eyes. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never seen you more appropriately dressed, Rose baby.”

I swallowed and glared at the pillow as he picked it back up, then went right back to punching. “Next question. How many people have you slept with?” The second my question came out, I regretted it. I didn’t want to know how many women he’d been with, not really.

His smile fell flat. “Enough to know that I don’t want anyone else since I’ve tasted you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you ever reply with simple answers? Ones that actually answer what I asked?” As much as my question had slightly piqued my interest in hearing a number, I was kind of glad he replied as he usually did. Vague, but an answer nonetheless.

“Rose, you don’t want to know my number. All that matters is that you are my last.”

His last?I let my arms fall to my sides. “Are you in—” I stopped myself before I could ask what I wanted to, switching up the ending instead. “Are you in the mafia?” Asking if he loved me…well, I wouldn’t know how to respond to whatever answer he’d give to that. But being someone’s last and voicing that belief wasn’t something I took lightly. It eased some of the anger I was holding on to, knowing his drive was more than just some fixation on my well-being.

His features softened. “No, Rose. But the way my father runs his business isn’t too far from one, I guess.”

“So he treats you like a puppet, and you just accept that?”

He smiled softly. “My mouth doesn’t get me as far with my father as yours does with me.”

I rolled my eyes again, then repositioned my body to throw another punch. Swiping some hair that kept falling in front of my face, I reached for the band on my arm to tie it but stopped as Briggs let the pillow fall to the floor.

“Let me,” he said. I cocked a questioning brow at him. “Your hands are wrapped. It’s going to be a little hard. So, let me.”

I flexed my hands at my sides, noting that my fingers could move just fine, but passed him the band anyway as he held out his hand. His fingers were gentle as he combed through my hair and gathered the strands at the nape of my neck, smoothing the hair along the top with extra care.

“Where did you learn to tie hair?” My grandfather struggled when I was young and always passed the job on to my grandmother. A lot of men had no clue how to tie up hair, apparently. But Briggs did.

He tugged on my ponytail, pulling my gaze to the ceiling. “I know how to tie up a lot of things.” His fingers moved from my hair and trailed over the top of my exposed shoulders, his thumbs digging in to gently massage the muscles around my neck. I loosed a breath, trying not to groan at the sensation. Which became a lot harder as he bent in to brush his lips along my neck, kissing each of the fading marks he’d left before. “Are you still mad at me, baby?” His hands smoothed over the bruises dotting my upper arm before he bent to kiss there, too.

“Yes,” I lied.

He chuckled, the warmth of his breath making goosebumps form on my skin. “Do you want to keep punching, or do you want to release that tension in another way?”

I gulped. “I uh…” I paused for longer than I should have, losing all train of thought as Briggs pushed his body against my back, his erection firm and demanding. And then he pulled back, walked around to the front of me, and picked the pillow back up.

I frowned deeply.

“Let’s play a game.” He patted the pillow and I fixed my stance to throw a punch I didn’t feel like throwing anymore. My body had quickly turned from hot-tempered to hot-and-bothered.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked breathlessly.

“Throw three good punches in a row, and I’ll remove a piece of my clothing,oryou can ask another question. Your choice. If your punches are thrown wrong, or you miss the pillow or fumble in your position, you have to remove a piece of clothing instead.”

My brows raised. “What, not interested in asking me any questions?”

His eyes traced the lines of my bra and the petal-like curves along the top that dug into my breasts as my chest expanded on a breath. “I can save mine for another time.” There was nothing but pure, raw hunger in the way he was looking at me.

I looked at the wall behind him to catch my breath. “Oh yeah, I forgot. You’ve been following me around. Probably have been tracking my phone like some kind of…” My words died on my tongue as I watched a smirk form on his lips. “You’ve been tracking my phone?!”

He shrugged. “I had to make sure you were safe.”

I blanched back and went right for my phone in my pocket, pulling it out and searching for the shared locations like I had set up with my grandparents. But found nothing. I looked back up at himas he pried my phone from my hands. “You won’t find it, baby. And if you did, I’d just put it right back on there.”

“Are you aware that what you’re doing is essentially stalking?”

His jaw worked at the accusation. “I’m not stalking you, Rose. I’m making sure no one can harm what’s mine.”

“Who the hell would want—”

“Your ex-best friend, for one, as he just proved. Had I not been tracking your phone, I wouldn’t have known where you were. So before you accuse me of being in the wrong, maybe consider what could have happened had I not been watching where you went.” I swallowed and watched as he moved to put my phone on the bench, then returned with the pillow at the ready. “Be mad if you want. But that tracker stays. And if you do find it and get rid of it, I won’t stop at simply putting it back on there. I’ll put one in your body and you can be just like your actual friend, Jasmine. Do you understand?”

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