Page 106 of Rose
“I want you to feed it to me… with your mouth.”
His voice was low, smoky. Her spine tingled.
Ahzii hesitated, but the heat between them left no room for restraint. She placed the pineapple on her tongue and leaned forward. Savior met her halfway, his mouth covering hers, tongue sliding in to claim the fruit.
But he didn’t stop there.
He kissed her slow and deep, drinking in every drop of pineapple juice she had left. His lips moved with purpose—hungry and intimate—until a moan escaped her throat, soft and uncontrollable.
When he finally pulled away, her eyes were half-lidded, heart racing.
“Your moan is so fucking sexy,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers.
Ahzii laughed, breathless, her lips still tingling. “Still tense?”
“Yeah,” he said, licking his lips slowly. “But you helping.”
She smiled, and he leaned back, his hands now kneading her calves. “Now it’s your turn. Give me a fact about you… something no one knows.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It don’t gotta be deep, right?”
“Ms. No Emotional Attachment?” he teased. “Of course not.”
She rolled her eyes but gave it a moment of thought. “Hmm… I don’t know if people know this, ‘cause I never actually said it out loud, but… I want to open my own art museum one day. Same name as my shop. I want it to showcase my work and feature artists from all over the world.”
As she spoke, her eyes lit up, and Savior didn’t miss it. He watched her like she was the most fascinating piece of art she’d ever dreamt of hanging on those future museum walls.
“Damn,” he said with a smile. “I thought you were gonna go with something basic—like a favorite color or something.”
She laughed. “I think you already know my favorite color.”
“First color, red. Second, black.”
She blinked, surprised. “I was joking. How the hell you know that?”
He smirked. “It’s obvious. Your favorite flower’s a red rose. Your bike and your car are black. I bet your tattoo room, and most of your shop, are decked out in red and black too.”
Ahzii stared at him, then laughed, shaking her head. “Whatever. You only know that ‘cause you a stalker.”
“Nah,” he said, voice smooth. “I’m your man. I pay attention to everything about you.”
“You’re not my man.” She smiled despite herself. “Just a fuck buddy.”
“I love seeing that beautiful smile.” He ignored her words, letting his thumb trace lazy circles on her ankle. “You act like your mouth says one thing, but your body already claimed me.”
She didn’t argue. Not because he was right—but because she didn’t trust herself to say he wasn’t.
“Whatever,” she said, popping a grape into her mouth. “Give me a fact about you.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I’m an assassin. And the dangerous family I work for? It’s my own.”
She stilled, but not from fear—just intrigue.
“You only kill bad people, right?” she asked, her voice cautious but steady.
Savior nodded. “The worst of the worst.”
She nodded too. It tracked. Nothing about him screamed remorse for what he did, but there was purpose behind his violence. Morality, in its own twisted way.
