Page 43 of The Date

“Ha,” I scoff.

“Don’t worry, I think your best friend only has eyes for your sister.”

That comment has me rearing back. “What?”

She lifts one shoulder. “I could be seeing something that isn’t there, but I don’t think I am.”

“They’re close, that’s all. They’ve known each other forever. He’s practically like a brother to her.”

“Maybe,” she says, dipping a piece of sushi into the sauce and bringing it to her mouth.

I’m still frowning, completely caught off guard by her comment. That can’t be true.

Can it?

Chapter 15

Rose

Despite the abundance of food Bronson bought, we managed to get through most of it and the bottle of wine. I’m now full and slightly buzzed, and excited to see where things go from here.

We’ve gone from the barstools to the sofa, but Bronson still hasn’t made a move. Did I overstep with my comment about his best friend and sister? It was just my observation; I could be wrong, but my spidey senses tell me I’m not.

I shift closer, our thighs brushing, and Bronson’s eyes drop to my mouth. That’s all the warning I get. His arm slides around my waist, and he tugs me against him. I barely have time to catch my breath before his lips find mine.

Our kiss is in no way soft or sweet. It’s desperate, raw, and so damn hot. “Fuck, Rose,” Bronson groans into my mouth as he guides me back into the cushions and settles on top.

This damn skirt I’m wearing is constrictive, so I can’t even part my legs and get the friction I’m desperately craving.

His mouth moves to pepper kisses along my jawline as his hand glides over the outside of my leg, the curve of my hip, and under the hem of my blouse. I arch my back and whimper as soon as he gropes my boob through my bra.

“Fucking hell.” Squawk. “You dirty bastard.” Squawk.

Bronson buries his face in the crook of my neck and chuckles.

This bird! Talk about a mood killer. I’m confident his previous owners got so sick of his antics they left the window open on purpose, allowing him to escape. It’s probably why nobody ever claimed him, despite the gazillion flyers Mum put up.

“Do you want to move this to my room?” I ask.

“Good idea,” he answers as he pushes himself up from the lounge and stands, offering me his hand. “If he thinks I’m a dirty bastard for that, I’m concerned how he’ll react when he sees what I do next.”

I let out a laugh as he bends his knees, wraps his arms around my upper thighs and tosses me over his shoulder. I gasp when his flattened palm connects with my arse. “Ouch.”

“Where’s your room, sweetheart?”

“Last door at the end of the hall.”

“Show us your tits.” Squawk.

“Fuck off, bird,” Bronson growls. “They’re for my eyes only.”

A goofy smile tugs at my lips at his words. I’m kind of fond of his possessive side.

When we reach my bedroom, he carries me inside, using the heel of his shoe to kick the door closed behind him. My body slides down the front of his as he lowers me onto my feet.

He doesn’t even take the opportunity to look around my space; his hooded eyes remain fixed on mine.

“Where were we, my sweet Rose … like the flower?” he murmurs as he backs me against the wall.