"I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Rosa said.
"Just say the word. I'm happy to take you home any time."
Rosa shot him a suspicious look, as though she could smell the deception; Philip would not be happy to take her home and would do anything short of forcible kidnapping to keep her here in Columbus for the night, including tell a small and harmless white lie.
While she hovered in the doorway of the deluxe hotel suite— very nice, if he did say so himself, with black-and-white furniture, red ottomans, an oversized marble bathroom and even a gleaming black baby grand in front of the 20th floor view of the glittering skyline—he walked to the open door of the first bedroom and gestured to the enormous king-sized bed.
"Your bedroom." He walked across the suite and pointed to another door. "My bedroom. Perfectly safe."
Tightening her arms across her chest, Rosa glanced first at him, then the table overloaded with food, and then the fully stocked wet bar, where he planned to make her an amaretto sour at the first opportunity in the hopes that she would relax. "I don't have any toiletries or clothes for tomorrow."
"Lucille sent along a few things for you." His lips twitched with the effort not to smile. "I told her we might be late tonight."
"Lucille will be ejected from my house first thing tomorrow morning."
Laughing, he walked to the table, sat down and helped himself to some champagne. Then he systematically explored the covered platters and discovered filet mignon with a blue cheese sauce and sautéed mushrooms, roasted new potatoes and Caesar salad. "I hope you don't mind if I eat while you fret. Let me know what you decide about going home."
She grunted and didn't budge from her shadowy post by the door.
"This looks good. You should get some while it's hot." He took a break from loading his plate only long enough to sip the champagne, which was crisp and delicious. "Or did you ruin your appetite with Twizzlers and popcorn?"
There seemed to be a slight un-squaring of her shoulders, as though she’d begun to relax. "Thank you for taking me to the movie. I can't believe you went to all this trouble. I've had the best time."
Philip froze, his rumbling stomach forgotten, because all these compliments couldn't be a good thing. “Is that your please-take-me-home kiss-off?"
She hesitated and then said, very softly, "No."
The husky note in her voice made Philip’s heart stumble to a complete stop. He waited, too scared to breathe, too excited to blink, to see what would happen next.
Emerging from the dark alcove into the mellow light from the nearest lamp, Rosa did something that surprised the hell out of him: she began to unbutton her blouse.
Philip couldn’t believe his eyes. "Oh, my God."
Holding his gaze—a nuclear strike couldn’t have made him look away now—Rosa kept walking and kept unbuttoning until finally, ten feet away, she dropped the blouse to the floor in a slither of silk.
Philip gaped at the bounty before him, the only one he’d ever wanted.
She’d revealed gleaming brown shoulders, a taut belly framed by curvy hips, and two aroused breasts whose dark nipples strained against the sheer black bra, and she was just about killing him.
“Rosa. ”
Her dewy lips curled into a woman's knowing smile and his urgent body hardened completely in response.
And then she went to work on her jeans.
He was dry-mouthed by the time she'd shimmied out of them. He stared at the triangle thatch of hair that was barely hidden by a little scrap of black lace nothing, and, lower, the lush thighs and toned legs, as undone as a teenager glimpsing his first pair of breasts.
She came to stand between his legs and, almost afraid to touch her, to do anything that might make this precious moment implode, he slowly reached out, gripped those satiny hips, buried his face in the plump valley between her breasts and inhaled her.
Rosa, Rosa, Rosa.
He lived for her, breathed for her. His heart pumped only for her. She was every dream he’d ever had, every fantasy, and this reality, this moment, was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
But…he had to ask. Had to make sure. Cursing his own uncertainty— just keep your mouth shut, idiot, just touch her while you can—he raised his head and croaked his question with a hoarse voice he barely recognized as his own.
“What are you doing, Rosa?”
Stroking his hair, she opened her mouth and, with one sentence, gave him everything he'd ever wanted and the only thing he needed.
"I'm making love with you.”
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