Page 27 of Rose's Ripped Van Winkle

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rose

I’m on a high. Energy is coursing through me, swirling and eddying. I feel like shouting or singing or dancing or maybe all three at once. Jubilant, that’s the word.

“My life’s been difficult,” I say, although this isn’t news to him. “I fought hard to survive with my self-esteem intact. Not only living in a cult, but living in a fishbowl. And the lawsuit. That was hell, although most of it was done privately with no cameras present. I settled for less than my attorneys said it was worth. I just wanted to get on with my life, buy this amazing cottage, and begin my new life.”

Sipping my cocoa, I allow the liquor to ease my nerves.

“Then I was on my own, getting used to the solitude and living with my own thoughts. That was another hurdle.”

“And finding a hundred-year-old man in your house. That was probably a piece of cake.” He kisses my cheek, then settles back, giving me space.

Collecting my thoughts, I try to figure out what I want to say.

“I’m attracted to you, Rip. I didn’t need you to protect me from my father, and I don’t need you to protect me from you. Can you trust me to know my own mind?”

I peer at him and see his surprise at my question. His head tips back as my meaning hits him. Then a smile lights his face as though he knows what I’m going to say next.

He listens with an indulgent smile as I say, “I may have only known you a few days, but I’m falling for you. I trust you. And I want you. It’s not the liquor talking when I say I’d like to go into the bedroom and see how we can get that huge monster I glimpsed earlier to fit inside me.”

Hot embarrassment flares on my cheeks, but my gaze doesn’t waver from his.

Slowly, he stands. Then holds out his hand. I slip mine into his and let him pull me up, feeling his warmth and strength as I stand proudly in front of him. His hands lightly caress my face, sending shivers down my spine. After pulling me close for a soft kiss, he leads me by the hand toward the bedroom.

Every step I follow him closer to the bedroom is an opportunity to turn back. But I don’t. The draw of Rip, of release, of safety and heaven in his embrace, propels me forward until we’re standing at the bedroom door.

“I trust you to know your mind. Do you trust me with the most precious thing on the planet? You?” He places soft, smacking kisses against my neck, then pulls me close and wraps his arms around me from behind.

I turn in his embrace and cup his cheeks in my hands.

“Yes,” I whisper before our lips meet in a searing kiss that sends sparks shooting through me.

He steps back and takes my hand, leading me into the bedroom. The moonlight through the blinds paints him with streaks of blue and silver. He’s perhaps even more beautiful this way.

His eyes are bright with desire and his lush lips are slightly parted. We do nothing except gaze at each other until my need swells to the point I can’t resist grabbing him around the neck and standing on my tiptoes to press my lips to his.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close as our kiss deepens. Slipping his hands under my shirt, he caresses my skin until I’m pressing myself against him, my head spinning from the intensity.

The kiss continues until it’s so heady I break away, gasping for air.

After taking a step back, his gaze fixes on my body. His glance slowly roams from my toes to the top of my head. He doesn’t miss an inch and his appreciation is clear. I can feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach, a result of his heated look.

His fingers drift along my sensitive skin as he skims my t-shirt up and over my head, revealing my white, lacey bra.

Letting out a low huff of admiration, he traces circles with his thumbs around each nipple until I arch into his touch.

Bending, he tenderly nips each hardened nub, unerringly finding them despite their being hidden by my bra. Leaning back, he admires the way the moisture exposes the dusky color beneath the fabric.

Finally, he unhooks it and lets it fall. I stand there, trying to ignore the passionate heat radiating from him. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in the world—except my freedom, and I’ve already secured that.

His hands wander lower, skimming over my bare stomach and stopping on the waistband of my shorts. In a swift motion, he slides them down until I’m standing in nothing but a pair of white panties, feeling completely exposed.

My heart races as he looks me up and down one more time, as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

I want him, but I’m still nervous and scared. Though he didn’t ask, I take a deep breath and muster the courage to whisper, “Yes, Rip. I’m sure.”

He lifts me onto the bed, lays me down, and slowly undresses as I watch in silent anticipation. His every move is hypnotic, amplified by the soft light and exotic shadows of the night.

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