Page 19 of Bottle Rocket
“Like what?”
“Star Wars, maybe.Game of Thrones. I don’t know. I don’t watch scripted TV and hardly go to the movies.”
“But you do watchunscripted TV?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I love reality shows. If a contestant gets voted out or there’s a panel of judges or it’s a race—I’m in. I’ve auditioned forSurvivorthree times.”
Rosie scrambled up onto her knees in order to see him better. “No way. That is awesome.”
“Not too awesome, seeing as they won’t cast me. I’m guessing they don’t want a castaway who draws dicks for a living.”
“You do more than that, and you know it,” she said. Leo had always diminished his dreams and played up his self-deprecation.
“I do.” His voice was serious. He ran a finger, almost absently, over the cusp of her shoulder. The touch made her nipples hard behind the flimsy fabric of her bra. “Thank you.”
The hobby thing was a lost cause at the moment. She grabbed his chin between her forefinger and thumb. His whole body stilled. It was exhilarating, the way he reacted to her, to a little forcefulness.
“Those things you said, when you were drawing me—the things you want me to do to you—were you just talking out of your ass, or is that stuff you’d be into?”
His sexy mouth tipped up on one side, his dimple winking. “I wasn’t lying.”
“I need to make a list,” she said. She was practical. She loved lists. Maybe she should admit that her biggest passion in life was stationery and get it over with.
“Hmmm. Kiss me first, Rosie.”
She let a smile trip over her mouth. “Ask me nicely.”
“Please. Please, kiss me.” Desperation leaked into his voice. That tenor of need flipped a switch in her.
She clutched his hair in a fist—praise God for his hipster haircut—and tilted his head back before crashing her mouth against his. He gasped, his eyes fluttering closed helplessly. She nipped along his full bottom lip, being rougher than she normally would have been. Leo’s body was a small-scale implosion beneath her. He locked tight, his muscles clenching, but then trembles shook through him. She shuffled forward to be fully in his lap and tightened the grip on his hair.
She let her tongue dance over his lip piercing. He whined and opened his mouth wider, so she dove in, taking control of the kiss, of his lips and tongue and teeth. Their kiss tasted of sugary snow cones and her pussy, and it was honestly the hottest kiss of her entire fucking life. His hands were everywhere on her, and her hands were on his throat and in his hair, anchored there. It was amazing.
Landon had never kissed her like this.
The thought jarred her and set off a burst of panic in her chest.
She hadn’t kissed another man in years. She hadn’t kissed anyone since Landon, and she was so pissed that he was anywhere near her brain. She pulled back.
Leo gazed up at her with a dazed expression. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I was too in my head. I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” Leo reached up and cradled her face between his palms. “No apologies.”
She nodded and turned her head to kiss his palm. She had all thesefeelingspushing at her. Her chest was tight and her pulse fluttery. Her brain felt like a Roman candle, shooting off emotions in blazing fireballs before they fizzled out, unnamed and unrealized. At the forefront was love, but she had no idea if it was legitimate. Did she reallyloveLeo Whittaker?
She’d loved him at eighteen. Those feelings had faded into imperceptibility, but they were currently rearing their ugly heads. Was itlovelove, though, or just an echo of it? She was worried that she was simply vulnerable, and this was the first time a man had been kind to her in forever.
Love had never done anything for her except leave her in the dust, choking on fumes. Leo had been the first but not the last. No reason to trust her emotions now. No reason to have them.
It didn’t matter much. This thing between her and Leo was nothing but a six-day-long fuckfest (if she had her say).
“List,” she said. “List now, kissing later.”
Leo’s eyes were full of soft understanding, which was embarrassing. Rosie crawled off his lap, and he retrieved a pad of paper and a pencil. Not the ones he’d used to sketch her. The picture of her was on the other bench seat. She was ignoring it. She wasn’t ready to see it yet.
“Okay, Rosie. Hit me with your list.”
