Krista Ritchie - Kiss the Sky

I casually walk towards her. “So you’ve learned politics, philosophy, French, business and fashion at Princeton, but clearly you were a little slow in your dormitory studies. Penn would have served you better.”

She glares. “Why? Because your college was filled with juvenile horndogs?”

I ease behind her, and she stares at me questioningly through the mirror. Approaching Rose Calloway is like nearing a sleeping tiger. Every single time there’s a chance she’ll bite me. “No,” I whisper, pulling the collar of her robe to expose more of her neck. “Because I was there.” I press my lips lightly to her nape.

And her whole body trembles. Just as my hands fall to the slip of her robe, she spins towards me and places her hands on my chest. Normally I’d back up, but I stand my ground. Right here. Not moving to her demands.

I raise my palms and then clasp my hands behind my back, showing that I won’t touch her anymore. But if she wants to curl her hair, she’s going to have to do it with me—naked—behind her.

“Back up,” she says.

“If I really thought you wanted me to, I would.”

“I do.” But curiosity glimmers in her yellow-green eyes, and she peers down at my cock for the first time.

She remains stoic, almost unreadable, but the corner of her lip betrays her, rising in a fraction of a smile. When she meets my gaze again, I tilt my head, grinning in satisfaction, the kind that only incites her.

She holds up a warning finger at me. “Don’t you dare say do you like what you see? I will break up with you right here if you utter those fucking stupid words.”

I laugh into a wider grin and say, “I don’t have to ask you, Rose. I already know you do.”

She pushes me lightly in the chest and tries not to share my smile. “Why am I with you? You’re so conceited, arrogant—”

“Narcissistic,” I add, “attractive, lovable, brilliant.”

“That wasn’t an invitation for you to compliment yourself.”

“No? My bad, I thought we were listing my best qualities.”

Her eyes fall again.

“Yes, my cock is most definitely one of them.”

Rose crosses her arms, which shifts her robe, exposing the top of her breast. My body heats at the sight of her smooth skin, her nipple very close to peeking from the black fabric.

“Put your cock away,” she tells me.

“You’re not with me because I’m a doormat,” I remind her. “If you want to walk all over a man, you should have chosen Lewis Jacobson.”

She gags. “God, don’t even. He stared at every girl’s ass when he jogged onto court.” He was a point guard for Princeton—the type of guy who would love to be controlled by Rose.

“Just remember that I’m not going to bend to your will.”

“But you’re waiting for me to bend to yours?” she snaps.

“And now we’re at our five hundredth standstill.” I run a hand through my wet hair, pushing the strands back, and her chest rises again at the motion. “Two cooks in the kitchen.”

“Two dominants, no submissive,” she adds.

I shake my head and try to tone down my grin that is really, really riling her to a bad point. She looks like she’s going to slap me. “No,” I say.

She gapes. “What do you mean no? My metaphor matched yours!”

She doesn’t realize it yet, but she’s nowhere near dominant in bed. It’s a reason why she’s slamming on the brakes. She’s so in control of her everyday life that she expects the same once she straddles a man. But if she truly wanted that, she’d be attracted to a much different guy than me and she’d already have lost her virginity, riding the fuck out of him.

“I think we both know there’s only one dominant here.”

Her eyes flare. “Take it back, Richard.”

I want to make her feel as confident and strong inside the bedroom as she is outside. It’s a goal that Scott Van Wright won’t steal from me, even if he tries.

“Take back the truth?” I frown. “That’d make me a liar. And I know how much you hate liars, hun.” My hands are still behind my back, but I step towards her.

She grips the sink counter behind her and reaches over to grab a towel. She shoves it at my chest.

I haven’t lost yet.

I wrap the cloth around my waist. It hangs low so she has view of my defined muscles. I make time for the gym with Loren and his half-brother, but I’ve always been in good shape. I grew up wanting to reach the peak of physical and mental perfection. It’s an unattainable goal. But one I set. One I seek.

People hope to touch the sky.

I dream of kissing it.

Rose spins back towards the sink. She uses the iron to curl loose waves in her straight hair. Most men would be scared of her—gripping a hot weapon. My cock begins to throb as I watch her through the mirror.

She breathes heavily, trying not to pay attention to me, but it’s a little difficult. I’m six-foot-four. I’m twice her size. She’s small, feminine in comparison to my body that could cloak her easily.

She swallows and says, “Do you think Lily and Loren are having more sex than usual?”

Anytime Lily and Lo’s sex life arises, it closes the door to discuss ours. It’s a ploy, a simple distraction, but Rose is also truly invested in her sister’s recovery. She cares. I do as well, but Rose will always be my number one priority.

“They’re touching more than usual,” I say. “But I think it’s more for the camera’s benefit.”

“He’s teasing her, and she’s going to regress…after all the progress she’s made.”

“You have to trust him.”

She cringes at the idea of putting faith in Loren Hale. They only tolerate each other for Lily’s sake. I’m in a difficult position because I’ve grown to like Lo as a real friend.

“I need a favor,” she suddenly says.

“Favors,” I muse with a smile. “It’ll cost you.”

“I knew being your girlfriend wouldn’t have many perks. I still owe you things.”

“You have plenty of perks,” I tell her. “You just choose not to delight in them.” I edge close to her, setting a hand on the counter, my mouth near her neck as I lean in low. She tenses as my hand dips to her thigh. “What favor do you need?” I ask, slipping my palm beneath her robe.

“I’m going to burn you,” she says, not as a threat. Fear spikes in her voice. She unplugs the curling iron quickly and sets it aside.

I bite her ear and whisper, “Breathe.”

She barely exhales. “I need you to give Lo the talk.”

I hunch over, resting my chin on her shoulder for a second. My expression stays complacent, composed—the face I carry with me throughout the day, the one Rose calls “fake.”

“I think we’re past that talk, Rose.”

She glowers, her entire body responding to the emotion. Her eyes narrow, her stance closes, her shoulders pull back, forcing me to straighten up.

I almost get hard.

“Don’t patronize me,” she says. “Lo’s going to get my sister pregnant on accident. He’s impulsive and careless. So you need to do what you do best and instill some common sense into him.”

“I imagine that conversation blowing over as well as a hurricane.” I twirl her by the waist so she leans against the counter, facing me. “So it’s going to cost you.”

She peruses my body with a sharp gaze. “I’m prepared to pay.”

My lips slowly rise. “Are you?”

“Yes.” But her eyes speak differently, and my smile fades. She’s really, truly scared.

“You’re safe with me, you know that, Rose?” I ask her. “I won’t ever hurt you.” I’ve always treated her like she’s an extension of myself.

The more hostile, torrid side—that is.

It’s a reason I’ve become so possessive of her throughout the years, even when we weren’t together.