Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

Nathan steps through a doorway, pulling me into his bedroom.

It’s made up of neutrals. Tans and greens and real wood furniture.

It’s calming and classy and so Nathan that it makes my heart ache.

The door slams behind us, followed a second later by another loud meow.

“He’ll watch if I let him in.”

It takes me a second to understand his meaning.

He’s talking about the cat.

But I don’t have time to laugh because Nathan is here.

In front of me.

Facing me.

And his eyes are filled with fire.

“I want you naked, Rosie.” He reaches for the button of my pants. “I want every stitch of clothing off you.”

The bedroom has the same dim light filtering through the windows as the rest of the home, so I swallow down my insecurities and grip the hem of my shirt.

I pull it up and over my head while Nathan unzips my pants.

He pushes them down over the swell of my hips, and they drop to the floor, pooling around my feet.

In my bra and thong, I reach for Nathan. “I want to see you too.”

He’s staring at my chest.

“Nathan—”

He grips my hips for balance, then lowers himself to his knees.

He grunts, and I don’t know if it’s from kneeling on the hardwood floors or from the way his jeans are bulging, which can’t be comfortable.

“I don’t know where to start,” he murmurs.

But he lied, because a heartbeat later, he has his face pressed into my cleavage.

His lips open, and I feel his hot mouth on my skin.

The hands on my hips apply pressure as they move up my sides and around to my back.

Expert fingers undo my bra, and he yanks the material off my body.

And then warm lips close around one of my nipples.

His groan vibrates through my body, and I grip his hair to steady myself.

Then he sucks. Hard.

And wetness coats the inside of my panties.

His big hands move everywhere.