I hold her wrist and drag her hand away. “I may need another lesson before tomorrow.” I release her wrist. My hand touches her knee and slides up her thigh, making it to the edge of her skirt before she takes my wrist in turn and tosses my hand aside.
“You’re going to behave because if you don’t, I can just have Kas be my date.”
“I don’t recall us agreeing to be each other’s dates, Minnie.” I place my hand on her knee once more, keeping it there. “And based on your books, we’ll need a chaperone, I need to ask for your favor.”
She giggles, her smile reaching her eyes. “Go ahead then, ask.”
“Minerva…” I swallow. “Shit, what’s your last name?”
She purses her lips, trying to subdue her laughter. “Morris.”
“Minerva Morris, it would be my privilege to escort you–” I reach for her hand, holding it like it could crumble in my palm. “–to that stupid fucking gala.” That laughter she’s been trying to contain escapes, lines forming around her eyes and mouth. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” she agrees. Her fingers wrap around my palm. “I would be delighted by your company. Though, I’m not sure the rest of the guests will agree.”
I pull her to me, leaving no space between us.
“Rosier,” she scolds. “I need sleep. Don’t make me exile you to the couch tonight.” I open my mouth, and she presses a finger to my lips. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”
She hops up, and I watch her walk away, admiring how her thighs brush together in that skirt. Though, it only entertains me for so long before I’m thinking about the gala, about what will happen to us once Minnie is satisfied with her revenge.
Once she’s settled in loose fitting clothing, she grabs a book and flops into bed. I do the same, shedding my clothes and laying beside her with a book. It’s a familiar image, her head resting on my chest with my arm wrapped around her. I could grab her breast. Tug at her pants till she lets me touch her. Beg for her. This, simple as it is, satisfies me, however.
I can still smell her floral scent. Brush against her soft skin. Admire how her lip twitches with glee when she reads a line she likes or how her brows furrow when something has gone awry in her story.
Meanwhile in my own book I read,“Clayton approached Judith, the young heiress shutting her eyes as if such blindness would allow for naivety. His lips met hers in a kiss–”
A kiss.
“Minnie–” I begin, only to find her book resting on her chest and her eyes closed. Dreaming.
With a huff, I set my own book aside, then take hers and do the same, careful not to jostle her from sleep. I hold her to me, hot breath puffing against my neck. Even now she feels so remarkable to me.
If only I knew how to make her mine.
CHAPTERTWENTY
MINNIE
Rosierand I both groan when my alarm starts blaring. Most Saturdays I sleep in, but it’s going to take Amber a few hours to get my hair in gala-ready shape. I actually remembered to wear my bonnet last night–not that it’s my fault a certain someone’s been distracting me recently.
I rub my eyes with my palms, my scalp already stinging as I think about the knots Amber’s going to pick out of my hair. I shut off my alarm.
“Go back to sleep,” I urge Rosier, but he lumbers up and out of bed.
“You need coffee,” he grumbles as he leaves the room.
I’m not going to argue.
I toss on a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, then grab as many of my favorite conditioners and hair accessories as possible and toss them into a tote bag. Rosier already has my coffee in a travel mug. It’s sweet, but I’m still wary about the taste.
“I think Amber will have something for me there,” I tell him.
He frowns.
As soon as I have my hand on the doorknob, Rosier is behind me with his hand on the door. I roll my head back and groan. “I thought we were done with this.”
I know better than to turn and face him but I do it anyway. He still has that face, frowning like a child while his brows are knit in confusion.