Rosa

Chapter 5

The man's eyes, those dark, dark, hypnotic eyes, didn't leave hers as he stripped off his clothes one by one.

Rosa's skin felt flushed and tingly, but she couldn't seem to drag her eyes away from him.

His black wool blazer dropped to the ground first. His white dress shirt—probably Armani judging by the fit and cut—disappeared next to reveal bronzed bare skin, a broad, well-defined chest, chiseled biceps, and a perfectly sculpted stomach. He rose from the chair then, topless, glorious, like a Roman god to her worshipping gaze.

His large hands then drifted towards his tapered waist. He began unhooking his black leather belt. Slowly and a little suspiciously, he reached behind his back for something.

Was the fucker reaching for a gun?

Rosa readied her finger on the trigger of her Beretta.

Just in case.

She wasn't surprised when a holster and a gun, previously hidden from sight, came into view.

Realigning the barrel of her Beretta to his forehead, Rosa barked at him, "Lay your weapon on the floor. Kick it to me."

To her relief, the man did exactly as she commanded, emptying the magazine before setting his pistol on the ground. He used the bottom of his shoe to slide it towards her, and, as the gun came close enough for inspection, Rosa realized that he was also carrying a Beretta.

92 series model.

9 millimeter barrel.

Military grade.

Manufactured in Italy.

She praised his weapon of choice, "Nice."

Begrudgingly, Rosa had to admit, this fucker was a man of taste because she happened to own the exact same gun. Highly reliable and accurate, the Beretta 92 was one of her favorites. The only downside was that its weight and size made it somewhat trickier to conceal and carry.

"Grazie," the man thanked her. His gaze floated towards her gun. "You and I may be more similar than we thought..."

It appeared he had noticed her Beretta as well.

Observant bastard.

"Do you trust me now?" he asked.

Rosa cocked an eyebrow in his direction. "Not until you take off your pants."

His jaw ticked. "Is it necessary to remove them? You already know I am unarmed."

She waved her gun at him, insisting, "Do I know for sure, though? What if you are hiding a switchblade down there? Pants off. Now."

He scowled deeply.

But, with a quick 'zip,' he undid his black wool trousers. Within the next second, he was standing before her in nothing but his black boxer briefs. As far as she could tell, there was no other weapon on his person.

Discreetly, her eyes flicked towards his crotch for the briefest of seconds.

The man's boxer briefs didn't hide much. His cock wasn't even hard, but there was a prominent and definitive bulge between his legs. It appeared this man had been packing in a different way as well.

Damn.

She quickly averted her gaze.

"Are you satisfied with what you see?" the man asked with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

There seemed to be a double meaning tucked within his question.

She cooed softly, "Oui."

There had definitely been a double meaning embedded in her reply: She liked that he was in a state of helplessness. She also liked what she saw of his god-like body. Maybe a little too much.