A Kiss Of Love

7

Kiran

"Now, would you look at you!" Blake came dancing into my living room out of nowhere.

I couldn't get up or move because Rose asked me if she could watch a movie. I almost threw her out of the window for that question. Not literally, but mentally. Instead of just saying yes, then following it up by telling her—once again—to not ask me about shit like that, I said we could watch one together if that was okay with her.

After all, I was supposed to get used to her, wasn't I? I mean, I guess I had about the rest of my life for it, but it was better earlier than too late, right?

Anyway, she fell asleep. Not on the other side of my enormous sofa. On top of me. Alright, she wasn't lying on top of me but leaned against me. But I figured that was uncomfortable and I didn't want her waking up with a kink in her neck, so I carefully laid down on the sofa, pulled her up my body and held her tightly to me.

I didn't think that one through though. Every time she moved in her sleep and her thigh brushed over my crotch, I had to refrain from groaning. I was about to fucking die, had she moved one more time.

And fuck, Rose was so innocent in every way imaginable. Knowing that was tempting me to rectify the matter, corrupt her. I hated myself for wanting it. Rose deserved better than to get tainted by me.

I told myself I wasn't going to kiss her until the kiss would mean something, but now it had been eight days since Rose moved in and I was losing it. I wasn't sure what the fuck was happening to me, and I couldn't tell if I was okay with it or not.

Every morning since she moved in, Rose had made breakfast for us, knowing fully well that I had a chef to do it. And still, she woke up extra early to cook. And every morning she cooked, I wasn't sure if I wanted to kiss the fuck out of her, or fuck her nine ways to Sunday.

When she got ready to go out with friends or do whatever she did when I was at work, and she put on that stupid red lipstick of hers, I couldn't help but imagine having stains of that same coloured lipstick all over the collar of my white shirt, or my fucking skin.

I wanted her so badly, but I couldn't have her. Not like this. Not yet.

But the most fucked up part about this all was, the more time I spent with Rose, the less opposed I was to the idea of getting her pregnant. I did, however, tell myself that this thought came from having known I'd have to get her pregnant soon-ish and I was just adjusting. Definitely not because having a child together bounded her to me in ways a marriage couldn't. That would have been insane.

"Can't you see she's asleep?" Ella slapped a hand to her husbands shoulder. "Be quiet for once."

Blake chuckled. "I thought you didn't get along very well," he said a little quieter than before. "That doesn't look like 'we don't get along.'"

"I never said we didn't." At least not that I could remember saying it. Why would I anyway? Rose and I got along well. Sometimes it was a little awkward, which, so I assumed, was normal given that we were both thrown into this relationship from one day to another. Kind of.

Blake nodded, kept a grin on his face. He then pushed a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a red velvet ring box. "I picked it up, like you asked."

Right. Unlike what I had initially planned, I did choose the ring myself and didn't send anyone to just buy one. However, I had it customised a little and they needed a couple of days to finish the ring.

"What time is it?" I asked, suddenly remembering that I was supposed to attend my mother's ball around eight. I never knew what the balls she hosted were about, all I knew was that I'd be a couple hundred thousand dollars lighter.