Alex

Chapter Four

Alex

"So you like her?" Aries was quick to ask.

I thought about it. "No, I don't." I shook my head.

"So you kissed her because..." He asked, trailing off.

"Because I wanted to," I answered, honestly. "Why did you come here? What do you want?"

He shrugged carelessly. "Just wanted to make sure Rosie was okay. Seems like she's more than okay." He teased.

"Do you like her or something?" I was exasperated, annoyed with the interrogation he was giving me.

"I do like her. She's beautiful and I'd love to get to know her, but seems like I might not be the Grayson brother she's interested in."

I didn't even know why I kissed her. I was just telling myself that I wouldn't touch her, kiss her, or fuck her. Yet the first moment we were alone, I kiss her. I couldn't hold back, couldn't control myself, as she sat there looking all flustered as I tended to her cut.

I couldn't ignore how pouty her lips looked, or how sad her eyes seemed. I just had to kiss her. I didn't expect her to kiss me back, but fuck, she did. She was greedy yet obedient. She was sweet, her tongue ravenous for more. It wasn't even the kiss that got me hard.

It was the dirty moans that tumbled out of her lips that got me hard as a fucking rock. Goddamn. I took off my glasses, throwing them on the table as I ran my fingers through my hair. I tugged on them harshly and let out a breath of air.

This would never happen again. Rosie and I didn't work. We led different lives, had different views on life, and we hated each other.

It didn't make sense. I hated her yet I never wanted to stop kissing her. I hated yer yet I couldn't stop thinking about the sounds she made, how soft her lips were, and how I craved to see her naked and moaning beneath me.

Would she be as obedient as she was when I took her lips, or would she have an attitude? Would she be bratty and not take my commands or would she obey me prettily? I wanted her to be both. I wanted that fire attitude she had, I wanted that sass, and I wanted her to obey me.

I wanted to praise her, touch her, memorize every curve and line of her body, kiss every nook and cranny, and taste the heaven between her legs. I wonder if she's ever had an orgasm before or if she's faked it her whole life.

I wonder if she'd be as sweet as her mouth or a bit stronger. I tortured myself with my thoughts and images of Rosie. I thought I was going to explode with the thought of how she tasted and how she let me kiss her.

She shouldn't have. She should have pushed me away. She should have slapped me and at that thought of her hitting me, I grew harder. I was sick in the head, too fucked up there, yet I didn't care because it'd never happen again.

I'd have her in my dreams, in my fantasies, and I'd imagine her face, her sounds, her name when I'm with another woman because being with Rosie was dangerous and off-limits. The days that passed by felt longer than usual.

The days were shorter, yet the nights felt longer. I knew it was because Rosie's shifts started at night, and I was stalking her from my spot. She used to always stop and look my way, but she stopped. I knew she could feel me watching her, but she didn't look up or even seem uncomfortable as she spoke with the customers.

She was her usual laughing and teasing self and I hated that she seemed okay. She usually was so easy to read, but after that kiss, I couldn't for the fucking life of me get a read on her. She seemed fine, not tense, and not frustrated like me. I told myself I was being too pathetic, and that I needed to back off.