Interlude

Chapter 19

Stepping into the entry of his condo, Dev plopped her on the bench. He dropped to his knees, reached for one of her ankles and rested it on his bent thigh. He made a quick work of sliding it out of the elegant heel and proceeded with the other foot. Tossing his own shoes aside, and advanced into the kitchen. As the blood rushed in and the painful tension began to alleviate from her toes, Rose groaned with relief and followed him inside.

"What are you doing?" she asked, flabbergasted, when he reached for the bottle of whiskey and a glass.

"Best cure for headache, drink more." He replied, flippantly, pouring a shot of whiskey. He drained it in one gulp and refilled it, before setting the bottle aside. Carelessly holding his drink, he sauntered into to the living room.

The entire time in the SkyTrain, Rose had attached herself to him, clinging and tugging, making tiny sighs. Every once in a while she would look up from his shoulder and blink.

"Sleepy?" He had asked, pushing locks of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"Not one bit." She smiled, dropping her head on his shoulder again.

There was only so much a man could take. His patience was wearing thin. He needed more alcohol to numb the devil that had gone berserk, inciting him.

'If you kiss her now, you can taste the wine she's been drinking all night.'

She was trailing behind him, shrugging his jacket off her shoulders.

"In that case, I want one too." She said, tossing the garment on one armchair.

"You've had enough." He took a seat on the couch and set the drink aside.

"I'm the one who gets to decide that."

"Sure. But still no." He shook his head at her challenging gaze, reinstating his decision.

She pursed her lip but didn't press further. Her eyes narrowed at him, making some mysterious assessment. He was too tired to pay attention so he simply sat back, closed his eyes, let his body relax.

He should've known better. Her tiny acts of rebellion always began with silence.

He did not hear her approach. He did anticipate being attacked - being smothered really - by this beautiful girl, who had all but leapt across his lap in sneaky effort to grab his glass and drain the whiskey in a quick, easy gulp.

"Oh for fuck sake!" he groaned.

She laughed, the voice bright and uncaring. It was driving him crazy. He grabbed her, and twisted her body over his lap. Her knees sunk into the couch on either side of him, the green dress riding up over her knees. He gripped her waist firmly with unyielding insistence, and jerked her close; her entire front pressed flush against his chest.

It happened so fast, she had no time to process it. One second she had been grinning and in another second her mouth was inches away from his. She lost her breath, her voice and any remaining sense of understanding. Her hands clung to him, helplessly, struggling for support. The broad length of his shoulders felt so solid, it made her quiver inside.

A wisp of air couldn't flow between them.

"I said no." he whispered angrily.

Her eyebrows furrowed. The mirth in those electric blue eyes faded.

"But I wanted to." she breathed, her lips drawn into a soft pout.

Her open admission tugged painfully at his heartstrings. Had she told him then, in that innocent voice of hers, that she wanted to zip-line from the fifty-fifth floor balcony to the liquor store across the street, he knew he would already be on his way to fetch the fucking rope. It made him angrier - this strange power she had over him.