Since she was a young girl Rose Duvall had been on her own. From the time that she was just six years old all that she could remember was the trauma and abuse. She never knew love, companionship. She knew what it was supposed to look like, but never...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rose's P.O.V
I woke up the next day when the clock in the corner struck noon, my locks sprawled out around me after the best night's sleep I had in years. Groggy but refreshed I got out of the bed, quietly creaking open the door of the room. Instantly my nose was met with the most delicious smell of coffee and bacon.
Peaking my head out the door I saw Ace's broad back facing me as he tended to something on the stove. He had put on a black tee , and denim jeans, and through the tight fabric I could see his muscles protruding from underneath. I wasn't sure which was more mouthwatering.
Tiptoeing into the kitchen, my eyes scanning for Archer, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"He went out for a bit. Should be back soon." I jumped at Ace's voice, unaware that he had heard me enter the room.
As if on cue a door opened from above, lighting up the staircase that I hadn't yet been on. Heavy footsteps descended down the steps. Every creak that sounded from the staircase was echoed by a loud thud of my heart, it was almost painful.
When the most brooding brother entered the room I swallowed a large lump that I hadn't quite realized had formed in my throat. My eyes darted from his breathtaking blue orbs to the tight-fitting white shirt that clung to his body. Each crease and indent highlighted his bulging muscles. Easily, I could have wasted the day admiring each feature on this tall blonde man, but my mind traveled to last night, and decided that it was best if I averted my gaze.
"Hey." A deep husky voice sounded from in front of me, the tone uncharacteristically soft.
Two large calloused fingers made their way to my chin, gently lifting it up, baiting me to swim in the world's most dangerous ocean. There was no mistaking the electrifying warmth that came from his touch, or the exhilaration that rattled my bones.
"I apologize for yesterday, but it's not what you think." I furrowed my brows. His hand remained cupping my chin as he went on.
"I just couldn't stand the thought of someone treating you like that."
I noticed how close we were, his fresh breath fanning me.
It could have been from the hindrance of emotions, or maybe just the straight fact that I had two extremely attractive heroes currently at my disposal that my untouched hormones were raging over. Either way I couldn't deny the vivid image that drew my eyes to his inviting lips.
Swallowing, I pulled back from his touch, slowly backing away, putting just enough distance between us so that my thoughts once again became my own.
Suddenly finding interest in a heavily detailed oil painting of a ship in the corner of the room I pretended not to notice the way that his hand fell reluctantly beside him.
There was something about his very presence that invoked fear the moment that he entered the room. But a much more untouched sensation that he brought forth is what truly terrified me.
