Page 19 of All Snowed Gin

“Not since I was three. I was raised by Gram and Gramps.”

I haven’t even finished my sentence and Rose is launching herself at me. I manage to catch her with one arm, without spilling any of my hot drink, her arms flying around my neck and squeezing. Every part of me melts from the feel of her against me, wanting to hold her tighter. Damn drink.

She murmurs something against my neck, her warm breath tickling my skin. I can’t make out a word of what she says, so I just nod.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, pulling back.

“You’re not responsible for either of the car accidents that killed them, so…”

“Doesn’t mean my heart doesn’t hurt for you. I miss my family when I go out of town; I can’t imagine having them stolen from me like that.”

Stolen. That they were.

But it’s time for a change of subject.

“Do you like classic movies?” I ask, hoping it’s not too much of a subject change.

“We are Cary Grant Adler and Rose Hobart Adler, so…we were kinda raised on them.” She giggles.

My dick twitches again, loving that noise. It’s an aphrodisiac all on its own.

“So no Cary Grant flicks?”

“Oh no, I love him. Charade is my favorite.”

“Charade coming right up.”

Rose reels back, her face scrunched in confusion. I just laugh, pulling my phone out from my pocket. I tap it a few times, dimming the lights and making a projector screen descend from the ceiling. Rose gasps, grabbing my arm in excitement.

“It’s a smart house!”

“It won’t talk back. But there’s plenty of bells and whistles.” I continue to tap at my phone, pulling up her movie of choice.

“We’re gonna need popcorn!”

She leaps off the couch, heading toward the kitchen. A few minutes later she returns, Gram’s large purple bowl in hand, filled with the buttery snack. I shake my head and she plops back down, snuggling into me. It’s the same bowl Gram used for the same purpose. Almost like Gram led her right to it.

I start the movie, putting my arm around Rose and pulling her closer. I don’t bother with the awkward first date move of pretending to stretch—we’re past that. Which in itself seems weird, since she only showed up on my door yesterday. I can’t explain it, but I somehow feel close to her. Perhaps opening up to her was the right move.

The movie plays on, Rose reciting almost the whole thing line by line. I love that she doesn’t hold back, letting her real self shine. I love it even more that she jumps a tad every time Audrey Hepburn shrieks. Which, in this movie, is a bunch. I take the opportunity to tighten my grip on her each time, saying a little prayer she doesn’t start to pull away.

Thankfully, she doesn’t.

At least until the movie ends, when she shifts in my arms to look up at me. “I don’t want to move.”

“Then we don’t have to.”

“Good. Want to know what I do want to do?”

It’s a trick question, there’s no doubt. So I take a moment to try and come up with some kind of smart-ass answer. Only, I can’t. So I go with a classic.

“Of course.”

“This.”

Slipping a hand behind my neck, Rose pulls me closer, gently placing her lips on mine. Her moves are tentative, borderline shy, like she isn’t sure she should have been so bold. That needs correcting.

I haul her into my lap, deepening the kiss as I go. I want her. And I want her to know that I want her. She whimpers into our kiss, running her hands through my hair, and mine find her ass, squeezing. Her touch lights a fire in me, her sweet kisses stealing all my attention. Her taste is the only thing I can focus on, wanting to commit it to memory. To never lose the lingering scent of lilacs from her hair. My dick surges, wanting in on the action, but I can’t go there. Not yet at least.