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“Because I have a different kind of sparring in mind, and it doesn’t include clothes.”

She arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Are we talking nightcaps?”

“Lots and lots of nightcaps.”

“Give me five minutes to shower, and we can leave.”

“What about dinner?” I ask.

“Food’s overrated.”

I bark out a laugh. “How about I go across the street and grab some sushi for us while you shower and change?”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“I have a feeling you’re going to need all the sustenance, sweetheart.”

“Did you forget I run marathons for fun?”

“I can hold my own as well,” I admit.

“Good to hear,” she retorts.

I release her, giving that sweet arse a playful slap as she turns to walk away. My eyes immediately shift to the fuckers still standing around gawking.

I hold their gaze, one after the other, letting the silence stretch. I don’t say a word; I don’t need to. One hard look and the message is clear. Find someone else to look at because that woman is off-limits.

I’m standing on the sidewalk outside Roundhouse when Rose steps out. Her short dark hair is still wet from her shower, and she smells divine. She’s dressed in what I presume she wore to work today, but since I didn’t go into the office, I never got to see her until now.

Rose has always done it for me, no matter what she wears. But now that I have a hint of what lies beneath all that fabric, my imagination is having a fucking field day.

Who needs dinner when I’ve got her to feast on?

I’m holding two bags laden with an assortment of sushi. I wasn’t sure what she liked, so I played it safe and got a bit of everything.

I reach for her with my free hand, lacing our fingers together as I lead her back to my car. I’ve had to keep my hands to myself for far too long. In the past month, we’ve gone from strangers on a sham date, to work colleagues, to whatever the hell this is.

I’m not stalling or backpedalling anymore. I’m done pretending there’s nothing between us when we both know there is. I’ve got her now, and I’m damn well keeping her.

When we reach the car, I open the passenger-side door for her and reach in to grab the brown paperback sitting on the seat. “I bought a bottle of wine on my way here,” I say, sliding it under my arm.

“For me?”

“For us?”

“You drink wine?”

“Occasionally. Usually when I’m with Violet and my Mum.”

“What’s your Mum like?”

“She’s great. You can meet her this Sunday. It’s her birthday and Violet and I are taking her to lunch. I want you to come.”

“You do?” she asks completely surprised.

“Yes, Rose.”

“Okay, sounds nice.” I’m struck by how quickly she’s become someone I can’t imagine not having in my life. We’ve gone from zero to a hundred in a matter of days, and somehow, it doesn’t feel rushed. It feels right. “Is the wine our pseudo-nightcap?”