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"I thought guys are supposed to get ready quicker than us girls?" Rosetta quipped, smirking smugly as she caught Ollie's eyes in the mirror.
She was sat on her bed, slipping her feet into her heeled, black knee-high boots while her vanity chair was selfishly taken over by the Englishman absorbed in his hair-gelling ritual. Although, she could never, and would never complain at the sight of his bare torso—a view reserved exclusively for her. His freckled skin was a canvas bathed in the gentle glow of the vanity lights, painted with the dips and swells of the sculpted muscles within his lean frame.
"I started a lot later than you, Paperotta, so it's not that I'm slow," he reasoned, "you just finished a lot earlier than I'd anticipated."
"Sure," she chuckled, "whatever helps you sleep at night."
As Ollie rose from the vanity chair, Rosetta's gaze lingered on the button-up shirt he was reaching for. It was a gift from Rosetta—one she had borrowed from her father's wardrobe because a certain someone wanted to match her all-black attire for their night out to the seaside. And all he had was a loose black T-shirt, which, in his mind, might not have been the perfect fit for her dolled-up state.
She sauntered towards him as he pulled the sleeves of his shirt up his toned arms, her hand delicately found its way to his exposed chest. She could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat quicken under her touch, and his abdominal muscles tensed beneath her fingertips.
Under the soft, radiant glow of her bedroom's warm lamplight, Ollie's rich, cocoa-coloured eyes locked onto Rosetta's, their depths an inviting, unexplored realm. As she leaned closer, her heart quickened, and she felt as though she was an explorer lost in the warm, inviting expanse of his gaze. Her breath danced over his lips in a gentle whisper of invitation in the quiet room.
He moved in, his lips meeting hers in a featherlight kiss. A playful smile played at the corners of his mouth, and she could feel his warm smug grin as he pressed his lips gently against hers.
"When did you grow so tall?" he quirked an eyebrow, amusement etched strongly onto his smoothly-deep voice.
Her eyes were blown wide, and Rosetta backed away from him immediately with a sting of offence prickling within her like the relentless heat of a desert oasis. Her bottom lip jutted out, face dropping into a frown as she delivered a light-hearted slap to his chest.
"Bastard," she grunted, "I'm not short, I'm just Italian."
"Yeah, sure." He laughed.
With a sleek tug on her wrist, Ollie pulled her back into his arms, his hand gripping her by the waist while his lips collided against hers with a firm claim. She groaned into his mouth, upset at herself for how much she liked the feeling of his assertiveness in their intimate dance. The world around them faded away, and she lost herself in the intoxicating taste of him as they kissed with abandon, exploring each other's souls with every tender movement.
