Read Rooter (Double H Romance) Online
Authors: Teiran Smith
When I open my eyes, Rooter is no longer in the bed with me. I roll over to check the time and on the table is a cup of steaming hot coffee and a note:
Stay put. I’ll be right back. R
I pick up the coffee and take a sip. He made it with the perfect amount of my favorite creamer. I close my eyes and inhale the scent. This is heaven.
I’m halfway through my coffee when the bedroom door opens. Rooter carries a tray of food complete with a vase holding a single yellow rose.
Does he know yellow is my favorite?
He sets the tray in the middle of the bed and sits on the other side.
“Good morning.” He smiles and leans in for a kiss.
“Breakfast in bed?” I press my hand to my chest, amazed.
“You like french toast, right?”
“I love it.”
And I think I just fell in love with you.
“Good,” he sounds relieved and holds out a napkin for me.
He’s dressed in a black and red Under Armor outfit making me wonder how long he’s been up. “Have you been up long?”
“Just long enough to make breakfast.” He hands me a fork and takes one for himself.
I cut a piece of the toast which is sprinkled with powdered sugar and topped with the perfect amount of maple syrup. I moan in delight the instant it enters my mouth. “This is delicious.”
We go back and forth taking bites. I love watching Rooter eat. The way his mouth wraps around his fork and the way his strong jaw clenches as he chews. He’s rugged and manly. Everything, and I mean everything, he does is sexy. And he’s mine.
“What do you want to do today?” He asks and wipes his mouth.
“I think I want to try paddle boarding.”
“Okay.” He winks, and it sends a spasm straight to my core.
Good God.
“New rule. You’re not allowed to wink at anyone but me.”
Rooter snickers. “Why?”
“Because it’s ridiculously hot.”
“Oh yeah?” He winks again, and it’s like fire shooting straight to my center.
Holy hell he’s gorgeous.
“Like you don’t know.” As much as he does it, he must know. I cringe at the thought of how many girls he’s gotten into his bed with that wink.
“Where’d you go just then?” He asks, all kidding aside, and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His warm eyes prod into mine.
“Nowhere.” I smile, trying to play it off.
“Don’t lie.” His voice is tender with concern. “You went somewhere, and it didn’t look like a very happy place.”
I hesitate. I can’t bring myself to tell him. “I’d rather not say.”
“Sophie,” he says and curls his fingers around mine, “I want you to be able to talk to me.”
“I know I can talk to you. But sometimes I think things that are really… Stupid.”
“Things like what?”
I sigh and look at the white comforter, too bashful to face him as I speak. “I sometimes find myself jealous of the girls before me.”
I never realized how insecure I am until being with Rooter. I question everything about myself. Am I pretty enough? Funny enough? Smart enough? Am I too tall? Are my boobs too small? What does he see in me?
Rooter tilts my chin up to face him. His expression is thoughtful. “Babe, there’s nothing to be jealous of. There was never anyone before you. It was just…” he trails off.
I nod because I know what he was going to say. It was just
sex.
But that doesn’t make me feel much better.
“Sophie, you’re the only one who has ever mattered to me. What you need to realize is,” he waves his arms around and back and forth between us, “this has never happened with anyone else.”
“I know that. But I still get jealous.”
He scratches his head. “If it makes you feel better, I get jealous over guys who don’t even exist.”
My eyes go wide. “What?”
“Every day, especially lately,” he slides his fingers through his hair, “I worry someone better will come along—someone without all the baggage I have—and that he’ll steal you away from me.”
His admission shocks me. Never in a million years would I imagine Rooter could ever be insecure. Even after the Hayden text incident. He’s such an extremely confident person. But given his “baggage” and everything we’ve been through as of late, I can see why he feels that way.
“That’s not even possible.” I squeeze his hand. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever wanted. Even with everything… I couldn’t want anyone the way I want you.”
Rooter leans in and caresses my cheek, stroking it lightly with his thumb. “And I have never and will never want anyone the way I want you.”
After breakfast we suit up and hit the beach. Paddle boarding is not a success. For Rooter. The guy has zero balance, which takes me by surprise. The stiff wind doesn’t help much either. He spends more time falling in the water and climbing back on the board than he does on the board. I don’t have too much trouble. I only fall in twice when we first get going. Years of practicing yoga—although I haven’t in a while—have surely helped with my balance.
After an hour of paddle boarding, we trade in the boards for the jet skis. I’ve been on jet skis before, but only as a passenger. Rooter offers for me to ride with him, but I want to try it on my own. He takes his time explaining all the buttons and how to work the throttle, warning me to press it gently to get going. Once I’m comfortable, we take off along the shoreline.
Rooter is a pro at jet skiing. He speeds, jumps waves, and throws himself off of his. Me on the other hand, not so much. I probably look like a grandma as I putter around on mine, but it’s still fun and Rooter never makes fun of me. He’s very attentive and stops to check on me every so often.
We spend the afternoon riding up and down the coast gawking at the mansions along the shore. At one point, we hop off and beach the skis so we can swim. On our way back to the cottage I gain a little courage and get up to forty miles per hour.
“That was so much fun.” I beam at Rooter after we’ve secured the skis to the dock.
He laces his fingers with mine and is unusually quiet as we climb the stairs to the house.
“Did you have fun?” I ask, worried.
“Of course,” he says and kisses the top of my hand.
“You’re being quiet.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is perfect.” His radiant smile eases my worry.
We take a couple more steps and I hear music playing. I don’t think too much of it until we reach the top of the stairs and I see the reason for his silence.
The entire backyard has been transformed into a romantic oasis. It’s decorated with what seems like thousands of red and white roses. Petals are scattered along the pathway leading to the deck where a magnificent table is set for a romantic dinner. A colossal, crystal vase of two dozen long stem red roses adorn the center of the table. There are candles everywhere although they’re not yet lit. A man and woman are working in the outdoor kitchen preparing our dinner.
I clutch my chest and gasp at the sight. “Rooter, this is…” I trail off because there are no words to describe the beauty before me.
“Why don’t you go inside and get a shower?” He suggests. “I need to talk to Vic and Martha.”
When I enter the bedroom, I’m greeted by the sight of more roses and petals sprinkled throughout the room and on the bed. Also on the bed is a large white gift box topped with a red bow. On it is a note that reads:
Open Me, R.
I take a deep breath and open the lid. Inside is a beautiful, white strapless gown. The skirt is layered and short in the front and long in the back and the top half is made of bunched satin. Also in the box is a pair of silver strappy heels, a gorgeous rhinestone necklace, and in the bottom of the box is a Victoria’s Secret bag. Inside the bag is a white lace, strapless bustier and matching thong.
Rooter hasn’t been waiting for a perfect moment to arise. He’s been waiting for tonight. A night he has very carefully orchestrated.
When I step out of the shower, there’s a note waiting for me on the bed:
Wear your hair down. I’ll be waiting outside. R.
There’s a heart drawn next to his initial. My pulse quickens at the thought of him waiting for me and in anticipation of what is yet to come. Although I hate to admit it, he was right about anticipation after all.
I hurry to the bathroom to apply my makeup and blow out my hair. I wish Miranda was here to help with the eyeshadow. I do my best, but am unable to recreate her famous smoky eyes. Instead of red lipstick, I go with an understated nude. Thankfully I brought my curling iron. I use it turn my tresses into loose, flowing waves and top the look off with a little finishing spray.
I scurry to the bedroom to get dressed and stare at the bustier. I may enjoy fancy underwear, but I’ve never worn anything like this. The thought of having it on, and Rooter seeing me in it later, makes me giddy. It takes a few minutes, but eventually I’m able to get it secured comfortably. The dress is a little harder to manage having to zip it up on my own. Once I’ve finished adding the heels and necklace, I appraise myself in the mirror.
I feel like a princess and look like one too. The dress fits my body type perfectly, accentuating my long legs. The bustier even makes my girls appear bigger
. I might have to invest in more of these.
I twirl in front of the mirror and then take one last glance at my reflection.
The moment my hand clasps the door handle my heart races. Tonight is the night. Our night to make love for the first time. I want it to be perfect for both of us. I already know it’ll be perfect for me. Rooter has put together such a beautiful evening. And he’s outside waiting on me which is so incredibly exciting and yet nerve-wracking at the same time. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me. He picked all of this out for me, and what if I don’t look the way he hopes I will?
What if I’m no good in bed? He’s used to being with girls like Candace who know what they’re doing. I wonder if he’s ever been with a virgin? Or a girl like me who seriously lacks experience. He could’ve gone to all this trouble just to be let down.
Get it together Sophie!
I take a deep breath and turn the doorknob. I straighten my posture, open the door, step into the hallway and make my way to my man.
My man.
And tonight, he’ll finally be mine in every way.
When I make it to the french doors leading to the deck, Rooter’s sitting with his back to me. I open the door and step out onto the deck. Upon hearing my heels click on the wood, he stands and turns to face me. Not at all prepared for the vision standing before me, I come to a halt and gasp. He is in a tailored, charcoal gray suit paired with a black shirt and black tie. The fabric clings deliciously to his body, accentuating his muscular physique. We both stand and stare at one another for a long moment. Finally, he makes his way to me.
“You are gorgeous,” he says and reaches for my hand.
“So are you,” I breathe and eye him up and down.
“I clean up all right.” He flashes a bashful smile and leads me to the table.
Rooter pulls out a chair for me and I spy his half-finished glass of whiskey.
“I think I need one of those,” I say.
He fills the glass in front of me with ice from the silver canister on the table before pouring the Jack. He hands me the glass and then holds his up for a toast.
“To a perfect night with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
My heart skips a beat. I don’t know how to follow that up. “To you, and what is sure to be the best night of my life.”
Rooter and I each take a sip of our liquor without taking our eyes off of each other. I’m no expert on reading male desire, but with the way he’s ogling me it’s like he wants to have me for dinner.
The feeling is mutual. An hour ago I was famished, and as good as whatever Vic and Martha have prepared smells, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to eat a bite of it. My appetite for food has completely disappeared and has been replaced by a hunger for all that is Rooter.
“You’re going to have to quit looking at me like that,” he commands huskily and leans forward, “or we’ll never make it through dinner.”
“That’s fine by me.” I test him and take another sip of my Jack.
Passion flickers in his eyes. “You’ll need to eat with what I have planned for you.” He winks and I choke on my whiskey prompting him to chuckle. “You all right?”
“Mm-hmm.” This is going to be a very, very long dinner.
I try to think of something to talk about, but all I can think about is Rooter naked, with me, in bed. I watch his muscles flex as he raises his glass to his lips. Those perfect, delicious lips. I need a taste.
“Do you like the dress?” He asks, breaking me from my spell.
“I love it.” I graze the fabric with my fingertips.
He reaches down and captures a piece of the skirt between his fingers. The sleeves of his jacket squeeze his biceps. “When I saw it, I knew it was the one.”