Warrick tossed his keys on the side table in his entranceway and stalked to the kitchen. Kissing Sara had felt entirely too good. He’d meant for it to be a quick kiss goodnight, but it had gotten out of hand much too quickly. He’d been seconds away from hauling her inside her apartment and stripping her bare. Stripping her and exploring every inch of her. Seeing what she liked and didn’t like. Finding out what made her moan. What made her come.
And that couldn’t happen. It couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to Sara.
He grabbed a bottle of water and chugged half of it, then realized water wasn’t going to cool him down. Drinking it wouldn’t, anyway. It would take a lot more than that to stop what Sara had started.
He turned, planning to take a cold shower, but caught sight of the rose bush he’d transplanted from the old house. The sight of its yellowing leaves was enough to douse the heat, at least partially.
It sat outside the sliding door leading to his patio. He moved closer and saw that a lot of the leaves had a yellow tinge to them and a few of the branches looked funny. They were darker and looked like they were collapsing on themselves somehow. Maybe they were dry.
He went to the kitchen for the watering can, giving the plant a good drink of water. Maybe he hadn’t been watering it enough.
Walking into his bedroom and kicking off his shoes, he pulled up the web browser on his phone. He didn’t know what to search for. Save a rose bush. The search pulled up all kinds of results, and the memory of the kiss with Sara was nothing more than that; a memory that tickled at the back of his mind as he read through the results of his search.
He would fix this. He needed to fix this.