His palms rested easy in the curve of her lower back, and he looked down into her eyes as if he could actually see them. He wished he could. Every time he looked at her he longed to be able to know exactly the color of her eyes, the shade of her hair, the hue of her lipstick or eyeshadow. But he would take what he could get and as much as she would give he would snap up in a heartbeat.
Matt laughs softly at her tease, "I didn't get the memo about naming French fries when they sent them out, so don't blame me. They're just good so I eat them. You'll get no complaints from me." The Matt offered Rose a shrug, "You could always try the sweet potato fries, those are better for you. But who am I to control what you put into your mouth?" An innocent and yet playful look followed his comment. He couldn't help it. She had set herself up for that one.
Rose brought out so many things inside of him that he didn't know had been there before. None of the other women in his life had ever offered him such a dynamic impact. He loved it.