As her movements slowed, he lifted her slightly, then began pumping his hips, taking over the thrusts. Her inner walls squeezed his cock as her orgasm rushed over her and she cried out his name.
He flipped them, causing her to squeal as he landed on top, his weight supported on his forearms. Lifting her knees, he pushed her legs wider as he continued to power through his thrusts. “Give it all to me, babe,” he growled.
“You’ve got me, Zander,” she panted, watching his face as his muscles corded in his neck. “All of me.”
At her words, his orgasm hit and he poured himself into her. Thrusting until the last drop was milked, he managed to roll to her side so as to not crush her when his much larger body collapsed.
Their breaths, ragged, finally slowed, their racing hearts beginning to beat as one. As reason returned, his eyes widened. “Shit, babe, I forgot to use a condom.” Her eyes jerked open and he rushed, “I’m clean…I swear, I’m clean.”
“I am too,” she assured. Trying to think of when she last had a period, she confessed, “But, I haven’t had a…uh, period since I’ve gotten out of the hospital. I know antibiotics and trauma can mess up a woman’s cycle. But, I’m sure…well, I uh…”
Cupping her face with his hand, he peered into her eyes, now full of worry instead of passion, and hated he put that emotion there. “Listen, Rosalie. I take responsibility…full responsibility. But, honest to God, if you get pregnant, I won’t be upset. I’ve fallen in love with you, princess, and the idea of making a baby with you would be the best happily-ever-after I can think of.”
Rosalie looked up, a tremulous smile meeting his self-assured one, and her heart leaped at his words. “I love you too, Zander. I think I fell in love with you while I was still sleeping.”
27
“I wish I could go to work with you tonight,” Rosalie said wistfully, sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching Zander getting dressed. “I don’t feel bad.”
He plopped down on the bed next to her, his fingers halting as they tied his boots. Twisting his head, his deep voice rumbled, “Babe.”
Shaking her head, she said, “Babe? You know that one word has so many different meanings, depending on your inflection.”
“Yeah, and what did that one mean?”
“It meant that you think I'm silly in wanting to go with you.”
“No,” he argued. “It meant that I don’t believe you when you say you don’t feel bad. I was there, remember? I saw them move your arm around, trying to ascertain if it had healed properly. Another CT scan and another x-ray on your ribs.”
Huffing, she leaned her elbows on her bent knees, placing her head in her palms. “I’ll be bored tonight.”
“But, I won’t have to worry,” he added, kissing the end of her nose. “Anyway, you said you were going to get called this week for substitute teaching, so you don’t need to be staying up till the wee hours of the morning and then getting a call a few hours later.”
Nodding, she knew he was right, but it still rankled.
He stood, placing his hands on her shoulders, his face just inches from hers. “I hate like hell to leave you, but my truck was making noises when we were out today and I need to take a few minutes to make sure it’s good before I go.”
Unfurling her legs, she stood, his hands still warm on her shoulders. Smiling as she lifted to her toes, she wrapped her hands around his neck, her lips moving to his. Soft and steel. Firm and pliant. He groaned into her mouth, taking the kiss deeper.
His phone buzzed on the dresser and he pulled back reluctantly. Holding her gaze, he said, “We keep this up, I’ll never get to work.” His phone buzzed again.
With her palms resting on his chest, she gave a little push. “Go on,” she grinned. “I’ll be fine and here when you get home.”
Kissing the tip of her nose, he swiped his phone off the dresser and glanced at the screen. Hitting a few buttons, he said, “It’s Rafe. I’ll call him back later.”
Moving together to the front door, she kissed him once more before shutting and latching the door behind him. Standing with her back flat against the door, her eyes roamed around the small room, wondering how she would occupy her time. Landing on the sliding glass door, she remembered Zander’s truck was parked below. Grinning, she hurried over to the door and out to the balcony, waiting for him to come into view.
It only took a moment before he was below, stalking toward his truck, his tall, muscular frame capturing her attention. Leaning only slightly over the rails, she admired the hug of his black, long-sleeved shirt over his chest. His jeans, worn and comfortable looking, showcased his thighs and ass. Nothing fancy but, all man.
Opening her mouth to call down to him as he lifted the hood of his truck, she caught the phone at his ear. Not wanting to interrupt, she remained quiet, deciding to wait until he hung up before calling down.
“Rafe? What’s up?” Zander asked. He propped the hood of his truck up and leaned over the engine. Laying his phone down, he pushed the speaker button.
“Hey, Zan. Just wanted to see how things were going.”
“Good, all good. How about you?”
“Hell, I can’t complain,” Rafe joked, his voice belying his words. “But, I didn’t call about me. I talked to Cael and he mentioned you’ve got your Sleeping Beauty still at your apartment. What’s up with that?”
“Her name’s Rosalie, dickhead, and what do you mean?”
“Come on, Zan, don’t you think your guilt’s gone far enough. I mean, I’m sure she’s a nice girl and all, but you takin’ her in, just because you think it’s your fault she got assaulted, is going overboard.”
Still jiggling a few wires underneath the hood, he felt his temperature rise. “Rafe, what’s your problem? You’ve always had my back before—”
“I’ve still got your back, Zan. Probably me more than anyone else there, ‘cause I don’t have to see her dependence on you. But, I gotta tell you, the other guys are concerned as well.” Before he had a chance to retort, Rafe continued, “One of these days, she’s going to remember that it was you who kicked her out of the bar. And, even though it wasn’t your fault, she’s going to remember being in the parking lot that night, a target for that asshole who grabbed her.”
“You think I don’t worry about that? You think I’m not afraid that she’ll blame me?”
“Yeah…I know you. I know you’re torn up with guilt. Man, that was not on you. But, you’ve become her everything. She’s in your apartment…working at Grimm’s…with you almost twenty-four-seven.”
Still fiddling with his truck, he wiped the sweat forming on his brow, Rafe’s words hitting low. “So, what the hell is wrong with that?”
“Fuck man, let me list the reasons. Number one, the relationship isn’t built on full disclosure. Number two, she’s so dependent on you, she’s got no life outside of you. One day, you might look around and realize, if it’s not right, she’s too ingrained in your life to be able to get out. Number three—”
“Fine, fine, I get it,” he growled. “But you’re forgetting one major thing and that’s how much I care about her.”
“I haven’t forgotten that, Zan. But if she’s only with you because she sees you as her saviour, is that really what you want? She can’t get on without you right now and you’re locked in with a woman who doesn’t even remember the first time she ever lay eyes on you.”
He picked up his phone, slamming the hood of his truck. “Fuck, man, I care about her. I love her. And I’m a selfish enough bastard to want to keep what we have. I’ll tell her sometime…when I think she’s ready to hear the whole story.”
“And in the meantime, you’ve got her dependent on you. Is that real, Zan? Are you in love with Rosalie or with the fairy tale princess you’ve built up in your mind? Is she falling in love with you, or just idea of her prince? Do you even know the difference?”
“I hear you, Rafe,” he bit out, frustration pouring from every pore. “I think you’re wrong, but I hear y
ou. Listen, I’m headin’ to work. Talk to you later.” Disconnecting, he shoved his phone back into his pocket, walking to the driver’s door. Climbing inside, he backed out of the parking space, his eyes lifting to the balcony of his and Rosalie’s apartment, smiling as he thought of her safely tucked inside. Rafe’s wrong…I do love her. The real Rosalie.
His gaze missed how the sliding glass door had just shut, the woman inside retreating, a tear sliding down her cheek.
The last suitcase was packed. Her books were in a box. The bathroom was now devoid of her toiletries. Her laptop was in its case, her purse sitting by the door. And, the handwritten letter was lying on the kitchen counter.
The taxi pulled up outside and she picked up the first few items before making her way to the bottom of the apartment stairs.
“I’ve got a few more things to take,” she explained, grateful when the taxi driver got out and offered to help. It only took the two of them another trip to have her belongings inside and he twisted around, lifting an eyebrow. Rattling off the address, she leaned back in the seat. Wanting to keep her eyes forward, they slid to the side, as if pulled by a magnet, to watch as Zander’s apartment building faded into the distance.
Closing her eyes tight to stem the fear of more tears falling, she focused on Rafe’s words. Dependent. Fairytale. Not real. Guilt. She understood all of his words except the guilt. What guilt was he talking about? Why would Zander feel guilty? What happened that night?
Watching the city streets slide by her window, she wondered if she should be heading to a hotel. It would be good to disappear. But her destination also made sense. As long as I don’t swap one dependency for another. As the taxi stopped outside the house, she climbed out, her nerves now at an all-time high. Oh, God, was this a mistake?
Slipping the driver his fee, he nodded in acknowledgment before helping to lug her cases to the front porch. Her stomach somersaulted as the door swung open and Miss Ethel hurried out, her arms open wide. Rushing into the older woman’s embrace, she felt the heaviness in her heart burst forth, new tears streaming down her face.
“Oh, child, come in, come in.”
With Miss Ethel’s arm around her shoulders, she was ushered into the living room. Sitting on the sofa, she held tightly to the older woman’s hand, the lifeline necessary at the moment. As her eyes dried, she observed the tea service sitting on the coffee table in front of her, homemade cookies on a small platter. Smiling weakly, she wiped her eyes.
Patting her leg before rising, Miss Ethel poured the cups of tea and placed a few cookies on a saucer. “Drink, my dear, and have a little snack. I always think tea and cookies help us feel better about whatever distress is going on in our lives.”
Obediently following her lead, Rosalie sipped the sweet, peppermint tea, the scent and taste cutting through the confusion of her mind. Munching on a cookie, she allowed a small smile to slip out. “I remember my mom used to make homemade cookies all the time.”
Miss Ethel’s face crinkled as she smiled and said, “I’m so pleased you’re regaining memories of your family. I think that it’s important to remember those we’ve loved.”
At the word love, her heart plummeted, but she fought through the darkness. Heaving a sigh, she said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you earlier, so upset you felt like you needed to invite me to stay—”
“Rosalie, nothing made me feel like I needed to invite you. Yes, I did hear the distress in your voice and, yes, I do realize you are running from something and that must involve Alexander. But, I want you here and not wandering somewhere or even holed up in a hotel somewhere. My home is always open to you.”
Clearing her throat, she leaned back into the deep cushions of the sofa after placing her cup back on the coffee table. “I’m sure you’re curious…and I know,” she rushed to say, “that you said you don’t need to know what happened, but I want to tell you. I want to talk about it.”
Miss Ethel nodded and copied her movements as she settled back in her chair, her hands folded in her lap. “Okay, sweet child. I’m all ears.”
She gathered her tumultuous thoughts for a moment, trying to decide how best to proceed. Finally, with a frustrated shake of her head, she blurted, “I overheard Rafe.”
Miss Ethel blinked, confused, and she realized how stupid that sounded. “Rafe called Zander today and he had him on speaker phone, so I heard their conversation. I know it was wrong, to eavesdrop but…well, if I had tried to move, Zander would have heard me. So, I just stayed still, and…uh…”
“Naturally, you listened. You could hardly have just shut your ears.”
Snorting inelegantly, her lips curved slightly. “I suppose God should have given us ear flaps like eyelids, so we could just close them when we needed to.”
Miss Ethel cackled, clapping her hands. “Oh, my dear, how funny.” Sobering, her gaze never leaving Rosalie’s, she said, “So, tell me what Rafe said that had you running.”
With a great sigh, Rosalie began telling her what she heard. Finally, she summarized, “So, all of Zander’s friends are wondering why I’m still at his place. They think I’m too dependent on him. They think he’s acting out of guilt or a misplaced fairy tale in his mind. And, it was hinted that Zander’s the reason I was attacked.”
The silence of the room was broken by the tick-tock of the old cuckoo clock on the wall, its metronome comforting as she waited to see what Miss Ethel would say.
“Do you remember the night of the attack?”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I don’t remember anything about that night. I have memories of the hotel I was staying in, but nothing after that until I awoke in the hospital.”
“Well, it is Alexander’s story to tell you, of when he first met you,” Miss Ethel said, “but it’s no secret that he blames himself for not keeping you from danger.”
“Then he’s blaming himself for the actions of someone else,” she argued, pleased to see the other woman nod her head in agreement.
“Yes, but we can’t always control our thoughts. Especially for someone like Zander. He always took his responsibilities of being the oldest of the boys in my house very seriously.”
“So, he is with me out of guilt?” Rosalie asked, pain lacing her words.
“Tell me, what do you remember of being asleep? In the hospital?”
That was not the question she was expecting and her head jerked slightly as she pondered. “Uh…I remember darkness. But sometimes it seemed like there was a light at the edges. Sometimes I wanted the light, but other times, I welcomed the darkness.”
She looked up, wondering if Miss Ethel would have a comment, but she just continued to look at her with an expectant expression. “So, uh…I remember hearing a voice. I suppose I heard more than one, but it was the deep, constant voice of someone in particular that I remember. At some point, I heard words, phrases, I recognized.” A small smile slipped out as she continued, “It was as though the words and that voice wrapped around me, keeping me safe. Keeping me anchored.”
“Alexander,” Miss Ethel said, her voice soft.
“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling at the memory, “Zander. He told me his name when I was sleeping and when I awoke and heard his voice, I knew it was him.”
“My dear, he may have visited you the first time out of a sense of worry, but I have no doubt he continued out of a sense of caring.”
They sat quietly again, each lost in their own thoughts. Closing her eyes, Rosalie went back in her mind, to those days of just hanging on, hearing his voice.
The sun began to slide further into the horizon, shadows now creeping into the living room of Miss Ethel’s house. Rosalie watched as she reached up to flip the light switch on the old, Tiffany lamp over her chair, sending a soft glow about the room.
“My boys have always been unusually close,” Miss Ethel said, startling Rosalie, who stayed respectfully quiet as the older woman continued to reminisce.
“They all came from such diverse bac
kgrounds, and yet were all so vulnerable, so similar in that way. Alexander was the first and remained the oldest. I often relied on him to help with the younger ones, feeling that the responsibility was good for him. I would never have asked him to give more than he was able to give, but due to his mother’s neglect, I gave him love and a safe harbor and he wanted to give that to others in return.”
“He told me you taught him to read,” she said, her voice soft with gratitude toward the unselfish foster mother who did so much more than just take in lost boys.
“Yes, yes. He and I used to pour over books. He had a thirst for learning and especially a desire to read stories. I think he loved the places they could take him to. Growing up, his imagination was all he had. And, of course, he would read to the others at night before they went to bed.”
Folding her hands in her lap, she continued, “They not only became my family, but they also became family to each other. Fiercely protective. I suppose that’s what prompted Rafe’s call. The others might have been concerned about Alexander, but they’ve met you. They understand that what he is feeling is real. Rafe is…well, Rafe isn’t here. He’s less trusting, more suspicious of people’s behavior. But, someone will come along to knock him for a loop. Until then, he’s more likely to believe in what he can see and touch.”
“He was right, though,” Rosalie said. “I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but as I sat in Zander’s apartment and thought about everything, I realized he was right. I am dependent on Zander and I shouldn’t be. I woke up from a long dream, finding my body battered, not remembering why. All of my memories were fuzzy, and that was so scary. And there he was, larger than life, the one thread I remembered from my deep sleep in the hospital.” Closing her eyes, she battled the sting, as she swallowed deeply. “He was so handsome. Big and rough, as though he could battle anything and, yet, so gentle with me. And it was so easy to just give it all over to him. My worries, concerns, fears, doubts. He took them all and made me feel safe.”
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