Every word that just left my mouth was nothing like how I really felt. Rosiewasa lot, but not in a way where she wastoo much. I just wasn’t used to being around somebody I had feelings for, and getting things right was a lot for me to navigate. I’d never had a relationship; never had to think about somebody else, so it was alien to me.
Sometimes I felt like I was walking on eggshells around her. She was so beautiful and so fucking together, when most of the time, I was holding on by my goddamned fingertips, terrified that somehow, I’d fuck everything up.
That wasn’t me.
I’d always been a gung-ho motherfucker, a daredevil, a man who more often than not sought forgiveness because asking for permission wasn’t in my remit. These days, I was so scared of putting a foot wrong with Rosie, and also with Imogen, that somehow, I’d turned into a fucking sap.
I pushed my door open and shouted, “Rosie!” just as her front door opened and she disappeared into her house.
Jumping down from the truck, I prowled down the path and stormed the porch steps before hammering on the door.
“Open up!” I shouted.
All I got back was a shrieked, “Fuck off.”
My head reared back in shock.
Where had my level-headed, understanding Posy disappeared to?
“Ro,” I shouted again. “Let me apologize.”
“How about you eat shit and die,” she screamed through the door.
Well.That was a bit harsh.
“Come on, baby,” I crooned. “We both know you don’t really want me to die.”
“Yeah, I do,” she shot back. “I’m fucking sick of men who blame their insecurities on me. I’ll have you know, Donovan O’Shea, that I’m not too fucking much. Maybe the problem is thatyou’renot enough.”
Well damn.
That told me.
“I’m sorry, baby. I was out of order. I’ll go now and give you some space, but I’ll come back tomorrow and we can have that talk.” I touched the door with my fingertips.
“Don’t bother,” she yelled. “I’m washing my hair.”
Grinning to myself, I shot back, “The day after, then.”
“I’m getting my pussy waxed, she snapped. “Call me next year.”
I grimaced.
Maybe she just needed a day or two to calm down, and I needed to go home and grab a shower, seeing as all that talk of getting her pussy waxed had given me a half-chub.
Suddenly, a thought hit me. Why hadn’t I been throwing Rosie all around the bedroom for all these weeks, while also throwing her eight inches of solid dick? It wasn’t like I didn’t want to tag her ass; I mean, just the thought of her juicy tits got me hard as a rock.
Jesus Christ, what was the matter with me? Since when had I been asexual? How could it be that a man who not so long ago couldn’t walk past a hot chick without trying to charm her into bed, had the promise of Rosie ‘spank bank’ Woods whenever he wanted her, but instead, left her thoroughly unfucked?
Was there something wrong with me?
I turned toward my truck and stumbled to it, my brain short-circuiting at my epiphany. What if my dick had stopped working? What if some bitch with a grudge had put some kind of voodoo curse on me, and I’d never get the urge to fuck again?
In that moment, I did a complete one-eighty and went from not wanting to talk to suddenly being desperate for a deep ol’ chat, and there was one person in my life I knew I could go to. Not only that, but I trusted him above all others because he’d always been honest with me, even though he could be an asshole.
The only problem was, he’d just got home after traveling back from Ireland with his pregnant wife for the last twenty hours, and he might not feel like being very receptive to my ass darkening his doorstep with my drama.
But fuck it.
