“I’ll take some of those.”
I’m happy she’s comfortable enough to ask for what she wants. “How about a beer?”
“You packed beer?” She almost smiles.
“And water.”
“I’ll stick with water.”
“Suit yourself.” I toss her a water bottle, then crack a cold one. I can’t be sure, but I swear she stifles a giggle. “Sure you don’t want one?”
“Better not.” She places a bookmark to hold her place before setting her book down and sitting up to unwrap her sandwich.
“Saving yourself for the wine cellar you brought to my house?”
She narrows her gaze. “I knew you were going to give me shit for that.”
“It’s a lot of wine for one person. Especially in relation to the amount of food you packed.”
“I was planning on spending the entire week drunk.”
“Don’t let me stop you.” I’d like to see Rosalie properly inebriated. She’s always wound so tight. So in control. Even the night we were together, she was only tipsy.
“I was also planning on being alone.”
“Sorry to ruin your plans,” I tease.
“They weren’t good plans.” She shrugs and pops a strawberry in her mouth.
“Why’d you make them, then?” The more time I spend with her, the more I want to understand her motivation.
“Let’s talk about something else?” She averts her gaze and mumbles, “Anything else.”
“You are so interesting. You know that?”
“I’m not. Not really.”
“I beg to differ.” Most people can’t wait for an excuse to tell you about their life. With her, she dodges every personal question. “You’re the opposite of an open book. And the more I know about you, the more I want to see inside.”
“I can assure you, it’s all rather boring. I’m not a mystery for you to solve. Believe me.”
I wait for her gaze to meet mine. “Then, why do I want to know everything about you?”
She doesn’t answer. She can barely look at me. Damn it. I pushed too far.
I reach for the book she’s been reading. “Maybe I’ll find the answers here.”
“Jackson!” She lunges to grab the book back, but I snatch it further away.
I flip open to where her bookmark holds her place. I don’t know what I expect to find. I only mean to tease her a little and lighten the mood. But holy fuck . . . I begin reading aloud.
“Mine.” His declaration sends a thrill down my spine. “You’re mine, do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whisper. As much as I’ve fought this, I’ve wanted to be his and only his from the moment we met. I reach for his straining member, loving the way he hisses when I wrap my hands around his wide shaft. I stroke him, watching as he grows impossibly bigger.
“Let me claim you,” he groans. “Let me make you mine forever.”
I want this. I want him, and I’m more than willing to try. But he’s gigantic. “Will we fit?”
