I swallow hard, both hating and loving the feel of his breath against my ear.
The last time I did something so reckless, I ended up pregnant.
I shouldn’t tempt fate.Should I?
He leans back and takes a long pull from his glass, his gaze hot and heavy as it remains locked with mine.
“What?” I ask, feeling slightly self-conscious under his scrutiny. My body is warm and restless, and I reach for my necklace, tracingeach pearl bead along the chain so I have something to do with my hands.
“I can’t tell what you’re thinking, Rosalie Masters.”
Get in line, mister.
“What exactly are you proposing, Jackson Wilder?”
“Wanna come back to my place for a drink?”
Do I?
Yes.I really do.
But I don’t get to do what I want. All decisions have consequences. That’s something I know all too well. But the thought of returning home tonight, a little horny and completely alone, throws off my sense of propriety. At least, that’s how I rationalize my next decision.
“A drink? That’s it?” I raise my brows, because yes, I’m going to make him spell it out.
His lips press together, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.
“How about we start with a drink, and if that’s as far as you want to take it, that’s as far as it goes.” He’s giving me control and it releases most of my apprehension. “But if you ask me to fuck you, I promise I won’t disappoint. I can go all night if you want.”
“All night?” My heart races at the idea. “That’s quite the guarantee. Sure you can deliver?”
“Oh, Rosalie. There are many ways I fall short in life, but my stamina is not one of them.”
Fuck me.There’s only one thing standing in the way.
“Maeve can never know.”
His gaze snaps to mine. There’s a wild storm in the depths of his stare. It mirrors my own internal turmoil and makes me wonder if Jackson and I are more alike than one would imagine.
He gives the barest of nods. “No one needs to know, especially my sister.”
He drains his beer, stands, and sets his hat back on his head. He lifts his hand to catch Desiree’s attention, and pulls out his wallet. Before she can make her way over to us, he leans forward, elbowsresting on the bar top as he stares forward without a hint of emotion. His voice is low when he speaks, his words only for me.
“I’m going to sit in the parking lot for fifteen minutes before driving home. If you come home with me, I promise we’ll have a good time. If not, no hard feelings. But either way, we’ll pretend this never happened. You have my word on that.”
1
ROSALIE
ONE YEAR LATER
“Edward?”I knock at my son’s open doorway before stepping through. “I’m heading out.” I force a smile onto my face, even though I feel like crying.
He looks up from his book as I approach the edge of his bed. “Okay, Mama.”
He’s made a nest of blankets and pillows, surrounded by his favorite graphic novels. It’s the way he’s started every day since summer break, and my bibliophile heart couldn’t be more proud. I’m glad he loves books the way I do. Though, with me as his mother, he never stood a chance!
“I’ll call you every night.” I sit next to him and brush back his hair, committing his perfect face to memory. As if I could ever forget.
