Page 26 of Whispered Promises

I need to occupy myself with something. Anything. I’ve suddenly forgotten what it feels like to have limbs.

I panic.

But what do I do with my hands?

Why does my head feel difficult to hold up?

Get it together, Rosy.

Rifling back in the box beside me, I grab a small, tubed package and rip it open, then shuffle forward, slowly reaching out my hand. Offering the lick-it snack to Moshi, I let him watch my movements as I steadily come closer on my knees, torso pressed low to the floor as I softly croon to him, keeping my words low and exhaling to release the tension from my body.

Behind me, Max lets out a grunt, but I block it out, not wanting to startle Moshi by turning around suddenly.

Ever so gently, I get close enough that I can boop a bit of the treat onto his nose, a familiar tactic I’ve been doing since yesterday, so he isn’t startled by the movement even if he is still tense about me being in his space.

“Come on, handsome, you know you want more of the yummy treat. Remember how good they taste?” I murmur gently.

His tongue pokes out and licks off the drop I put on his nose. Then his eyes flick down to the rest of the treat waiting in my hand. As he stretches his neck towards me, I quickly squeeze a little more, and he eagerly laps it up, his rough tongue catching it all before a single drop can fall to the floor.

“You're such a brave boy. See, I told you it’s the tasty stuff,” I continue, letting the hand holding the tube slowly inch its way up so my hand’s closer to his mouth. As I get to the end, I gently squeeze some of the paste onto my finger, and on the next swipe of his tongue, I change the angle so he licks my finger instead. Elation sweeps through me. It was a risk trying to progress things further with someone new in the room, but it paid off. I continue to squeeze the rest of the paste onto my finger, letting Moshi lick it off each time until he finishes the packet.

Shuffling back slowly, I rise back up into a sitting position, unable to hide the wide grin on my face.

“That was so cool. You’re so good with him. That’s some next-level Dr Doolittle shit.” Max’s voice is animated, even with him trying to keep it at a whisper.

In my elation, I can’t even feel the embarrassment over his compliment, and I just smile wider at him.

He reaches out, taking one of my hands in his and settles it in his lap, brushing his thumb back and forth across my knuckles.

TWELVE

MAX

“Where did you learn all this stuff?”

Watching Rosy in her element is fucking hot. She moves with so much confidence around animals, compared to interacting with people. It’s so endearing, and whilst I love teasing her, watching this side of her has both my pulse thrumming and my cock twitching.

A familiar blush rises to cover her cheeks; the self-assured Rosy taking a back seat now that her attention isn’t fixed on Moshi any longer.

She ducks her head to focus on our joined hands. “Oh, just learning from animal behaviourists and spending time watching their body language, really. I would love to study and become a qualified cat behaviourist too, but that takes both time and money… Neither of which I have an abundance of at the moment,” she responds with a half-hearted chuckle and a shrug of her shoulders.

“Fuck, well, you honestly impressed me. Plus, I’ll help out as much as I can at the farm; maybe that can give you some more time,” I promise. It feels all too easy to offer her the commitment.

It feels strange to want to be a part of someone else’s life, other than the guys, but I can’t deny the clawing need to make Rosy smile and take away the heavy weight she seems to carry.

“It was fun having you there. The days can be pretty long and not always great if the weather isn’t nice. So you’re welcome to come and help out any time; plus, I think Gilly and Mabel will miss you if you don’t visit.” She snorts, nibbling her lip to try to contain the laughter I know she’s fighting to hold back.

Cheeky Rosy.

“Those two? I thought you were going to let them eat me. I was hurt.” I clasp our joined hands to my chest, the move tugging her closer so I can see each lash framing her eyes; they aren’t the pale blue I’d originally thought but instead a startling grey. My focus drops down to a small cluster of freckles across her nose, and without thinking, I swipe my tongue across them.

Rearing back, Rosy exclaims, “Eww, Max.” Her biteable nose crinkles in protest, and she drops my hands, wiping the saliva off before wiping it on me. “Here, take it back.”

“I don’t have cooties. You just looked so cute, and I wanted a taste.” I shrug, not seeing the issue.

“You can’t just lick things or people willy-nilly.” She gestures, her eyes wide.

Sniggering at her, I lean back in. “Willy-nilly? Are you an 80-year-old woman in disguise?” I peer closely at her before reaching out with my hands and squeezing her cheeks. “This is a pretty good prosthetic job, Grandma,” I tease, giving her a soft wink.