“You’re not going anywhere. This is your home now.”
“No. I can’t?—”
“You have nowhere else to go, amore mio. You staying in that fucking tent isn’t an option. You live here now. I’ll take care of you; I’ll keep you safe.”
“I don’t need—” she starts, but her protests are so weak she doesn’t even manage to finish her sentence.
Loosening my hold on her just enough, I hook my finger under her chin and tip her face back to look at me. “I’m going to take care of you, amore mio. From now on I’ll make sure you have everything you need. You’ll never sleep on the ground again. You’ll never be cold or scared or alone. You’re home now, Verity.”
Hope and trepidation flare to life in her eyes as she looks up at me, and it solidifies every thought and need and desire I’ve had since the moment I laid eyes on her. This is exactly what was meant to happen. I was meant to see her. I was meant to wait for her. I was meant to find that fucking godforsaken tent, and I was meant to bring her home…to me.
“I can’t,” she tries again, but I press my thumb to her lips and silence her.
“You can, and you will.”
Her lips part, but I shake my head, stopping her before she can start talking. “No more, amore mio. Let’s go and get you a drink and maybe a snack. You need some sugar and to rehydrate.”
Standing with her in my arms, I lower her to her feet once I’m upright, wrapping her hand in mine as I lead her out of the bedroom and downstairs. Once we’re in the kitchen, I keep hold of her with one hand while I pull out a bottle of water and a beer from the refrigerator.
Twisting the top off the bottle of water, I hold it out to her.
“Can I have a beer?” she asks.
“No,” I tell her.
“I’m practically twenty-one.”
“I don’t care,” I tell her, not bothering to explain that she won’t be drinking from now on, no matter how old she is.
A tiny pout twists across her lips, but she doesn’t argue, even though I can tell she wants to. Instead of opening the beer I pulled out for myself, I put it back in the refrigerator and take a bottle of water instead, opening it and taking a deep drink while she watches.
Following suit, she brings her bottle to her lips and drinks, mimicking me. The moment the first swallow hits her throat, she drinks thirstily, finishing almost half the bottle without taking a breath.
Her cheeks start to turn pink when she notices me watching her, but instead of speaking, I nod approvingly, then reach up and open a cabinet, pulling out a bag of Swedish Fish candy. Verity’s eyes light up at the sight of the candy, and I remind myself to add more bags to the list of groceries I need to order. Until recently, we haven’t been able to get deliveries this far up the mountain, but an industrious kid who recently started working at Granny Annie’s diner realized that there was a gap in the market and started acting as Rockhead Peak’s version ofDoorDash. But instead of using an app, he set up a cell phone number, where you text him what you want and from where, then send him the money on Venmo, and he collects it and delivers it up the mountain.
According to Knight’s wife, Octy, the kid is making an absolute killing and is so busy he’s reduced his hours at the diner to lunchtime only so he can keep his regular daily gig taking lunch orders and getting the crazy big tip Knight pays him daily to make sure his and Octy’s lunch arrives promptly at one p.m. each day.
Tearing open the packet of Swedish Fish, I take one out, then lift it to Verity’s lips. When she reaches out to take it, I pull it back, offering it to her lips again the moment she lowers her hands. Eyeing me warily, she parts her lips, and I place the candy on her tongue, watching as she closes her mouth around it and starts to chew.
Truthfully, I know I shouldn’t be coming on this strong yet, but I can’t help it. The instinctual desire to care for her is pushing my actions, and as long as I don’t cross a line, I’m hoping she won’t freak out and try to run from me.
If she does, I’ll have to cross that bridge when it happens, but tonight she’s all mine. Pulling out a fish, I pretend to offer it to her, then eat it myself, chuckling when her expression turns scandalized.
Picking another candy from the bag, I bring it to her lips and watch as she easily opens for me to place the treat on her tongue. An errant thought fills my mind. Can I make her open this easily for my cock too?
Fuck. Nope. No. This is not the time to be thinking about her sucking my dick and the ease in which she’d do as I ask. I need to make her believe that this is her home and that she’s safe before I can start to make her understand that the room she’ll be sleeping in tonight is a temporary situation.
When she’s ready, I’ll move her into my room, and once I sleep with her in my arms, I’ll never go back to being without her.
“Drink more of your water, amore mio,” I tell her, nodding my chin toward the bottle she’s still loosely holding on the counter.
Her brow furrows for a minute, like she forgot that the water was even there, then she lifts the bottle to her lips and drinks. When she lowers it back to the counter again, I reward her with a candy, smiling at her as I place it on her tongue.
“Are you hungry for real food, amore mio?” I ask.
“No, thank you, I’m still full from the pizza,” she says sweetly.
“We could watch some TV?” I suggest.
