ELEVEN
WARRICK
We all watch as Verity rushes into the house and out of sight.
“Is she okay?” James asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit, wishing I knew her well enough to interpret her actions. When she’d stumbled downstairs last night, sleepy and flushed, I’d acted without thought, dragging her into my arms and kissing her without even considering the consequences.
I’d expected her to slap me, or maybe grab her stuff and run away, but instead she surprised me when she kissed me back. Having her in my arms felt fucking perfect, hearing her tell me she wanted me to kiss her was even better. But I don’t want to rush this. I want to know her, so when I claim her, it’s because we’re both ready for forever.
I’m not interested in third-act breakups or will-they-won’t-they romance. I want her to be all mine and know that I’m all hers, no questions asked, and I’m not interested in falling into bed with her if it’s going to jeopardize that.
That’s not to say that I don’t want to fuck her, because I do. But I know myself well enough to realize that once I sink my dick into her pretty little pussy, I’ll never let her go. I need to make sure she understands that before we take that step.
Until then, I plan to show her what her life will be like with me. I plan to treat her like the goddess that she is until that’s what she expects from me. Once she knows that, I’ll strip her naked and worship her until every inch of her belongs to me.
“Tell us about her. Where did you meet?” Buck asks, his gaze flashing to the door, then back to me.
“She was directing traffic in the parking lot at the trailhead. She handed me a map,” I admit.
“And she’s wild camping?” he questions.
I nod, unsure if I should admit that wild camping is actually code for living in her tent because she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.
“How old is she?” James blurts.
“She’s twenty.”
“Is she on break from college?” she questions.
“No.”
“This town is fucking crazy, you know that,” Buck assures his wife. “If Warrick thinks she’s his, she is.”
“I know, but…” James trails off.
“She’s meant to be mine, it’s the surest I’ve been about anything in my entire life,” I tell them as I push out of my seat and head into the house to track down my woman.
Climbing the stairs two at a time, I reach for the handle to the bathroom door without even considering knocking. The handle turns, but the door stays shut. Rapping my knuckles against the wood, I call for her. “Amore mio, open the door.”
There’s silence for a long moment before I hear the sound of the lock sliding open. Not giving her a chance to deny me entry,I turn the handle and step inside, reaching for her the moment I see her.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” I demand.
“I just…” she starts, her voice shaky.
“Tell me, amore mio.”
“I can’t go to a hockey game,” she blurts.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m broke. I have less than five dollars to my name. I’m homeless and jobless and worthless and pathetic, and you kissed me and then you apologized, and who wants their first real kiss to say ‘sorry’ after they do it?”
Her words are garbled and thick with emotion, but what stands out the most is her saying that I was her first real kiss.
“I was your first real kiss?” I question.
