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Her eyes dart side to side, a small smile playing on her lips as she notices something new. I flex my fingers on her hips and it takes all my willpower not to tear her t-shirt off and start my own exploration of her.
“There are so many,” she says. But where I am used to that being said with an edge of surprise and distaste, Rose’s voice is only warm with sincerity. “Which was your first?”
I twist my arm so she can see the eagle on my left shoulder. She immediately places her fingers to it and smiles as she strokes its wings as though the feathers there are real and soft to the touch.
“It started on my eighteenth birthday. Mom took me. It’s not that she wanted me to have one, exactly. But she always supported me and Jasmin in whatever we wanted to do. She probably thought I would regret it and never have any more.” I smile. She always encouraged me and Jasmin to make our own decisions. I had no idea we would lose her soon after that day.
“After her and Dad died, I got the compass. And then it just kept going. I like that they’re permanent. Memories can fade. But these never do.”
“I think I understand that.” Rose smiles softly as she glances at my face before looking back at my chest. “I can’t decide which I like best. I think maybe…” She runs her hands up over my collarbones and to my neck and the small bird hiding amongst the flowers and leaves there. “I think maybe this one. I like the way the rest are covered by your suit at work, but this little man wants to be seen.” She strokes the small hummingbird and the muscle in my jaw works on overtime beneath her soft touch. “Maybe I should give him a name.”
“Like what?” I stare, transfixed at the delight swimming in her eyes.
“I don’t know. Chirpy?” She giggles, then bites her lip, looking back over my chest again. “I love how free you are, Dax. How you’ve chosen all of these for you.”
My heart stalls.Free? She thinks I’m free?
“I’m not that strong. I listen to other people too much.” Her voice falters.
“You mean, Gareth?” I hiss, hating that I’m saying his name again. Hating that he’s inside her head. That he’s the cause of her entire posture changing as the delight in her eyes dims until it’s extinguished.
“I thought we were the real thing. I thought it was forever. The old Rose believed in love. The old Rose wanted to wait until she was married.” She scoffs. “How ridiculous is that?”
My hands burn against her hips as what she’s saying sinks in. Yet, I still can’t bring myself to move them.
She keeps stroking my skin, as though the distraction makes it easier for her to talk.
“Gareth said of course we were headed that way and it shouldn’t matter. We had just moved in together and he said that was worth celebrating. And I agreed. I’m weak, Dax. I’m stupid and I’m weak. He knew when we did it that he was going to leave. Maybe he didn’t know what date the new job would start. But he must have known it was a possibility that he would get it. I think he always knew that he wanted to go alone. He just wanted to see what he was leaving behind,” she murmurs. “Maybe if I had been better, he would have asked me to go with him, who knows.”
If she had been better? Jesus Christ.
I fight down the rage simmering inside me, threatening to erupt. I fight it down with everything I have.
I inhale slowly.
What can I smell? Vanilla. Petals.
What can I see? Long, dark lashes, clear blue eyes.
What can I hear? Her breathing, soft and gentle. My pulse hammering in my ears.
Breathe. Breathe.
“You’re saying you’ve only ever been with him?” I ask softly, aware that if I give even my voice one ounce of the fire licking at me, it could be game over. I’m holding on by a thread.
She nods, her pupils dilating as she looks at me. “Just the one time.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“He said he didn’t really understand why I was so uptight about it. That it wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’thisfirst. I started to wonder if there was something wrong with me. If I wasn’t passionate because I wasn’t battling with myself daily to resist. But… I… I just wanted to wait. Mom and Dad did. She told me once. And I guess I looked at how in love they were, and I romanticized it. I made it bigger than it needed to be in my head.”
“You are passionate.” I grasp her hips tighter, leaning closer to her as I will my heart to stop racing. “There is nothing about you that doesn’t evoke the word passion when I look at you. Fuck. Passion and you are the same in my mind.” I drag in a breath, our faces inches apart.
Her eyes pop wide with surprise, but I continue, gripping her beneath my fingers, splaying them out where they wrap around her body.
“Any man would be lucky to call you his, Rose. And none would be worthy.” I dip my forehead toward hers. “None,” I whisper.
She stares at me for a few precious, silent seconds, her lashes dipping slowly as she looks at my lips and subconsciously licks her own with a gentle swipe of her tongue. Then she frowns, her eyes still on my mouth.
