Page 95 of Seven Summers Ago
She straightens and I move closer to her. I’ve got no right, but Rosie doesn’t hesitate to reach for my hand. Her cool touch zings like electricity straight to my veins. But it’s not enough to ground me. I squeeze back the tears welling in my eyes.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” she commands.
It takes a few moments for my brain to signal my eyes to open. My gaze flutters, taking Rosie in with a glossy view. My breathing releases in tiny, rumbling gasps.
“Good,” she coaxes, holding my hand in hers and brushing her thumb across my knuckles. “Now take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds.”
My heart continues to race and I’m panting now like I’ve just run several miles.
Rosie fists the front of my T-shirt, hauling me closer to her until our foreheads press together. The intensity of the physical contact triggers my senses. I suck in a breath and hold it for a few seconds before releasing it.
“Good. Now another.” Her gaze is earnest.
I inhale another breath, and this time I hold it longer. Rosie mimics me, matching her breathing with mine, and it anchors me. With one hand splayed next to her on the pool table, I reach my other around her back. The yearning to hold something tangible is so powerful I don’t think; I only act. I glide my hand down until I reach her ass and grasp it in my palm.
My awareness of our close proximity heightens and threatens to send me further into this spiral. But as we lock eyes, I stare into the familiar green hue and see everything I’ve ever known to be good and right in my life. I see my person. I see my lover. I see my…home.
Rosie doesn’t release her grip from my shirt. Or the pressure of her forehead from mine. She reaches up to the back of my neck and rakes her fingers through my hair. It sends a shiver racing through my body.
As my breathing evens, my heart continues to gallop in my chest for an entirely different reason. Rosie is in my arms. It’s something I hadn’t realized I’ve been longing for until this moment. All this time I’ve been holding on to anger and resentment, and it’s blinded me from my true feelings.
I still love her.
Rosie’s grasp tightens around my neck and I draw back slightly, pressing my lips to her forehead. Her skin sears my mouth beneath the kiss I give her. Soft, lasting, purposeful. As her eyes flutter closed, she releases a throaty exhale. The sound awakens a numbness of emotions and arousal I’ve been fighting to depress.
With my hand still gripping her ass, I haul her against my hard length. She draws in a sharp breath and her eyes fly open, the green now dark and feral. I drop my gaze to her full lips. They’re rosy and alluring and I’ve never been more tempted to smash my mouth against hers.
I want her. SheknowsI want her. And yet—I know I can’t have her.
As she tips her head back, she gives me a shy smile and my hope shatters. She releases the clutch on my T-shirt and slides her palm down from my neck and across my chest. And suddenly I’m blaringly aware of just how close I came to kissing her. How close I came to grazing the cuff of her ear with my lips and murmuring,Are you wet for me, honey?
Instead, I’m doing the very last thing I want to—withdrawing from her. “Well, it’s a good thing Charlie has you,” I whisper and release my holding of her. My knees wobble as I take an agonizing step backward and exhale a shuddering breath. “You always know how to handle a panic attack.”
“Yeah.” The word vibrates from her chest. “I’m glad I was here. I mean…I’m glad I could help.” She hops off the pool table and stands before me, her vision slipping down to see how bad I want her. There’s no hiding it—my cock is standing at attention, hard as steel. Her gaze darts back up and pink highlights her freckled cheeks. “I should get some sleep. Tomorrow is a busy day,” she rushes out as she adjusts the T-shirt to cover her shoulder, nibbling on her lip and driving me even wilder.
“Yeah, me too.” I lift my arm as if I’m excusing her and giving her permission to leave.
Dipping her chin to her chest, she tucks her hair behind her ear and shuffles away. “Good night, Beck,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Night, Rosie.”
I let myself watch her as she walks away, shuffling down the hallway to the door that leads to my dad’s upstairs apartment. It’s a cruel reminder in a way. Like I’m always watching her walk away.
29
ROSIE
The kink in my neck is a keepsake of the painful decisions I had to make last night. Leaving Beck in the bar was torturous. And sleeping on separate sofas was even more brutal.
But acting on feelings isn’t something I can risk. Not at this point in my life. I have Charlie to think of.
I roll off the sofa and peek at Beck who’s still sleeping while I tiptoe to the bathroom. The mirror’s reflection is confirmation of the lack of sleep I got last night. When I step out, I grab a blanket and my phone and sneak out the door to the deck.
My phone is in working order thanks to Mr. Stone’s rice trick. I have no missing texts or calls. I release a sigh of relief and gaze at the street and shops down the street. From this spot on the deck, there’s a clear shot of the ocean.
Finally alone, the last twenty-four hours play through my mind. Beck’s intense gaze as if he wanted to devour me. The feel of his skin pressed against mine. Being in his embrace, his hair slipping through my fingers, the stroke of his hand against mine.
We were so close, his breath brushing against my lips. His mouth hovering over mine. Him palming my backside and thrusting me against his stiff length.
