Page 73 of All Your Firsts

Vic

Iwake up the following morning, wrapped around Rosie. Even in the realm of sleep, I can’t stay away from her.

My feelings for her are teetering on the edge of obsession, or perhaps they have already crossed that line and moved into a territory I can’t even comprehend.

We could have gone home last night, but I wanted an excuse to lie next to her again.

I was in utter shock when I felt her rubbing her hand against my neck and then lower yesterday. She was trying to console me, rub away my demons, and it seemed to partially work. I felt like a complete ass for snapping at her for asking questions, but I couldn’t help it.

It makes me feel weak, and that’s the last word I want Rosie to associate with me.

I want her to feel like she can come to me.

I want her to feel protected.

How can she feel that way if I’m the broken one?

I gaze down at her. She’s so innocent and was so unbelievably adorable last night while toilet papering the house. I felt her pulse as I kissed her, and it was going one hundred miles a minute.

I tried to imagine the way she was feeling. The absolute excitement and rush she must have felt. It’s hard for me to imagine since nothing excites me anymore, well, besides her.

I watch her for another ten minutes, her long dark eyelashes fan against her high cheeks, her hair a chaotic mess, and her chest rising and falling deeply.

I place my hand over her heart, feeling the steady beat. I remove my hand as she stirs.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. We need to get downstairs and eat before work.”

Her eyes lazily open, and a smile graces her thick, pouty lips that I want nothing more than to devour, suck on, and bite.

Last night’s kiss was an appetizer, and I want more.

Much more.

Trey comes into the kitchen, flanked by Marcus and Julian.

“Morning boys,” Rosie singsongs as she looks up from her yogurt and granola.

“Hey there, pretty girl, you done with him and ready to come to the dark side?” Trey says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Never gonna happen,” I say.

“Never say never,” he says with a smile.

“What are you even doing here so early?”

“Had to get my other fucking boots,” Trey says, sounding irritated.

Showtime.

“Some little fuckers decided to TP our fucking house with a shit ton of toilet paper.”

I look over at Rosie. The second she puts two and two together, she practically chokes on her coffee.

“Easy, princess,” I say, smirking while rubbing her back that’s ramrod straight.

“It took for-fucking-ever to pick it up. When I find them, they’re going to pay.”

“That sucks, man,” I say, feigning sympathy I don’t feel.

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