Page 118 of Faking the Pass
“This alright?” I asked in as steady a voice as I could manage.
Her response was more of a dreamy low hum than an actual “yes,” but I got the message.
My dick did as well, reporting for duty.Poor misinformed sucker.
In any other circumstance, this set of visual, aural, and tactile cues would lead to me stripping off the rest of my clothes and moving Rosie as quickly as possible from shower to bed, towels be damned.
Instead, I finished rinsing her hair then handed her a towel to wrap around her body and one for her head.
“Thank you, Presley,” she said. “That was wonderful. I hope you didn’t get soaked, too.”
“Yeah, I’m a little wet,” I said. “But it’s okay because after I get you back to the bed I’m going to take a shower myself.”
The coldest one of my entire fucking life.
When Rosie was safely back in bed, I checked my phone to see the status of the pharmacy delivery. The medicine was here already, waiting in my mailbox according to the video that accompanied the email.
I threw on a t-shirt and went to retrieve it then read the instructions and dosage information on the bottle. It said the tablets were quick-dissolving and to take them with water, so Ishook a couple into my hand and took them to Rosie with a cold water bottle from the fridge.
Thankfully she wasn’t asleep yet. Her hair was still wrapped in a towel, but she’d put on the fresh t-shirt I’d handed her before leaving the room.
I’d also given her a pair of clean panties from her suitcase—which she’d never unpacked after the trip, though there was a dresser in the guest room where she usually slept.
Rosie took the pills then lay back again, smiling. “I do feel better after my shower, but I’m so tired now.”
“You want me to bring in the hair dryer and help you dry your hair?”
“No. I don’t even care,” she said. “I just want to sleep. Go take your shower.”
I did take one—an extra long one during which I could not keep myself from visualizing Rosie’s gorgeous wet body. Afterward I prowled the house restlessly, made some dinner, which she refused, then got ready for bed.
When I slid in beside her, she was asleep and smiling. She must have been feeling better, thanks to the medicine.
That seemed like a great thing until she rolled toward me and slid her arm across my midsection, pressing the front of her soft, warm body to my side.
Her head snuggled into the gap between my shoulder and chest, and my heart, which was supporting her cheek, began to hammer.
What the hell is going on?
Was she feelingthatmuch better? And also no longer concerned about her precious contract and its onerous cockblocking clauses?
“I love you,” she murmured, and the hammer started pounding double time.
My hand involuntarily went to her face, cupping her jaw and tilting it upward so I could see her eyes.
They were closed.
She was still out, talking in her sleep. She didn’t even know what she was saying.
The doctor had warned the medication could cause bad dreams, butthiswasn’t what I’d expected.
Is that what Rosie did in her nightmares? Tell me she loved me?
“Love you,” she repeated. “But I shouldn’t.”
Or maybe it wasn’t me she was dreaming about at all. Maybe she was still hung up on Randy, despite what he’d done to her and how much hestillwanted to hurt her.
I guess I got it—love didn’t just vanish immediately, no matter how much you wished it would.
