Page 119 of Rogue Mission
What?
That’s when I realize he’s not looking at me, he’s now locked on the newcomer.
“That’s Rosalie, my fiancée.”
A more possessive tone has never been used.
But wait.Fiancée?
Did I miss something while I was in outer space after that orgasm?
“Drake Spence,” the man ducks his chin, studying my face. “Pleasure is mine ma’am.”
“Did we get engaged and I missed it?” I ask, staring at Justice, my fingers trembling slightly where I’ve got them pressed into my thigh.
Because this announcement feels like a really big deal.
He replies in measured words looking me right in my eyes. “You could be carrying my child right now, our future is implied. Once this nightmare is over and behind us, I’ll ask you properly, ring and all.”
I’m sure my eyes are wide as Petri dishes.
“Oh.”
The feeling in my chest is a cross between fluttering wings and being filled with helium.
This is not the first time he mentioned engagement.
And we definitely BOTH participated in playing egg-meet-sperm last night… and the night before. But this… hits different.
It’s a public—very small public—but still public commitment.
“What I want to know,” the stranger says as he shakes his head, “Is what alien stole the JT Cruze I know and replaced him with this fucking family man?”
Justice glares at him. “Fuck you, Spence.”
“Back ‘atcha, bastard. It’s the damned truth. Listen to you, all possessive and blabbin’ about rings. Seriously. I never even heard you talk about dating.”
“Because I didn’t,” Justice bites out.
“Kids! Get back on subject.” It’s Walton and he looks both mildly amused and pissed. A man of half emotions, he seems to always be straddling the line.
And Spence’s accent is definitely western, even if I don’t know accents. This man would be right at home in cowboy hat and boots.
My gaze drops to his feet.
Yep.Boots. Not combat boots like Justice. These are square-toed and worn like they are used a lot.
Justice inserts himself between us, blocking my view.
“Coffee in the kitchen if you want it, sweetheart,” he tells me, reaching back to capture my pinkie finger with his.
An ember warms behind my breastbone. It was already there after that little announcement, but him holding my hand fans the flame.
“I’ll grab some. Anyone else need a refill?”
He squeezes my pinkie. “We’re all good, come back after you get a cup.”
It strikes me then, Justice includes me.
