Chapter 11 Rosemarie
ELEVEN
ROSEMARIE
He kissed me again last night.
And it was not some tentative, maybe-this-was-a-mistake kind of kiss. It was another possessive kiss. A claim. The kind of kiss that leaves you sore-mouthed and trembling and soaking through your damn panties.
I could still feel his hands on me—one cupping the side of my face, fingers rough but reverent, while the other had a grip on my hip that was sure to leave bruises. The pressure of his palm had branded me, like he wanted to hold me in place and never let go.
God.
I don’t know how I made it through the rest of that night. I barely remember locking the door behind him. My heart was pounding too hard, my thighs pressed together like that could stop the desire that was aflame.
It didn’t.
Nothing had stopped it since.
Not the state of my store, which still smelled like mildew and ruin. The floorboards creaked like they were mourning with me. I couldn’t even walk through the main room without feeling like something sacred had been ripped from me.
Not even the guilt crawling under my skin every time I saw my parents. Or his daughter, who I ran into outside the post office yesterday. Teagan gave me one of those half-smirks she’s always had.
Back in high school, she was the pretty one. The cool one. I was the quiet, bookish girl she’d occasionally pretend to be nice to when teachers were watching. Her approval was always conditional. Temporary. A game.
Now? Now I was fucking fantasizing about her dad.
But it wasn’t just a fantasy anymore.
I sat cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom, surrounded by stacks of warped books that I’d been trying to sort all morning. I hadn’t cried today. That felt like a win. But I hadn’t gotten much done, either—not when my mind kept drifting back to Gavin’s voice.
The way his mouth had taken mine like it had every right to. Like he was tasting something forbidden and didn’t care.
And his hands—God, those hands. Big and calloused from years of work, but gentle when they wanted to be. I wanted them on me again. On my waist. My thighs. Between my legs. I’d never wanted something so filthy in my life.
I was still a virgin. Technically. But I’d read enough and had explored my body enough to know exactly what I liked. What I wanted.
And I wanted him.
I wanted him to push me back onto my bed, tear off my little sundress, and tell me I was his. Wanted to hear him growl my name while he fucked me—with his fingers first, his mouth next, and then that thick cock I’d felt press against my stomach when he’d kissed me.
I let out a shaky breath and flopped onto my back, one arm thrown over my eyes.
This was wrong. So wrong.
But nothing had ever felt more right.
The guilt was there, sure. A constant weight. Every time my dad said Gavin’s name with affection, it twisted the knife deeper.
“He’s like family,” Dad said just the other day.
Family.
Meanwhile, I was daydreaming about choking on him. Or being choked by him.
I groaned, covering my face.
If they ever found out … if Teagan found out? My life would implode.
By the time the sun had set, I was at Elodie’s house, the soft string lights she’d hung up around her living room casting a golden, cozy haze over everything.
We were two glasses of wine in—cheap, pink, and exactly what I needed.
I curled my feet under me on her faded grey couch while Elodie lit a candle that smelled like freshly baked cookies while we ate store bought ones and said it was “for ambiance, obviously.”
She turned back toward me, holding her glass with a grin. “So, how’s the shop coming along?”
I hesitated for a beat too long. Swirled my wine. “It’s … going. Slow. Messy.”
She studied me for a second. “I heard Gavin’s been helping. Dad told me he’s doing the repairs?”
Small towns. Word travels fast. I nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah. He’s been … around a lot.”
Elodie arched a brow. “Around a lot?” she repeated, her tone full of suspicion. “Like … with a hammer and noble intentions, or like ‘this hammer isn’t the only thing he’s swinging’?”
I choked on my wine and slapped her leg. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m right, though.”
I couldn’t even argue. Not after everything that had happened.
So I told her.
All of it.
I told her how he’d shown up on the day of the flood, and how we’d shared Thai food in his truck the following evening. About the kiss, and the way I couldn’t stop thinking about all of it.
By the time I finished, Elodie was practically vibrating.
“Oh my God, Rosie. This is like … book porn. But real.”
I buried my face in my hands. “It’s not just that. It’s … more. It feels like more.”
She smiled gently and nudged my foot with hers. “I get it. And for the record? He’s hot. Like, really hot. For his age.”
I peeked through my fingers. “That’s not helping.”
“Too bad his daughter’s Satan.”
That sobered me. “El … What happened with you and Teagan?”
Her eyes flicked away for a second. “That’s not important right now,” she said, too fast. “We’re not talking about her. We’re talking about you and your dirty contractor boyfriend. Now, more details. I want to live vicariously through your corruption.”
Later that night, after Elodie had gone to bed and I was alone on her pull-out couch in my pajamas, I stared at my phone for a minute before typing out the simplest message possible.
ME
Hi
He replied instantly.
GAVIN
Hi, sweetheart.
I bit my lip, the heat blooming in my cheeks as I shifted on the cushions.
I lifted my phone, adjusted my position, and snapped a selfie.
The lamp behind me provided soft lighting that highlighted messy hair, wine-blushed cheeks, and my oversized sleep shirt hanging low enough to expose my bare shoulder completely. Just enough skin to tease him.
I hit send.
His reply came barely ten seconds later.
GAVIN
Jesus, Rose.
You trying to kill me?
Followed by a selfie.
He was in bed. Shirtless. The blankets rested low on his hips, revealing the deep V of his torso. His chest was broad and covered in a smattering of dark hair that narrowed toward his abs—thick, carved lines hardened from years of physical labor.
I swallowed hard.
I wanted to lick him.
Where did that thought come from?
ME
Not trying. But now I am thinking about how warm that bed looks.
GAVIN
It’d be warmer if you were in it.
ME
If I was in it, I wouldn’t be sleeping.
GAVIN
Neither would I.
I’d have you on your back, flushed and gasping. Hands above your head while I took my time with you, sweet girl.
My thighs clenched.
ME
You’re evil.
GAVIN
You started it.
Now I’m gonna be hard all night, thanks to that little shirt of yours.
I couldn’t stop smiling. My body ached, but my heart felt full—like this was something real, something dangerous and beautiful and entirely ours.
ME
Goodnight, Gavin.
GAVIN
Goodnight, Rose. Sweet dreams.
Try not to miss me too much.
Too late.
I already did.