Prologue #2
"Okay, I'll stay with you tonight." The words feel like stepping off a cliff, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. "But just to sleep. I'm not... I can't..."
"Hey." He lifts our joined hands, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. "Just to sleep. Just so you're not alone."
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by something that might be disappointment. "Really?"
"Really." But the way he's looking at me suggests he's hoping I might change my mind. "Unless you want more than that."
Do I? The thought of being touched with tenderness instead of possession, of being wanted instead of controlled, sends heat spiraling through my body. It's been so long since I felt desired instead of just... useful.
"I don't know what I want," I admit.
"That's okay. We've got all night to figure it out."
He settles our bill and leads me to the elevator, his hand warm and steady on my lower back. I should be nervous, should be second-guessing this decision. Instead, I feel calmer than I have in months.
His room is on the fifteenth floor, a standard business suite that somehow feels more welcoming than the luxury penthouse Zack always insists on. Rosco doesn't turn on the overhead lights, just the bedside lamp that casts everything in warm, golden tones.
"You want something to drink? Water, soda from the minibar?"
"Water would be great." I hover near the door, suddenly unsure. What's the protocol for this? I've never spent the night with a stranger, never done anything this impulsive.
He brings me a bottle of water and settles into the armchair by the window, leaving the bed and most of the room to me. The consideration in that simple gesture makes my chest tight.
"So," I say, perching on the edge of the bed. "This is awkward."
"It doesn't have to be." His smile is easy, relaxed. "Want to watch a movie? Talk? I can bore you to sleep with stories about foundation problems and load bearing walls."
I laugh, and it feels so good I want to do it again. "Construction stories might actually be exactly what I need right now. Something completely removed from my real life."
"Your real life that fucking sucks?"
The blunt assessment makes me wince. "It's not that simple."
"Isn't it?" He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "You're beautiful, intelligent, and clearly successful. You should be with someone who treats you like the goddamn treasure you are, not worrying about whatever asshole you’re leaving behind."
"You don't understand. Zack... he's not always like this. When things are good between us, they're really good. And he takes care of me, provides for me. I'd be lost without him."
"Bullshit." The word is quiet but absolute. "You'd be free without him."
"Free to what? Struggle to pay rent? Wonder where my next meal is coming from?"
"Free to breathe without permission. Free to laugh without checking to see if it's too loud. Free to talk to strangers in hotel bars without worrying about the consequences."
Each word hits hard because they're all true. Every single one.
"It's not that easy to just leave."
"I know." His voice gentles. "But tonight, you did leave. You're here, with me, making your own choices. That's a start."
"Is it?"
"Hell yes, it is." He moves to sit beside me on the bed, careful to maintain distance. "And tomorrow, you can choose again. And the day after that."
"What if I make the wrong choice?"
"Then you learn from it and choose differently next time. That's what strong women do."
Strong women. The phrase hits something deep inside me. When did I stop thinking of myself as strong? When did I become someone who needed saving instead of someone who could save herself?
"I used to be strong," I whisper.
"You still are. Being in a bad situation doesn't make you weak, Gia. Surviving it makes you fucking powerful."
The conviction in his voice breaks something loose inside me. Tears I've been holding back for months finally spill over, and I bury my face in my hands.
"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry."
"You didn't. I just... no one's told me I was strong in a really long time."
"Then they're all blind idiots." The bed dips as he moves closer. "Can I hold you? Just hold you?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. His arms come around me carefully, like he's afraid I might break. But instead of feeling fragile, I feel safe. Protected. Cherished in a way I'd forgotten was possible.
"That's it," he murmurs against my hair. "Let it out. You're safe now."
And I do. I cry for the woman I used to be, for the dreams I gave up, for the life I've been living in quiet desperation. I cry until there's nothing left, and through it all, Rosco holds me like I'm something precious.
When the tears finally stop, I'm curled against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. "I'm sorry. You didn't sign up for this."
"Actually, I'm pretty sure I did." His hand strokes through my hair, soothing and gentle. "The moment I saw you sitting at that bar looking like you needed someone to give a damn about you."
"Why do you care? You don't even know me."
"Maybe not yet. But I know enough." He tilts my chin up so I'm looking at him. "I know you're brave enough to come to a conference alone when you're hurting. I know you're kind enough to worry about ruining a stranger's evening. I know you light up when you talk about your dreams."
"And I know you're beautiful enough to stop my heart."
The last words are whispered against my lips as he leans down to kiss me. It's soft at first, questioning, giving me every opportunity to pull away. Instead, I kiss him back, pouring months of loneliness and need into the connection.
He tastes like whiskey. When his tongue traces my lower lip, I open for him with a soft moan that seems to flip a switch inside him.
Suddenly we're kissing like we're drowning and each other is air. His hands tangle in my hair while mine fist in his shirt, pulling him closer. I can feel the restraint in his touch, the careful way he holds back even as his body responds to mine.
"Gia." He groans against my mouth. "We should stop."
"Why?" I'm breathless, dizzy with want and the intoxicating feeling of being desired.
"Because you're vulnerable, and I don't want to take advantage."
"What if I want you to?" The words slip out bold and needy. "What if I need to feel something other than afraid?"
"Sweetheart..." The endearment makes my heart skip.
"Please, Rosco. Help me remember what it feels like to be wanted instead of owned."
Something dark and possessive flashes in his eyes. "You sure about this?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
That's all the permission he needs. He kisses me again, deeper this time, more demanding. His hands roam over my body with reverent appreciation, mapping every curve like he's trying to memorize me.
When he reaches for the hem of my blouse, I help him pull it over my head. His sharp intake of breath when he sees the lacy black bra I chose this morning makes me feel powerful for the first time in months.
"Fucking gorgeous," he breathes, his hands skimming over my skin with worshipful touches. "Every inch of you."
He worships my body with his mouth and hands, taking his time to explore every sensitive spot until I'm trembling with need. When he finally strips away the last barriers between us, I expect to feel exposed, and vulnerable.
Instead, I feel beautiful. Desired. Powerful.
"Tell me what you need," he whispers against my throat.
"You. Just you."
And when he finally joins our bodies together, moving with a tenderness that brings tears to my eyes, I understand what I've been missing. This isn't just sex. This is connection. This is what it feels like to be cherished.
Afterward, we lie tangled together in the dark, my head on his chest while his fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"For what?"
"For reminding me who I used to be."
"You mean who you still are." He presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."
"I have to go back tomorrow. To Vancouver, to my life, to..." I can't bring myself to say Zack's name.
"I know." His arms tighten around me. "But tonight, you're here. With me. And that's enough."
Except it's not enough. As I drift off to sleep in his arms, I know that one night with Rosco Kane will never be enough. He's shown me what I've been missing, what I deserve, what real connection feels like.
And I have no idea how I'm going to go back to my old life knowing what I'm giving up.