Chapter 12-Rosalind
Oh.
My.
Lord.
Tonight feels like something out of a movie—or maybe a book I used to stay up late reading, tucked under the covers with a flashlight and a foolish hope that one day I’d get to be the girl.
I mean, I don’t do dates.
Not real ones.
Not the kind where the guy looks at you like you’re the whole damn show.
I’m the too-tall girl. The sparring partner. The dependable friend.
The one who blends in at work and always gets cast in the supporting role.
But right now? There’s nothing sisterly about what’s happening between me and Honor.
And the truth is—I don’t know how this is happening. Or how I’m letting it.
All I know, with terrifying clarity, is that I don’t want it to stop.
Because Honor is kissing me.
And it’s everything.
Not tentative. Not polite. Not cautious or calculated.
No, this kiss feels like a dam breaking.
Like he’s been fighting some internal war all night, and now I’m here with him in the moment he surrenders to it. To us.
This is dangerous. I should pull back.
He groans, and I echo the sound.
His lips are so soft. Tender. Strong.
His mouth claims mine with intent, heat pouring through every point of contact. His tongue sweeps between my lips, slow and deep, and I taste him—not just the last traces of that lavender-matcha ice cream we shared for dessert, but him.
Bold. Masculine. Warm.
Mine.
That thought—that impossible, forbidden, hopeful thought—wraps around me like a current.
My fingers dig into the front of his shirt, anchoring me to something real before I float away.
My toes curl inside my worn low-top Converse, my body trying to root itself to the earth while the rest of me comes completely unmoored.
Because this kiss?
It’s not a maybe.
It’s not a question.
It’s a promise.
One I never expected to get.
And God help me, I don’t want to let it go.
He groans—low and rough—right into my mouth, and the sound sends a shiver straight down my spine.
I open wider without thinking, welcoming him, needing more, and his hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair.
The other settles on my hip, firm and possessive, pulling me closer.
Still not close enough.
I whimper, the sound escaping me before I can stop it, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.
My hands slide under his shirt, palms pressing against hot, solid skin.
I swear I feel him tremble at the touch, just barely—but enough to make my chest ache.
Mine, my Bear purrs, satisfied and certain.
Somehow—at some point—I realize we’re no longer standing.
We’re on the blanket now.
The one I always keep folded in the back of my Jeep. The one meant for quiet nights and solitude. For stargazing. For thinking. For sitting alone with my thoughts and reminding myself that I’m steady. That I’m in control.
Not tonight.
Tonight, that illusion has shattered.
Tonight, Honor D’Amato asked me on a date.
Me.
Tall. Plump. Plain old Rosalind Carrera—the girl who learned early how to stand on her own, who doesn’t really have friends or family left to fall back on.
A Bear Shifter in good standing with the Barvale Clan.
A probationary Enforcer who knows better than this.
Who knows she’s supposed to protect him.
Keep him in the dark.
Keep the secret for his own good.
And instead?
I’m here. On my blanket. Letting him kiss me like I matter.
Like I’m something precious.
My conscience screams at me, sharp and relentless. This is wrong. You’re crossing lines. You’re risking everything. The Clan. My position. His safety.
The fragile balance I’ve spent my whole life maintaining.
But lust is louder.
Desire coils low in my belly, heavy and insistent, drowning out every rule I’ve ever lived by.
Because I can’t stop kissing him. I don’t want to stop kissing him.
Honor’s mouth moves against mine like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. Like he’s been wanting this—me—for longer than just tonight.
His hands cradle me with reverence, thumbs brushing my skin like he’s memorizing it.
No one has ever touched me like this.
No one has ever looked at me like I’m something to be cherished instead of tolerated.
Like I’m chosen.
And that undoes me.
Because I know I should pull away. I know I should end this before it goes any further.
But instead, I melt into him, my fingers curling into his shirt, my Bear purring beneath my skin, thrilled and possessive and utterly unconcerned with consequences.
Tonight, I’m not steady.
I’m not in control.
I’m a woman kissing the man she was never supposed to want—and letting herself believe, just for this moment, that maybe she’s allowed to have something good.
Even if it costs her everything.
It’s like the world narrowed the moment our mouths met, and everything else is just falling away.
His forehead rests against mine for half a heartbeat, breath warm, hands still holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
I’m dizzy. Warm. Unmoored.
If he touches me again—really touches me—I swear to God I might combust right here under the stars.
And the scariest part?
I don’t want him to stop.
“Just so we’re clear,” he murmurs against my mouth, voice rough with amusement, “I had a whole plan for tonight.”
“Oh?” I whisper, kissing him again before he can elaborate. “Was it this or more like talking?”
He laughs—actually laughs—right into my lips.
“There was supposed to be some talking involved.”
My Bear stirs, pleased.
He’s fun, she hums. Keep him.
“Talking’s overrated,” I say, tilting my head as I kiss him again, slower this time. “Besides, you’re the one who leaned in.”
“I know,” he admits, brushing his nose against mine. “I just didn’t expect you to—”
“What?” I ask innocently.
“—to taste so good. Just like trouble, Sunshine.”
My Bear purrs. Loudly.
If she had a long tail, it would be wagging.
I grin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Then, I kiss his neck, flicking his earlobe with my tongue.
He groans softly.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Doing what?” I ask, licking into his mouth again, cutting off his answer.
His hand tightens at my waist, grounding, careful.
“Kissing me, looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I tease and run my gaze up and down his hard body.
He exhales, forehead dropping to mine.
“Fuck. Like that. Exactly like that.”
Inside, my Bear leans forward, all smug certainty.
Mine. Mate.
I ignore her. Mostly.
“Well,” I say lightly, fingers curling into his shirt, “you did ask me out. I assumed you wanted honesty. And honestly, Honor, I want you.”
He chuckles, low and warm. “I thought you wanted dinner.”
“We had dinner. Now, it’s time for something else,” I say, unable to keep the smile out of my voice.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His brown eyes are bright, focused.
“Is that right?” he asks, voice low, eyes intent.
“If you think you can handle it,” I reply.
I have absolutely no idea where that bravado comes from.
It just appears.
Maybe my Bear slipped it in when I wasn’t looking.
Maybe Honor just brings out the beast in me.
Likely both. But I don’t care, because right then, he grins.
So I kiss him again—quick and playful—and he follows it instantly, deepening the kiss like he couldn’t stop himself if he tried.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing harder, foreheads nearly touching.
“This is escalating,” he says, sounding amused and just a little awed.
I shrug, doing my best not to look as pleased as my Bear feels.
She’s practically preening.
“You should see me when I really like someone.”
His brows lift and he frowns.
“This isn’t that?”
I smile slowly, leaning in until my lips brush his ear, enjoying the way his breath stutters.
“Oh, it definitely is.”
He exhales, hands firm at my waist.
“Good. ’Cause I want you too, Rosie. I want you bad.”
Gulp.
Oh. My.
Things just got very real—very fast—and the truth lands heavy and undeniable in my chest.
My pulse is racing so hard I can feel it in my throat. In my fingertips. Everywhere he touches—even when he’s not touching me yet.
My body feels warm and achy, like it’s waking up after a long sleep, like every nerve ending is leaning toward him, desperate for contact.
There’s so much I’m keeping from him—and that bothers me.
All the things I can’t say.
Not yet, my Bear insists. But maybe.
Maybe my Sow is right, and I should tell him everything.
I don’t know.
My thoughts are a mess, tangled up with want and fear and that dangerous, shimmering pull between us.
Right now, all I know is this—I want him too.
That’s okay, right?
People want each other all the time.
People cross lines and kiss and touch without it meaning forever.
Without promises.
Without claiming bites or fate getting involved.
Right?
I can have no strings sex if I want to, can’t I?
“Oh God,” I whimper.
Honor’s hands slide to my waist, rough and warm and sure, and my breath stutters at the contact.
It’s like my body recognizes him on some deeper level—like it’s been waiting for this spark, this exact connection, that only he seems capable of lighting.
I lean into him without meaning to, craving the solid heat of his body, the steadiness of him.
I need to feel that closeness again. Need the reassurance that this isn’t all in my head.
“Goddamn, Rosie,” he murmurs, voice thick and reverent. “You’re so beautiful. So soft. So fucking sweet.”
The way he looks at me—like I’m something precious, something he wants to protect and touch and keep—makes my chest ache.
I think I believe him.
“Want you so bad. Tell me you want me, too, Rosie. Tell me I can have you.”
It’s not a question. Not really.
His hands slide lower, stopping at the fastening of my pants.
His velvet eyes meet mine and the look in them? Pure heat.
My Bear thrums beneath my skin, satisfied and hungry all at once, urging me closer.
Claiming.
Promising.
But I can’t let go completely.
I can’t forget what I am.
What he is.
What this could become if I lose my grip.
So I press my forehead to his, breathing him in, grounding myself in the one thought I have to hold on to.
Stay.
In.
Control.
Because if I don’t—I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop at all. And something reckless in me doesn’t even want to.
“You can have me, Honor. Just for tonight,” I whisper and with a growl that isn’t quite human, he fuses his mouth to mine.