Ivan wasn’t kidding when he said he’d been ready for Rosalie’s arrival for years.
She has her own room in this big house, and it’s clear that Ivan designed it just for her.
This place is like a time capsule.
The décor is stuck halfway between childhood and something more grown up. The walls are pink. A white dresser has a music box full of jewelry and a few little teddy bear statues on top of it. The matching vanity holds a giant spotlighted mirror, perfume, and a makeup kit. Dresses of various sizes—seriously, 5T to women’s large—fill the walk-in closet. Shoes, too. There’s a cushioned bench under the window, and when I opened it, I found a few dozen stuffed animals inside along with a child’s catcher mitt, a baseball, and a bat.
I never knew someone could be so prepared for so long. And Ivan has been ready for any version of Rosalie. For as long as her father has known about her, he’s been willing to accept her at any age, shape, or size.
That’s love.
Going along with Ivan’s future plans comes with risk—he claims he won’t interfere with our lives, but if we’re living in one of his houses, we’ll be dependent on him. Part of me balks at the idea of accepting such generosity. As a grown man, I want to provide for my family, but the truth is, we’re out of options and we need Ivan’s help. There are still people out there looking for us, and it’s dangerous for us to stay anywhere near Michigan. Getting out of the country altogether is ideal.
Of course, this means flying over the ocean, which will be terrifying for my wife. Nico might need to shoot her with the tranquilizer gun just to get her through the trip, which is scheduled for tomorrow morning on Ivan’s private jet.
“Everything’s happening so fast.” Rosalie rolls over in bed to face me.
“Isn’t that how we like to do things?” I tease.
Amused, she hums. “Guess so.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll get out of here.” I pinch a wisp of her hair between my fingers and feel the cool smoothness. “We’ll be so far away, you won’t even feel like we’re on the same planet.”
“The Maldives. Where exactly is that?”
“Southern Asia. It has beautiful beaches.”
She shudders. “Why does it have to be by water?”
“A lot of vacation homes are. Plus, I’m pretty sure there’s no extradition there. If Ivan needs to hide from the law, it would be a smart place to go.” I lightly tap her chin. “I think you could get used to the water. You might even grow to love it. With some therapy—”
“You think I need a shrink? But you said I’m not crazy.”
“Don’t look so offended, baby.” I try to keep my smile reassuring because, yeah, she needs counseling. It could take years for her to work through the shit of her life, but I don’t say that. “Lots of normal people go to therapy. Loralee tainted your view of mental health. She made you believe there’s either sane or insane, when in reality, there’s a vast expanse of everything in between. Your trauma wasn’t inherited. Something happened to you when you were young, and it changed you.”
“What do you think happened?” Rosalie twists her lips to the side as she studies me. “Sometimes you talk as if you know more about me than I know about myself.”
“How about I tell you what our lives will be like once we get to our destination?” I suggest.
If she notices the change in subject, she doesn’t call me out on it. “Okay. Will we get jobs?”
“I don’t think we’ll have to. Not with the money Ivan’s giving us.”
“Then what will we do all day?”
I push Rosalie onto her back and climb over her. “I’ve got a lot of ideas.”
Her legs fall open, and my cock notches against her hot pussy. Unable to hold still, she squirms, rubbing herself on my dick.
She moans softly, trailing her finger over my bare shoulder as she bites her lip. “Be specific.”
God, she’s so perfect for me. Gorgeous. Fiercely loyal.
Always ready to love me.
That’s the big one—she shows me love in so many ways. How she puts me first. How she’s willing to fight for us. How her body lights up every time I’m close.
Jokingly, I rattle off a couple mundane activities that have nothing to do with sex. “We can go for walks. Drink non-alcoholic pina coladas. Oh.” A great idea comes to me. “You could set up with your paints and canvases on the boardwalk and sell portraits.”
Grinning, Rosalie playfully pokes my shoulder. “Uh, super fun, and we can revisit that idea another time, but I was thinking something hotter.”
“Ah.” I nod knowingly. “Sunbathing.”
Rosalie laughs. “Only if you’re fucking me while we do it.”
I still don’t take the bait. “That might result in some pretty weird tan lines.”
She lets out a cute growl. “Stop toying with me, Preston. I need you now.”
Remembering she was just looked over by the doctor, I mentally debate between ravaging her and getting her some Advil. “How was your checkup?”
“The doctor said I’m doing great.”
I watch her for a sneeze, but it doesn’t come.
“I’m serious,” Rosalie insists. “After taking my temperature and my vitals, my father’s doctor told me he didn’t think I’d need medical intervention to get through my withdrawals. I’m a bit dehydrated, underweight, and likely dealing with a vitamin D deficiency, given my lack of sun exposure. But that’s nothing some water, food, and supplements can’t fix. The doctor said he’d fly out to the vacation home to check in on me a few weeks once we’re settled. Talk about a house call, right?”
“In that case…” I thrust against her, then I start unbuttoning her pink satin pajama top. “I can think of some sexy activities. We’ll lounge around naked with the back doors wide open.” I circle her nipple before giving it a pinch.
Gasping, she grinds against my cock. “What else?”
“We’ll be able to feel the warm breeze on our skin as we fuck in broad daylight.” Sliding down, I scrape my teeth over her stomach. “I think day-fucking will be our new favorite hobby. And, baby, I can’t wait to watch you ride me.”
“Who says you have to wait?”
I halt my descent, and my eyes snap up to hers. The bedside lamp casts a dim light over her face. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s giving me that look. So much heat and desire.
Rosalie hasn’t taken the lead during sex yet. She’s just been enjoying what I give her, learning what I show her is possible.
Now she’s going to show me.
Wiggling out from under me, she gets me onto my back. My black sweatpants are dramatically tented, and all she has to do to free my erection is tug the stretchy waistband down.
I watch her as she pushes her own pants off. Straddling me, she lets her unbuttoned shirt slide off her shoulders, and she tosses it to the end of the bed.
I’ve got the best fucking view.
Some of her brown hair has come loose from the French braid I put it in. Long wisps frame her face, and the braid is draped over her shoulder, just begging to be grabbed.