Page 10 of Rose's Ripped Van Winkle

I coax her tongue to dance with mine. It feels so right, as if our bodies and tongues have been playing together for years in the wilds of space and time.

Her warmth radiates from her, washing over me. Her scent is like a sunny embrace, sweet and inviting, beckoning me closer still, though the only way for us to get closer is for one of us to crawl under the other’s skin.

The kiss continues as our breathing becomes shorter and more labored. I’m intoxicated by the flowery scent of her skin, the feel of her body against mine. My senses are alive with pleasure.

We break away when our desire threatens to overwhelm us, our foreheads resting together while we catch our breath, inhaling each other’s exhalations, each other’s passion.

I look into Rose’s eyes once again. They’re filled with wonder and passion—the same emotions coursing through my veins right now. We share a small smile before she grips my hands, takes a pace back, pierces me with her emerald gaze, and says, “That was terrifying.”

My heart slams in my chest, but not because I feel rejected. I simply nod, waiting for her to continue. Something more wonderful than the kiss is coming. My Rose is going to allow me a peek into her heart.

“This is crazy.” She shakes her head, then spears me with her gaze, waiting for me to argue with her. How could I insist what’s happening between us is sane when she’s talking to a man who’s over a hundred years old?

“Yes. Crazy.” I can’t let that statement stand, though. I add, “And wonderful.”

She gives me a smile and a nod. “I’ll agree.” Her demeanor turns serious as she glances through the leaves overhead and says, “It will be getting dark soon. How about you hold my hand, walk me home, and I tell you a little about Rose Bennett?”

Chapter Ten

Rose

As we traipse through the trees and underbrush, I allow myself to relive that kiss. One word—otherworldly—sums it up.

Waves of energy are still swirling through my limbs and torso, reminding me the body I live in has needs. So this is how girls in my school ended up pregnant. The pull to keep kissing—and so much more—is very compelling indeed.

I managed some stolen kisses with boys in my sect when I was younger. They were so furtive and fraught with danger it was more terrifying than fulfilling.

After I escaped the cult, the last thing I wanted was a romantic entanglement. Although, if I’d known a kiss could feel like that, perhaps I would have fallen into promiscuity.

No. No one I’ve met could have made me feel the things I felt during that kiss. No one but Rip.

He twines his fingers through mine, then remains silent. He knows I’m working myself up to something big and is giving me all the time I need to mentally prepare.

Finally, I take a deep breath and begin. “My family was part of a strict religious sect that wasn’t fond of outsiders. There were rules about everything, from cutting our hair to what we could wear, to all the secrets we had to keep when we went to school.”

I don’t need to glance at him to know he’s listening. He gives my hand a little squeeze and keeps walking. It’s easier talking this way, with both of us looking straight ahead.

“My dad and the church elders wanted the world to see how wonderful our way of life was, hoping they’d garner converts. So they made a deal with a television network and my family became the stars…” I stop here and have to make air quotes even though I doubt he knows what that gesture means.

I slide my fingers through his and continue. “My parents got a great deal of money, and in exchange, every moment of my life was grist for the entertainment of every person on the planet who cared to watch.”

Rip stops walking and bends to kiss the top of my head. Just this sweet, caring gesture tells me all I need to know about his compassion and kindness, as well as how intimately he understands me. Still, I want to get this out of the way, so I feel compelled to keep talking.

“When I was little and had a tantrum over my older sister taking my doll? Millions of people watched. When I practiced my spelling with my oldest brother and got ten out of twenty wrong? Everyone saw it. When I got my period and ran to my mother, terrified that I was dying? Seen. By. Everyone.”

I feel him slowing, indicating he’d love to take me in his arms and hold me, but I keep walking.

“My parents got rich, and I got exploited. Recently, I sued them, which also made the news. The money I won in the lawsuit allowed me to buy your lovely cottage.”

I pause to catch my breath before continuing. “When I had free time at school, I’d read science and history books. Things that weren’t discussed inside our walls. I wanted to know more about the world outside our compound.”

Pausing, I consider what else I need to tell him, but I think that’s enough. I feel complete.

Except I realize I should add, “My dad and two of my older brothers reach out regularly. No matter how many times I change my number, they find me and try to coerce me to come back into the fold.”

“The baseball cap?” he asks quietly.

“Between hiding from my family and evading the paparazzi—the journalists—keeping a low profile, especially in public is job number one.”

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