Rose by Sydney Landon

packed with shirts and jeans that have what I guess are supposed to be fashionable rips and tears in them. If the bored-looking, bubble-gum chewing sales associate is any indication, we’ve landed in teen hell. Rose’s hand flexes within my own as we both stand uncertainly. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” she murmurs behind me.
    “Let’s go somewhere else,” I say as I try to pull her back through the door.
    When she doesn’t budge, I look down to find her staring up at me. She shifts uncomfortably before saying, “I—um, do you think I could look around?”
    For a moment, I think she’s joking, but a hint of longing in her voice tells me otherwise. Then it hits me. If what she told me earlier is any indication, she was never allowed to be young. She dresses older than her age, and I would bet money that she always has. I doubt she’s ever owned a piece of clothing like the ones surrounding us. “Sure, baby, pick out anything that you like,” I encourage as she moves timidly forward and begins flipping through the racks.
    She spends well over an hour walking every inch of the store as if entranced. At the end of that time, she has only one pair of jeans and a T-shirt over her arm. She comes to where I’m standing a few feet away and says, “I know this will sound stupid, but I would very much like to get this outfit. But I don’t want to try it on here.”
    “Okay,” I agree easily. “I’m sure you know what fits you, so it’s no big deal, sweetheart.” I point at the register. “Let’s go pay and move on to the next store.” She sets them on the counter, and I notice that her hands are shaking. Then it hits me. She wants the outfit, but this is the first time she’s picked something out on her own. Without saying anything, I drop an arm around her shoulders in wordless support and she snuggles into my side. Before I’m even aware of it, I’m dropping a kiss on the top of her head and feeling things that should have me sprinting for the nearest exit. My need to protect her is slamming up against the wall I’ve spent years carefully building around my heart.
    As I sign the receipt for our first purchase, she takes the bag, holding it carefully in her other hand as if it contains a rare treasure. “Thank you, Max,” she says sincerely.
    “You’re welcome, honey. Now, let’s see what else we can find.” She ends up doing the rest of her shopping in Nordstrom. A store that has enough of a high-end feel to make her comfortable. This time, she does take a stack into the dressing room. Then I find myself in the uncomfortable position of mentioning the undergarments that she hasn’t made any move toward getting. “Er—Rose, if you’re afraid that I have some strange panty fetish, you can relax. I know that you need underwear, and if it will make it easier for you, I can walk around the men’s section while you pick them out.” I pull my wallet from my pocket and take out my American Express card. “Here, take this and buy whatever you need. I’ll come back later on to see if you’re ready.”
    She stares down at the card, then back at me before shaking her head. “Oh no, counselor, there will be no running. You’ve wanted to get in my panties for months, and you’re fixing to get your chance.” She drops her gaze to see if her words are having the desired effect on me, and dammit, as usual, there’s a direct line from her lips to my cock.
    I put a hand on the nape of her neck and squeeze lightly. “You have no idea what you’re playing with,” I whisper in her ear. I’m gratified to feel her shudder.
    I think I’ve taken the upper hand until she pushes back against me, wedging her ass against my groin. “Then show me,” she tosses over her shoulder before pulling away from me.
    And just like that, she turns the tables, and I’m left wondering if I can remain only friends with the woman who is fast becoming an obsession to me.
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    O utside of a few rocky