Rosalie Kasten is out of luck and out of time. For the last two years, she's been living on borrowed time. After her involvement with the death of Edwin Pierce - Alexander Pierce's son - it's only a matter of time before Hydra comes for her.
James...
Rosalie's breathing is all over the place as she washes her hands and stares at her own dishevelled appearance in the bathroom mirror. She can't stop the smirk from crossing her lips, and she curses her own reflection. Stupid smile. She bites the inside of her cheek and starts rolling her ring around her pointer finger. A laugh leaves her. This is too fucking absurd to be reality. Surely, she's going to open her eyes, and it will all have been a dream. A really good dream.
Rosalie can't fully understand that she just fucked James Barnes in a freaking kitchen. She shakes her head and presses the heel of her palm against her forehead. Maybe she isn't as smart as she likes to think.
With a heavy sigh, she unlocks the bathroom door and stumbles out with her wobbly legs. James is leaning against the wall, and he looks down at her as she steps out. He hands her a pair of his boxers and what looks like his sweatpants.
"I'll give you some cash for the underwear," he speaks with a husky voice, and he can't contain the smirk on his lips.
"You're just as broke as I am," she replies and takes the clothes out of his hand.
Rosalie pulls on the boxers and sweatpants. Both are massive on her, but she ties the sweatpants tightly around her waist, and the boxers are just barely able to cling to her with the elastic band. She begins walking back to the kitchen.
"Well, it's the least I can do, isn't it?" He asks, following her.
"James-"
"Call me Bucky."
"What? I'm not calling you some stupid nickname," she huffs and takes the salmon out of the oven. Good thing she put it on low heat. It smells delicious, but she's still scared it might've become dry. It had about 10 minutes longer than it should have. All things considered, it isn't too bad.
"I can't have you callin' me James after I've fucked you. My mom was the only one who called me James," he explains, and he's staying close to her. So close.
"I don't care about your mommy issues. Look, it was just sex. Nothing more." She turns around to stare at him, pointing up at his face. "And it's not happening again."
He smirks. "Fine, Rose." Her breath hitches by his use of her name, and he leans down close to her. His lips are ghosting up the side of her neck. Goosebumps are already rising again. Fuck. "Just call me Bucky, okay, doll?"
