Fowler Sisters: Stealing Rose Part 13

I shake my head, my gaze refocusing on him to find Caden staring at me, concern lighting his eyes. "What?"

"Is something wrong with your dinner?" When I shake my head in reply he continues. "I gotta admit. I'm disappointed in your choice."

"Why?" I glance down at my salad and grab my silverware, placing the napkin in my lap and pulling out the fork.

"You got a salad." He says salad like it's a dirty word. And not a good dirty word, either.

"What's wrong with a salad?" I spear up a few pieces of lettuce and a chunk of chicken, then take a bite, my tongue doing the happy dance when the medley of flavors and the sweet and tangy dressing hit my taste buds. What the h.e.l.l is Caden talking about anyway? This is a d.a.m.n good salad.

"At the White Swan you had a steak. Rare. And you ate every last bit of it."

"So?" I fork up another bite and chew, thankful the food came so quickly. I think the potent drink and my empty stomach combined with the overwhelming s.e.xiness that is Caden was doing a number on my mental state.

"It was the s.e.xiest thing I've ever seen, you eating that steak like you couldn't give a f.u.c.k what anyone thought." He grabs the gourmet hamburger from his plate and takes a big bite, chewing it with relish before he swallows. "So a salad seems sort of a ... weak choice."

This conversation is just beyond bizarre, but I'm starting to realize nothing is normal when it comes to me and Caden. "But the salad has chicken and bacon in it." I push the giant white bowl toward him so he can check it out. "See? You can't go wrong with bacon."

He contemplates my salad, then lifts his gaze to mine. "Can I have a bite?"

Nodding, I push the plate closer to him. "Go for it."

"You feed me," he says, his voice soft, his eyes intense.

"Okay." My voice is shaky and I clear my throat, hating the little sign of weakness. I flick the contents of my salad with the fork, looking for the extra-good stuff to feed him, like a little piece of bacon and chicken, making sure to get some Parmesan on the fork as well. I hold up the fork and he leans closer, parting his lips so I can feed him the bite, and he closes his lips around the tines of the fork. I slide it from his mouth, wondering when did feeding someone become so s.e.xy.

"Very good," he says after he swallows, then gestures to his plate. "Do you want to try mine?"

"Only if you feed me," I say, pleased at the dark flicker I see in his gaze. He cuts his burger in half and then holds out one of the halves toward me.

"Take a bite," he urges and I lean in, sinking my teeth into the burger, lifting my chin as I pull away and chew, savoring the delicious flavor of the meat and cheese and sauce. "Good?"

"Delicious," I say before I burst out laughing. Like, uncontrollable giggles that draw the attention of more than a few diners and even our waitress. I rest my hand over my mouth, trying to contain the laughter, but it's no use.

"What's so funny?" he asks, the smile on his face so cute that I do finally stop laughing, enraptured with his gorgeous face instead.

"I feel like we're seducing each other with food. Burgers and salads," I say, sounding ridiculous.

"We are," he agrees. "This has been one night of long, strung-out foreplay, don't you think?"

"Yes." I take a sip of my drink and realize there's not much left beyond melted ice. I rattle the ice in my gla.s.s, glancing around for the waitress, who's already disappeared. "Though so far I'm the only one who got off."

He laughs and shakes his head. "Stick with me for a while and I'll have you being brutally honest in no time."

I like the sound of that. Far more than I care to admit.

Chapter Twelve.

Caden

This is the longest day of my life and I'm not complaining. It didn't start off well. I woke up to Whitney standing over my bed, demanding that I go to breakfast with her, so I did. But all I could think about was Rose. Where was she? Who was she with? The woman is distracting and my wayward thoughts are stupid. Detrimental to my original intent.

Getting that d.a.m.n necklace.

When I turned down Whitney's offer of no-strings s.e.x earlier this morning, she informed me I might need to find somewhere else to stay. Which was fine, because I figured I needed to get the h.e.l.l out of London anyway. Things were getting too weird with Rose. As in, my feelings for her were getting too weird. I was thinking about her too much.

So I called my friend, the rich a.s.shole with the jet, Mitch.e.l.l. But he informed me that he's sticking around for a few more days. I could always go hang out with him at his parents' townhouse in Belgrave Square, but I pa.s.sed on the offer. It's just one party after another at that place.

And I craved something different. Found her, too. Luck was on my side, even though I tried to talk myself out of searching for her. It's been a strange experience with Rose. Fun and infuriating and s.e.xy as h.e.l.l and draining and exhilarating, she is all of that. All the emotions, all the effort and work and trouble.

Worth every bit of it, too. She's much like her namesake, a beautiful, tightly furled flower, and I'm slowly but surely peeling the petals back, bit by bit. Give her a little attention, some sun and water, and she begins to bloom.

That's exactly what's happening between us, to her. She's slowly but surely blooming. Coming into her own. And the more I discover, the more I like her. She doesn't take this thing between us too seriously. As in, she knows how to laugh at me, at herself, at the two of us. It's refreshing. She's adventurous, too. Never backs down from a challenge.

I like that. A lot. Too much, even.

Which means ... I'm completely f.u.c.ked.

I'm following her down the stairs toward the elevator. We finished dinner and had a couple more drinks, talking about everything and nothing as the restaurant slowly started to empty out. Until we were one of the last remaining occupied tables and the employees were starting to clean everything in preparation to close.

As I walk behind her, all I can think about is kissing her. f.u.c.king her. I have a condom in the back pocket of my jeans and I'm definitely going to use it. She wants it. I know she does. I saw the way she looked at me over her shoulder as we walked toward the elevator. We're waiting for it to arrive now, standing side by side, not looking at each other.

But the connection is there, vibrating between us like a living, breathing thing. She takes a step forward and I move so I'm standing directly behind her, resting my hand at her waist, pressing my face into her hair and taking a deep breath, the sweet scent of her shampoo filling my senses.

She ducks her head forward and I brush the thick, soft waves away from her neck, leaning in to kiss her nape. She shivers, her breath leaving her in a shuddery rush, and I slip my arm around her front, bringing her to me so her a.s.s makes direct contact with my hardening c.o.c.k, my hand splayed across her quivering stomach.

"Caden," she starts, a warning in her tone, but the arrival of the elevator stops her.

The doors slide open, revealing the elevator is empty, and I push her inside, the doors closing behind us, sealing us into this tiny, facsimile club atmosphere.

She turns so her back is pressed against the mirrored wall, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She's aroused. I bet if I reached between her legs my fingers would come away wet.

The music is low and sultry and the purple and green lights seem to flash in time to the beat. The elevator starts with a shake, making its descent slowly, and I turn to the control panel, pushing the red b.u.t.ton that stops the elevator in its tracks.

"What are you doing?" she asks, inhaling sharply when I crowd her, bracing my hands against the wall behind her. Her pulse is hammering at the base of her throat and her pupils are dilated. She's excited.

So am I.

"Giving us enough time so I can f.u.c.k you properly," I murmur just before I kiss her. Hard. She tilts her head back, her hands settling on the waistband of my jeans, undoing them and finding my c.o.c.k quickly since I'm not wearing anything underneath.

"You're just as bad," she breathes against my lips as she strokes my c.o.c.k. I falter in her hands, her touch driving me closer to the edge. I've been sitting on that f.u.c.king edge since I fingered her in the restaurant. "Not wearing any underwear."

"Wanted to be ready for you," I say, kissing her again, dropping one of my hands to her thigh so I can tug up her skirt. Her thigh is soft and trembles beneath my fingertips. "We're going to have to be quick."

"Okay," she says eagerly as she pushes at my jeans, shoving them down so they're wrapped around my thighs.

I reach behind me and pluck the condom from my back pocket, tearing open the wrapper and slipping the ring over the head of my c.o.c.k. She watches in fascination, reaching out to touch the tip, then running her finger along my length before she wraps her fingers around the base and guides me toward her.

"Come here." I pick her up with ease and she wraps her legs around my hips, her skirt shielding us. Without warning I thrust deep inside her, all the way to the hilt, and our mingling moans are loud, overpowering the low thrum of the music playing from the elevator speakers.

"Oh, G.o.d." She slams her head against the wall, her eyes falling shut, her teeth digging into her lower lip as I begin to thrust. I study her with fascination, loving the way her face hitches with my every push deep inside her body, a little whimper falling from her lips when I withdraw. She's so wet, it was easy to slide inside her p.u.s.s.y and I can feel it twitch and tremble, driving me f.u.c.king insane.

"Don't stop," she whispers, and there's no way in h.e.l.l I can. This is going to be fast and it's going to be brutal. I'm ramming myself deep, as deep as I can go, my b.a.l.l.s tightening, the familiar tingling at the base of my spine already starting. I'm gonna blow soon.

And I want to make sure she's coming along with me for the ride.

"You close?" I ask her, reaching in between us to stroke her c.l.i.t. She's sopping wet and sticky and I'm smearing it everywhere, on my c.o.c.k, on her c.l.i.t, trying my d.a.m.nedest to work her into a frenzy.

"Yes. Please, please, please." She's chanting, her mouth hanging open, her head thrown so far back her hair is like a crazed cloud against the mirror. I glance to my left, see that the wall isn't covered with the black pattern. It's nothing but plain mirrors.

Offering me a clear view of the two of us f.u.c.king.

"Look," I tell her, grasping her by her chin and forcing her to look to her right. Our gazes clash in the reflection and I reach between us, shoving up the skirt of her dress to her waist so our connected bodies are on perfect display.

"Oh, Caden." The words rush out of her breathlessly as I withdraw almost all the way out, my c.o.c.k glistening with her juices before I shove myself back inside. It's hot as h.e.l.l in the elevator. I'm sweating, she's sweating, the scent of s.e.x is heavy in the air and the music keeps playing, the green and purple lights casting us in a weird glow, the sight of my c.o.c.k moving inside of her body hurtling me closer and closer to the brink.

"You feel so good," I whisper, my words making her p.u.s.s.y clench tight around me. I grit my teeth, trying to control myself for at least a little longer. I want to ensure she's close to coming too, d.a.m.n it. "I think I'm addicted to your p.u.s.s.y."

She laughs. I love that she finds my remark humorous but I'm not lying. "Are you serious?"

I play with her c.l.i.t, her laughter dying on her lips, replaced by a moan instead. "Dead f.u.c.king serious, Ro. I love that pretty little p.u.s.s.y of yours. I never want to stop f.u.c.king it."

Her inner walls ripple with my words and I press my mouth close to her ear, whispering all sorts of dirty nothings, trying to get her off. h.e.l.l, getting myself off. She likes it dirty, this girl. I squeeze her a.s.s, thrust my c.o.c.k so deep inside her she screams and then she's coming, my name falling from her lips, her hands clutching me as tight as her p.u.s.s.y clutches around my c.o.c.k and then I'm coming too ...

Right at the moment the little hideaway phone in the control panel of the elevator starts ringing.

"What the h.e.l.l is that?" she asks breathlessly.

"s.h.i.t." I withdraw from her reluctantly and pull off the condom, tying off the end before I go to the stupid phone and answer it.

"Sir, is everything all right? We received an emergency notice that the elevator you're in has come to a complete stop," the nasally disembodied voice asks.

"We're fine," I say gruffly, hitting the b.u.t.ton again so the elevator starts once more with a violent jerk. I hang up on her before she can ask me anything else just as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open.

Thank Christ no one is waiting for it. I turn to Rose to see she's set herself back to rights, though her hair is still a bit of a mess. I smooth it down for her in the back, earning a quick smile for my efforts.

The sight of that smile sends a strange little pang straight to my heart. I'd do anything to see it again.

You've turned into a complete p.u.s.s.y.

I ignore the s.h.i.tty voice in my head and take Rose's arm, leading her out of the hotel so that we're standing on the sidewalk, the busy Sat.u.r.day night traffic pa.s.sing us by.

She turns to face me, her expression unreadable, and worry fills me. Is this it? Is she going to tell me thanks for the f.u.c.ks but she's gotta go? I don't know if I can take it.

"Well, that was ... interesting," she finally says, making me chuckle. That's exactly what she said to me after our incident at the White Swan, when I had her coming all over my fingers in minutes.

Our every encounter is what I would call interesting. And I'm interested in seeing her more.

I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her in close, relief flooding me. It's time for me to be honest. "I don't want this night to end," I whisper close to her ear.

She leans into me, her hair brushing against my chin. "I don't, either," she admits.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" It's late, but the city is still busy and it's a Sat.u.r.day night. There's plenty we could find to do.

But all I want is her. Naked. Beneath me in bed, her legs wrapped around me, our bodies locked together.

Rose slowly shakes her head, tilting her head back so her gaze meets mine. "Let's go back to my hotel room. That is, if you want to. Or maybe you need to get back to ..."

I rest my finger over her lips, silencing her. "I don't need to get back to anything or anyone. Just you."

She smiles and I drop my hand, wrapping it around her nape so I can pull her in for a kiss. "Come back with me, then," she whispers just before I kiss her.

We kiss for so long out on the sidewalk a pa.s.serby tosses out a glib, "Get a room," bringing us back to reality. I hail a cab, Rose hanging on me like she's become an extension of my body, and when the little black cab pulls over, we pile into the backseat, my hands on her a.s.s since she crawled in first.

She rattles off her hotel name and address and then she's falling on top of me, her hands scratching down my chest, her mouth on mine. I pull her closer, my hands on her waist as I lose myself in her kiss. This all just feels so normal. So f.u.c.king regular. This is what guys do, right? Find a girl and fall hopelessly in l.u.s.t with her. Think about her all the time. Flirt with her, fight with her, have awesome makeup s.e.x with her. Eventually fall in love, move in together, get married and have kids.

I have never in my life wanted that. I saw what marriage did to people. It f.u.c.ked them up. Look at my parents. I figured from a young age that I was better off alone. I protected myself. No way did I want to fall for one girl. Why would I want to do that when I could have many girls?

But I like this one girl. I like her a lot. And I don't want her to know anything about me. My truth is my shame. If she knew what I was really about, if she learned why I originally started talking to her that night in Cannes not so long ago-because I want to steal her family's necklace-she'd hate me forever.

I don't think I could deal with that.

What are my choices, though? Keep up the pretense that I'm something I'm not and eventually let her go? Eventually steal the necklace and leave in the dark of the night, never to return?

That's your only choice, a.s.shole.

Then I guess that's what I'm going to do. Savor every sweet smile she gives me. Savor the way she touches me, kisses me, looks at me ...

And then walk away.

"I really like kissing you," she murmurs against my lips, pulling me back into reality.

I brush her wild hair away from her face and smile up at her. "I like kissing you too."

"Even in uncomfortable taxicabs." She kisses my cheek, my jaw, my chin. "I could do this all night."

"Kiss me in the back of a cab?" I ask her.