He can do it, too. I have faith. My body responds to his touch, his words, as if he owns me. He steals words and thoughts from me so effortlessly it’s as if I have no control. I’m his to play with as he chooses.
“Come here,” he whispers and I lean closer to him, sucking in a surprised gasp when he presses his mouth to mine, kissing me right there in the middle of the restaurant, his fingers busy, his tongue tangling with mine, and I can’t take it. The orgasm sweeps over me, short and hot, just enough to send a shiver through me, my belly clenching, my inner walls grasping around his finger, wanting more before he withdraws his fingers from my body and breaks the kiss.
The satisfied expression on his face cannot be denied. He enjoyed that tremendously and I can’t lie, I did too.
“You’re flushed,” he says, his voice a lower murmur that prickles along my nerve endings.
“Do I really need to explain why?” My hands are still shaky as I grab my drink and drain it, the potent alcohol swimming in my veins.
He grins and brings his hand to his mouth—the very hand that had just been between my legs. “I already know why. What I’d like to know is did you enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
“Ever done anything like that before?” I swear he’s sniffing his fingers, sniffing me, and I want to melt. I want to take his hand and drag him off somewhere private so we can finish what we started.
“No.” I shake my head, all the breath leaving me when he licks the tip of his index finger, his eyelids wavering the slightest bit.
“Passion.” He rubs his fingers together and I see them glisten in the candlelight. “You’re still on my fingers.”
I don’t say a word. I can’t. He’s stolen my ability to speak yet again.
“And you taste pretty fucking amazing, Rose. Better than any drink or dinner I can get here.” He sucks his index finger into his mouth for the briefest moment before he withdraws it, reaching out to draw a line of dampness across the top of my forearm. “Marked.”
I feel like everything inside of me is being strangled. I can’t breathe right, I can’t think, I can’t hear or smell or see. The waitress is back but I have no idea what she’s saying to us, and Caden is chatting her up as she places his dinner in front of him, then sets my plate in front of me. I think I murmur thank you to her but I can’t be sure.
I’m not sure of anything anymore.
The moment she’s gone, I focus on Caden, see that he grabs his beer bottle with the hand that had been between my legs and rubs his fingers all over the surface, gathering up the condensation so he can clean his hands of … me.
That’s sort of hot.
He picks up his silverware wrapped in a pristine white cloth napkin and unrolls it, setting the napkin in his lap and placing the knife and fork on either side of his plate.
“Rose?”
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 hell is Caden talking about anyway? This is a damn 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 sexiness that is Caden was doing a number on my mental state.
“It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, you eating that steak like you couldn’t give a fuck 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 sexy.
“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 glass, 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 damn necklace.
When I turned down Whitney’s offer of no-strings sex 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 hell 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 asshole with the jet, Mitchell. 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 passed 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 sexy as hell 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 f
urled 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 fucked.
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. Fucking 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 ass makes direct contact with my hardening cock, 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 button 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 fuck 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 cock quickly since I’m not wearing anything underneath.
“You’re just as bad,” she breathes against my lips as she strokes my cock. I falter in her hands, her touch driving me closer to the edge. I’ve been sitting on that fucking 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 cock. 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, God.” 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 pussy and I can feel it twitch and tremble, driving me fucking insane.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, and there’s no way in hell 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 balls 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 clit. She’s sopping wet and sticky and I’m smearing it everywhere, on my cock, on her clit, trying my damnedest 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 fucking.
“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 cock glistening with her juices before I shove myself back inside. It’s hot as hell in the elevator. I’m sweating, she’s sweating, the scent of sex 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 cock moving inside of her body hurtling me closer and closer to the brink.
“You feel so good,” I whisper, my words making her pussy 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, damn it. “I think I’m addicted to your pussy.”
She laughs. I love that she finds my remark humorous but I’m not lying. “Are you serious?”
I play with her clit, her laughter dying on her lips, replaced by a moan instead. “Dead fucking serious, Ro. I love that pretty little pussy of yours. I never want to stop fucking 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. Hell, getting myself off. She likes it dirty, this girl. I squeeze her ass, thrust my cock 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 pussy clutches around my cock 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 hell is that?” she asks breathlessly.
“Shit.” 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 button 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 pussy.
I ignore the shitty v
oice in my head and take Rose’s arm, leading her out of the hotel so that we’re standing on the sidewalk, the busy Saturday night traffic passing 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 fucks 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 Saturday 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 passerby 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 ass since she crawled in first.