Stealing Rose

  And she would be right.

  “You told me what? That you know Whitney’s boyfriend? That you disappear for a solid fifteen minutes only to return looking a little, hmm … how should I put it—disheveled? That’s the polite term, at least.” She takes a bite out of the gooey fruit tart she ordered, little bits of powdered sugar sticking to her lips.

  I may as well tell her and get this over with. “He’s the one who walked away from me,” I admit, my voice low, my appetite waning despite the outrageously delicious chocolate éclair I’ve nibbled on. Can’t remember the last time I indulged in something so sinful.

  Maybe last night? When you let a handsome stranger finger you to orgasm in a bathroom?

  My cheeks bloom with heat just thinking about it.

  “Wait a minute.” Violet licks the sugar from her lips and leans in closer. “Caden is the guy who ditched you in Cannes? When you were naked in the pool?”

  Could she broadcast that any louder? “Yes. He is.” Deciding to hell with it, I grab the éclair from my plate and bite into it with relish, the combination of the cream filling, the flaky pastry, and the chocolate frosting like a little explosion of heaven in my mouth.

  Still not as good as that orgasm I had last night, though.

  “Rose. You’re messing around with a taken man.”

  I make a face. She makes it sound so sordid. “I am not.”

  “You are. He’s Whitney’s boyfriend,” Violet stresses, looking appalled. As if she has any room to talk, torn between two men like she was not too long ago.

  “No, he’s not her boyfriend. At least, he said he’s not.” Doubt clouds my brain and I take another drink of coffee, feeling everything within me perking up from the jolt of caffeine. But along with the jolt comes reality.

  What if Whitney really is his girlfriend? I’d feel like a home wrecker. I’d be a home wrecker. And that sucks.

  “And when did he tell you this? When the two of you snuck off and did … whatever?” Violet arches a brow.

  Busted. “Fine. I went to the bathroom. He followed me. End of story.” I take another bite before I tell her everything. I’m so tempted to spill my guts, but some things are better left unsaid.

  “He followed you into the bathroom at the White Swan.” She shakes her head, a sly smile forming. “You are so bad, Rose. Whitney’s my friend.”

  “And Caden isn’t her boyfriend,” I say again.

  “According to Caden. Whitney might have a different perspective,” Violet points out.

  I say nothing. Just continue to munch on my éclair as if I don’t have a care in the world.

  Funny thing is, I don’t feel bad about what happened. I believed Caden when he said Whitney wasn’t his girlfriend. Maybe that’s me being a naïve fool, but they just didn’t give off that proper boyfriend/girlfriend vibe. Plus, the sparks between us were just too abundant to ignore.

  I left the table on purpose. To see if he’d follow, and he did. I took that as a sign. That something was meant to happen between us. Silly, I suppose, but I was also buzzed after drinking three beers in quick succession. A girl’s allowed to do stupid stuff every once in a while. That was my one stupid move.

  I should probably leave it at that.

  “Was he as shocked to see you as you were to see him?” Violet presses.

  “I don’t know. We didn’t talk much.” First there had been too much kissing, and then he said all of those deliciously dirty things … I still can’t believe some of the things he said and did.

  I want to experience them again.

  No. No, you really don’t.

  “Ha. You didn’t talk much.” Violet shakes her head. “This is just so scandalous. You go from being a hermit hiding in your hotel room to getting it on in a pub bathroom. Talk about a complete turnaround.”

  “Violet. Please.” I glance around the bakery, but no one is paying us any mind. It’s a late Saturday morning and the place is busy, but everyone is too wrapped up in their own little worlds to hear my sister broadcast that I fooled around in a restaurant bathroom. “So … do you know anything about him?” I’m trying to play this cool, but it’s probably a waste of time. Besides, I’m talking to Violet and she won’t judge. Not too harshly, at least.

  “About who? Caden?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes. Caden.” I know nothing beyond that he’s gorgeous, he has a voice that can melt me with a few whispered words, he can kiss like no other, and he knows his way around a woman’s body.

  Meaning, I’d love to see him again.

  “Not really. I talked about him some with Whitney. You know what’s weird? She’s never mentioned him to me before.”

  “What do you mean?” I frown.

  “I mean, she never even uttered his name until I met him last night,” Violet explains.

  “Really?” I’m eager for any bit of gossip I can discover about Caden. “If they were serious, she’d surely mention him to you, right? Aren’t you two pretty good friends?”

  “Yes. We’ve become close since Ryder and I came to London.” Violet nods, takes a thoughtful sip of her coffee. “She said a few things about him right before you took off to the bathroom.”

  “Like what?” I finish off the éclair because hello, it’s amazing. I’ll just skip lunch. Maybe dinner, too. I don’t know. This isn’t a smart move, meeting my sister at a bakery full of pastries. Now I’m tempted to buy a box of those gorgeous, colorful, and delicate macarons that are so popular and take them back to the hotel room so I can snack on them later.

  “That they’re old friends, they’d known each other forever, went to school together in the States.” Violet smiles. “Listen to me—I sound like I plan on living here forever.”

  “You’d better not,” I mutter, determined to get the conversation back to Caden. “Isn’t Whitney from New York?”

  “Yes, and so is Caden.”

  “What’s his last name?” A little Google could go a long way if I had more concrete facts.

  “I don’t know. She never mentioned it.” Violet tilts her head. “Tell me what happened in that bathroom last night.”

  “You do not want to know.” She doesn’t. I don’t want any major details about her sex life and I know she feels the same. “Let’s just say it was an enlightening experience.”

  “And you’d like to see him again.” Violet smirks.

  I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Yes, I would. But I don’t want to sound too eager.

  “I’m going to call Whitney later, try and drill her for information,” Violet starts, but I shake my head, cutting her off.

  “Don’t do that. Please. I don’t want it to be too obvious. I think … I know she suspected something last night.”

  “Of course she did. That’s why I interrupted her little conversation with Caden. I didn’t want it to erupt into some sort of drunken argument. Because she was definitely drunk, though I don’t know about Caden.”

  He’d seemed relatively sober, but my perception could have been off. “Yeah, well, you probably shouldn’t go digging for information and get her suspicions up.”

  “Do you have no faith in me? I know how to dig without being obvious.” Violet laughs, but I don’t.

  Maybe I don’t want her to find out anything else. I sort of like how mysterious Caden is. I know nothing beyond his first name, the taste of his lips, and the wonderful things he can do to me with his fingers.

  And I’m thinking maybe that’s plenty enough.

  Violet and I part after our little discussion at the bakery. She has to go meet Ryder for whatever reason and I don’t want to go back to my boring hotel room on such a beautiful Saturday, so I decide to wander through the shops, trying to take my mind off what happened last night.

  Shopping doesn’t help, though. I come upon a gorgeous little lingerie shop, and every sexy little bit of lace and silk I admire makes me wonder if Caden would like it. I don’t need any new lingerie, but that doesn’t stop me from buying a handful of lace thong p
anties, all in a variety of bright, fun colors, though I also get a basic black pair. They’re thin enough that a man with strong hands could probably tear them right off my body.

  Clearly my imagination is running rampant today.

  Plus, every tall man with light brown hair I see I immediately think is Caden. Stupid, really, but I can’t help it. He plays heavily on my mind, and I keep reliving that moment when he followed me last night. When I glanced in the mirror and saw him standing there, his expression thunderous, his gaze dark and unwavering. How we never said much beyond a few words before he pulled me into his arms and kissed me senseless, then stroked me into oblivion.

  Does he think I’m easy? Is the conquest completed and he’s ready to move on? What does he do? Who is he exactly, and why was he in Cannes? God, was he there with Whitney and after our weird little encounter, ran off to return to her?

  No. Of course not. If Whitney had been there, Violet would have seen her and mentioned it.

  But what if he has another girlfriend? Maybe he has a woman in every city. Maybe he’s a world-traveling trust fund baby who has time to kill and plenty of money to spend. I could do the same if I wanted. In fact, I’m doing exactly that right now, pretending to work at Fleur while I hide out. From what, I’m not sure.

  My boring life? My responsibilities? Myself?

  Or all of the above?

  I’m so lost in thought that I plow right into a solid someone while I’m walking down the street, offering a quick apology as I’m about to dart out of his way when I feel strong hands grip my shoulders and a sizzling awareness heats my veins.

  Only one person has been able to make my body react like that.

  Glancing up, I’m staring into his face. Caden’s. “Are you stalking me?” I ask incredulously.

  He offers me a lopsided smile and slowly shakes his head, his hair falling into his eyes. He looks young. Boyish. That doesn’t distract from his sex appeal, though. “I’d hoped to run into you, but not quite so literally.”

  “So you are stalking me.” I take a step back, sad yet relieved when his hands fall away from my shoulders. I can’t think when he touches me. I might do something stupid.

  “Sort of.” He shrugs in this completely unassuming way and I’m charmed. “Nigel mentioned you were staying at a hotel not too far from the Swan.”

  “And you thought you’d come back out here on a Saturday afternoon and hope to find me?”

  “Rather ambitious, right?” He steps out of the way of shoppers trying to pass by and I do the same, the both of us leaning against a brick building that houses a hair salon. He looks good in faded jeans and a black T-shirt, much how he looked last night, only this time there’s more stubble on his face, though his hair is somewhat tamed.

  I immediately imagine him rubbing those stubble-covered cheeks against my inner thighs and just like that, I’m wet.

  “I’ve always appreciated an ambitious man,” I tell him, folding my arms in front of me, trying to keep my distance.

  “Whatcha got there?” He lifts his chin, indicating the tiny shopping bag dangling from my fingers.

  “Oh, this?” I glance down at the bag advertising the name of the shop. “Nothing much.” Quite literally.

  “I’m sure,” he drawls, his expression knowing. “So tell me … bra or panties?”

  Did he see me enter the lingerie shop? How does he know about it? I’ve never heard of the store before and it’s not a chain. Maybe he’s bought Whitney stuff from there.

  Ew.

  “Like it’s any of your business.” Dropping my arms, I turn away from him, intent on returning to the hotel so I can hide out. It was a mistake, shopping. It was probably more of a mistake to fool around with Caden last night. I know nothing about him. He has a girlfriend. He’s probably a loser. A sexy-as-hell, gorgeous loser, but a loser nonetheless.

  “Hey, hey, why the attitude?” He grabs hold of the crook of my elbow, stopping my escape. I glare at him from over my shoulder and the confusion written all over his face doesn’t offer any satisfaction. It just makes me feel bad. “What did I do?”

  “You found me, that’s what you did.” I jerk out of his hold. “Go buy lingerie for your girlfriend.” I turn and he lets me leave. I’m fighting the disappointment that’s trying to take hold when I realize he’s walking right beside me. What’s wrong with me? Do I want to shake him or do I want to keep this going? He confuses me completely. I don’t like it.

  I stop and so does he. “Go away,” I murmur, keeping my head averted so I don’t have to look at him.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he says for what feels like the fiftieth time. “I already told you that.”

  Finally I look at him. “You’re staying with her,” I point out.

  “Doesn’t mean that we’re together.”

  “Are you sleeping with her?”

  “We sleep in her flat, yes.”

  I roll my eyes, irritated that we’re talking in circles. “Are you fucking her?”

  He cocks his head, contemplating me as a ghost of a smile plays at the corners of his too sexy lips. “I’ve fucked her before.”

  This time I can’t fight the disappointment. It settles over me heavily, making my shoulders slump. “Then this,” I wave my hand between us, “can’t happen again.” I start walking and damn it, so does he, keeping pace, which means he probably has to slow down because his legs are infinitely long and mine are not.

  “Who says it can’t happen again?” he asks.

  Do I need to break into a full run to get away from this guy? “I do.” I thrust my thumb at my chest. “I don’t care if you say you’re not with Whitney. If you’re casually banging her, then I’m not going to casually bang you.”

  He bursts out laughing, the asshole. Sexy, insufferable asshole. “What if I told you the last time I casually banged Whitney was months ago? Maybe closer to a year ago?”

  He’s tempting me just by saying that. And I shouldn’t be tempted. I should walk away from this man and remember my two interactions with him fondly. A girl is allowed to indulge. To make mistakes and do careless things, all in the name of stupid youth. That’s all Caden is to me. A careless mistake. A naughty indulgence.

  “I’d say you’re probably lying, thinking you can get in my panties,” I throw back at him. I’m just saying this out of spite, feeling defensive. I have no idea if he really is lying or not.

  “You don’t usually wear panties,” he drawls, and I want to punch him.

  Or kiss him. Take your pick.

  Caden moves closer, the heat of his body emanating toward me, drawing me in. I take a step forward, as if I have no control over my feet, and he grabs my shopping bag, snatching it right from my fingers. He opens it, pushing aside the tissue to examine the contents nestled within. “Looks like I can get in your panties right now, hmm?” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a handful of colorful lace.

  I pluck a few scraps of lace from his grip, my cheeks hot with embarrassment. “Put those back,” I hiss when he lifts the bag high above my head right as I reach for it.

  “Are you embarrassed, Rose? After everything we’ve shared?” He shakes his head, then glances down at the small pile of lace in his palm. “I thought you weren’t a big believer in panties. You weren’t last night.”

  I hate him. Making fun of me, throwing my underwear around on a public street. God, it’s so embarrassing. “Give them back.” I hold out my empty hand, clutching the rest of my new panties in my other hand behind my back.

  “Say please.” He smirks. I usually hate when guys smirk at me but for whatever awful reason, this guy looks particularly hot while smirking.

  “No.” I scowl.

  “Then you won’t get your new panties.”

  We stare at each other for a long, heat-filled moment. People are still passing us by. We’re on the sidewalk, for God’s sake, and fighting over my new underwear. This is the stupidest thing ever. I don’t need to deal with this crap.

 
“Fine,” I finally say. “Keep them as a memento.” I turn and walk away, one last time.

  And this time, he doesn’t follow me.

  Chapter Eight

  Caden

  I followed her, though she didn’t see me. Feisty little thing, calling me out on my shit. No one ever does that. I get away with everything. Hell, I’m a criminal. I steal jewelry for a living and I’ve yet to be caught. I’m either extremely lucky or extremely good.

  I’m going with the former mixed with a hint of the latter.

  It’s easy to believe the lies I tell myself. I staked her out because I want another chance at that necklace. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I found her, why I’m following her.

  But deep down inside, I know that’s not the truth. I’m here because I wanted to see her again. Talk to her. Touch her. Kiss her …

  It feels like a battle of wills every time I interact with Rose and I like that. She feels like a challenge. And there is nothing that I appreciate more than a challenge. No woman has ever truly interested me because they always feel so damn easy.

  But not Rose. She gives off mixed signals. I know she’s attracted to me. Last night I’d barely touched her, kissed her, and the minute I had my fingers between her thighs, she was drenched. That had been hot.

  Everything about her is hot, even when she’s mad. And I definitely make her mad. I almost enjoy it.

  Fine. I do enjoy it. Around her I feel like a twelve-year-old antagonizing the girl he has a wild crush on. I’ve turned into a stupid twelve-year-old giving the girl he likes endless grief. I lose all my cool when I’m around her.

  The moment she walked away—again—I let her go. But I never let her out of my sight. I kept my distance as I followed her, tracking her every movement, and she stopped at a lot of the shops, wandering in for a few minutes before she came back out empty-handed. She’d stashed the remaining new panties in her tiny purse, and every once in a while I’d see a flash of turquoise lace peek out of the top of the black leather. Or neon pink lace.