Third Time's a Charm (Holland Springs #3)(10)

He snapped his head up, but he hadn’t been aware she’d stopped. She reached out to grab him. He managed to place the carrier on the floor as he stumbled, the weight of his body pushing her back against the wall. Night blooming jasmine filled his senses and he leaned closer, seeking the softness of her skin. The tips of her fingers pressed into his arm and he welcomed the dull bite of her nails.

Her eyes drew him in, calling to him as he pressed his body against hers. Full breasts flattened against his chest and the cradle of her rounded hips welcomed his.

Desire flared. He grew hard and instinctively rocked against her. She undulated against him. The smallest of movements but it felt as if she had caressed his entire body. His erection surged. He cupped the back of her neck, her loose curls like the finest of silks against his palm.

“Rose,” he whispered, inching closer to her mouth.

She sighed, her plump lips parting as she lifted her mouth in offering. Her luminous eyes closed, the thick lashes fanning her perfect cheeks. He was almost there. Almost could taste the sweetness of her lips.

He traced the curve of her jaw with his thumb.

Ivy cried out.

Jerking back, he said, “I think she wants—needs—you.”

As though in a daze, Rose slowly blinked up at him, her eyes heavy-lidded. The baby let out an ear piercing wail and Rose started. “I-I have to feed her,” she stammered as a dull flush crept up her face. She slid past him, the sound of her retreating footsteps echoing in the hallway.

Breathing heavily, he rubbed the back of his neck. What the hell had he been thinking? Oh, that was too easy. He hadn’t. Instead he’d gone full-out caveman on her. Again. Although in her store, he’d done it to shake her up a little. Okay, to be really honest he’d done it because of pure male ego. He’d had to know if she was still attracted to him.

He leaned his head to one side and then the other, trying to relieve the pent-up tension. His raging hard-on let him know that it wasn’t working. He’d been celibate by choice for months now.

Brilliant forethought.

A door shut. Rose’s? He wondered if it was locked. Of course it would be locked, especially to him. He’d already hurt her once before, and it didn’t matter he’d apologized, because he had lied to her about coming back and he was lying to her still. She was right not to trust him.

That would have to change.

Sasha scrubbed his face with his hand. Dinner, or supper as she called it, would be him at his best. At his non-groping or -ogling best. He would eat, make small talk, help with the washing up, get his luggage from her Jeep and go straight to his room. Alone.

He wasn’t here to seduce her. Hell, he wasn’t here to get laid by anyone. He had a job to do. One that turned his stomach when he’d been given all the details. One that had kept him up at night when he’d made his own suggestions to help further things along. Never before had he loathed his talent for manipulation—at least not at this magnitude.

From now on, it would be pure business for everyone involved. It would require a little finesse and a whole lot of double-talking, but there were some things a man needed to do. Some things a man needed to stand up for.

God, he needed a lie down.

He turned the glass doorknob and went into his room.

***

Rose took a deep breath and then another, trying to steady her nerves as she fixed a bottle for Ivy. Sasha living here wasn’t going to work. It couldn’t. He was too damn male, too damn attractive, and she was too much of a damn fool when it came to him.

She’d almost let him kiss her.

Agreeing to let him live here had so not been because of jealousy (or so she tried to convince herself.). It was because she needed the money and because she couldn’t let Jemma Leigh get hurt for the hundredth time. Plus, Rose knew without a doubt that Jemma Leigh and Jeremy belonged together.

As a Holland, it was Rose’s duty to give love advice. To nudge it along. Even if she’d rather bash them over the head and yell, “Wake up, you idiots!”.

Ivy wailed.

Rose shook the bottle, mixing the warm water and powder together. “It’s coming, honey.” Scooping her up from the crib, Rose pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead and teased the silicon nipple into Ivy’s mouth. Love and a deep commitment to giving this child the stability she never had swelled inside of her.

“Sweet baby,” she crooned, sitting down in the chair that had rocked the first Poppy Holland born in the New World. Rose hummed, the familiarity of their routine giving her a sense of peace.

Ivy grunted and sucked harder, making Rose laugh. “Greedy little thing.”

Blackbeard meowed and Rose focused on him. The cat’s gaze seemed to be disapproving. “Don’t look at me like that. We need the money.” He let out a growl. “Leave if you don’t like it, but who else is going to put up with you?”

The feline rose and stretched, sauntering from the room in a way that only a spoiled cat secure in his position could.

As Ivy ate, Rose kept one eye on the clock. She still had supper to fix. Sasha’d given her a funny look when she’d said that. Maybe she should have said four course dinner. That was language he understood—the snob.

She let out a little giggle. Wonder what he’d think of cheese grits and sliced ham with biscuits? He’d probably look at her with those sexy green eyes and say something scathing. Or outrageous.