Third Time's a Charm (Holland Springs #3)(67)

Lifting her chin, she said, “We don’t have one.”

“But we could.”

“You two kids have fun.” Harrison practically threw her at Jason.

Not in this lifetime, she wanted to shout. Reluctantly, she let Jason take her by the arm, moving her to the dance floor. Her skin crawled where he touched her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gabriel head in their direction, concern plainly written on his face.

Standing on her toes, she mouthed “I’m fine” where Jason couldn’t see her.

Gabriel crossed his arms and waited at the edge of the dance floor.

“Smile.” Jason’s hand moved to the curve of her hip and she wanted to vomit.

“No.”

“I’ll rip off your mask if you don’t,” he said pleasantly.

“And risk your sterling reputation? We both know that’s not going to happen.” She focused on a point over his shoulder, staring at the image of a redheaded woman in amethyst slowly decaying until it blurred.

“Maybe I like taking risks.”

She jerked her gaze back to his, his sky blue eyes bright. Deceiving. Those—along with his smile—made people trust him, made them think he was sincere. Heck, it had made her believe Jason had been different from the rest. “Not interested.”

“Do you remember our last night together?”

When he collected money on a bet, after breaking up with her in a crowded restaurant? She scowled at him behind her mask.

He chuckled, “Not then. The night before, when I took you to The Pointe.”

She remained silent. Dancing with him was one thing, but engaging in painful conversation was quite another.

He bent his dark head, his breath hot against her ear. “I bent you over the hood of my car, and—”

Rose focused on the portrait again, humming in her mind to drown out his words. It was supposed to have been a romantic evening with music, dancing under the moonlight and a picnic dinner by the sound. Instead all he’d brought was a box of wine, subs from one of those chain restaurants, and played a random mix of rap, metal and bluegrass.

Afterwards it had been a repeat of every date: she and Jason having sex. Not making love. Not connecting. And she’d been too lonely, too inexperienced with men—with any man at all—to have realized it until it was too late.

“Remember?” he repeated, grinding his pelvis against her.

She clenched her teeth and silently thanked God for her heavy skirts. “No.”

He continued on as if he hadn’t heard, which in his case was entirely possible. She’d never been around a man more in love with the sound of his voice. “Now you’ve had the opportunity to gain some experience—” He nuzzled the side of her neck and she jerked her head back. “—give me, I mean, us another chance.”

Another chance to embarrass her? Another chance to tell her that if she would just let herself go during sex it would be better for them both? Not that he hadn’t made it pleasurable. He’d just acted like it was her fault she didn’t orgasm as soon as he wanted her to, and her amazingly na?ve self had tried harder to please him.

Rose hated this self-berating. The constant self-doubt and mental abuse she heaped on the woman inside of her. But she was entirely grateful that something had kept her from telling him just how inexperienced she was. Heck, he would have probably taken out a front page ad in The Gazette. However, he’d barely noticed, only taking her discomfort to mean that he was extremely well-endowed. Self-centered asshole.

Her cheeks heated, and the large chandelier began to sway in the middle of the room as he turned her in time to the music.

“No,” she said, her voice only a whisper.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Rose stared at Jason. The only way he could make it up to her would be to start practicing law in Antarctica. She cleared her throat. “No.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed through the slits in his gray mask. He wore all shades of gray, some venturing into white, like he was the good guy. “Spreading your legs for Romanov makes you too good for me?”

“Yes.” No matter how much Sasha had hurt her, she wouldn’t let Jason get the last word or make her feel bad.

“Yes. No.” He squeezed her shoulder and she winced. “Are those the only two words you know?”

He’d always hated how quiet she was. According to him, it didn’t let him get to know the real her. More like it didn’t help him find her weaknesses as fast. She clamped her lips together, knowing she was irritating him even more by not speaking.

“Oh, I forgot, big words weren’t a requirement to get your G.E.D.”

Fury bubbled at his mocking words, and something wicked sprang to life inside of her. “You have the smallest penis I’ve ever seen,” she heard herself say.

The words seemed to echo around the room just as the band played the last chord. A few people gasped while others laughed. She let a small smile dance on her lips, not caring if any of the locals guessed her identity.

“Is that Rose Holland?”

“Well, if anyone should know about penis size, it’s a Holland.”

“Take it back,” he ordered.

“No.”

The purple-haired butterfly tapped Jason on the shoulder. “I won’t be available tomorrow night. Sorry.”