Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(21)

I should be focusing on my newfound opportunity to snag the Poppy Necklace. Not thinking about how I can possibly kiss her again. Seeing her, though, having her close enough to touch … I forget all about the necklace. All I can think about is her.

She hadn’t expected to see me and my being at the table threw her off, I could tell. She tried her best to ignore me. I think she was mad that I came with Whitney, who acted like a possessive girlfriend. Made me wonder if Whitney could sense the sparks flying between me and Rose and was doing her best to play interference.

That didn’t stop me. Whitney started talking with Violet, and that freed me to watch Rose unabashedly. The way she laughed and joked with Ryder and his friend. I liked the sound of her laughter. Full-bodied and unrestrained. She drank at least three beers, maybe four, and she consumed the bloodiest steak I’ve seen in a long-ass time, like she was one of the guys.

It was sexy as f*ck.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. And eventually, she couldn’t take her eyes off me. I wanted her. Just like before, that night in Cannes with her naked and in the pool, her beautiful body on display just for me. I had my hands on her, my mouth on hers, and then I walked away.

Now, at this moment, in a small bathroom in a pub in the middle of Covent Garden on a Friday night, I’m not walking away. Hell no.

I cradle her head between my hands, my fingers buried in her silky, soft hair, my thumbs caressing her cheeks. Her eyelids are heavy, her lips damp and parted, and I want to kiss her as much as I want to take my next breath.

“Tell me you feel this,” I demand, needing the confirmation before I go any further.

“Feel what?” She’s playing dumb. Her breath quickens as I continue to touch her, and the shiver that steals over her skin is a sure sign she’s just as affected as I am.

“This … connection between us.” I touch the corner of her mouth. “I feel it.” I earn an eye roll for my words but I’m not deterred. She’s putting on an act.

“What about your girlfriend?” She meets my gaze steadily, those honey-gold eyes doing things to me. Like making my dick hard.

My girlfriend? Oh … Whitney. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

One perfectly arched brow lifts. “Does she know that?”

I smile. I like this girl. She has a smart mouth and it’s sorta hot. “Probably not.”

She releases her death grip on the counter and settles her hands on my chest, giving me a shove. But I don’t budge and she doesn’t like it. “That presents a problem.”

“What does?” Christ, I wish she’d stop talking so I can kiss her. I want to know if she tastes as good as I remember.

“Your not-a-girlfriend girlfriend.” She pushes at my chest again but I brace myself, which just frustrates her further. “You’re taken.”

“No, I’m not,” I say truthfully. “It’s not my fault she thinks we’re a couple.”

“You’re staying with her, right? Here in London?”

I don’t answer her. If I tell her the truth she’ll reject me. Instead, I press my mouth to hers, silencing whatever argument she might have offered. She makes a strangled noise deep in her throat but I’m persistent, deepening the kiss, sliding my tongue between her lips and touching hers.

She tastes as good as I remember, maybe even better. And she feels amazing in my arms, all warm and soft curves, her breasts pressed snug against my chest. She’s not wearing a bra and I can feel her hard nipples. I want to touch them. Lick them. Suck them.

I drift my hand down along her neck, across her collarbone, my fingers teasing along the neckline of her dress. She shivers beneath my touch, a little whimper falling from her lips when I tangle my tongue with hers at the same time I dip my hand beneath the bodice.

And encounter nothing but warm, plump skin.

“You shouldn’t do this,” she murmurs when I break the kiss to trail my lips along the length of her neck, my fingers going to the tiny buttons that run down the front of her bodice. I undo them one by one, exposing her, my gaze dropping as I spread the fabric wide and take in her perfect breasts topped with rosy nipples.

“Do what?” I ask as I rain kisses along the tops of her breasts. She puts her hands on either side of my head, her fingers going into my hair, much like I held her only a moment ago, but she’s not pushing me away.

She’s guiding me toward her nipple and I circle it with my tongue, draw it into my mouth and suck. Hard.

“Touch me like this. Kiss me like this,” Rose says breathlessly as she tosses her head back, her eyes sliding closed as she moans. I smile against her skin as I move to her other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

“You want it,” I tell her. Her skin is sweet and warm and she smells f*cking amazing. I’m feeling her up in the middle of a bathroom and I don’t really give a damn. I have to have her.

“I don’t even know you,” she whispers when I lift away from her breasts, her eyes hazy with lust as she watches me. “We need to get back out there.”

I kiss her, my tongue teasing hers before I break away. “Not yet.”

“They’ll get suspicious.”

“Who?” I keep my gaze on hers as I slip my hand from her breast and touch her thigh, slipping beneath the skirt of her dress.

“Your girlfriend.”