Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(36)

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s such an—arrogant name. Caden Kingsley. Please don’t tell me your friends called you King or something silly like that when you were in school.”

Hell, no, they didn’t call me that. They teased me unmercifully when my father lost all his money in bad investments and when he became involved in a pyramid scheme. In his shame and embarrassment he did the unthinkable.

Killed himself.

And I’ve dealt with his choice ever since. Worn it like it was my cross to bear. I hate him for what he did. Hate him for how he destroyed my life, Mom’s life, lost all our money until I turned to the one thing that was the easiest fix.

Stealing.

I guess I’m more like my old man than I thought.

“I was born with the name.” I shrug, uncomfortable thinking about my past shames. “Not like I chose it.”

She’s studying me a little too closely and I want to squirm like a little kid. But I don’t. I remain as still as I can, returning her stare, wanting her to think she doesn’t scare me.

But f*ck, she does. She scares the crap out of me. Maybe I should leave. Bail out of here like she wants me to and forget all about this woman.

You won’t be able to. It has nothing to do with the necklace or anything that you can gain from her. You just want her. Pure and simple. What’s the harm in that?

It’s who she is. What she represents. She’s exactly the type of woman I need to avoid. Not cling to.

“I should go.” I start to rise but she clasps my wrist, her fingers keeping me in place.

“Wait.”

I stare at her hand clasped tight around my wrist, then lift my head to meet her imploring gaze.

“Don’t go,” she whispers.

Go. Go. Fucking go. “What are you saying? You changed your mind?”

Her gaze never leaves my face and I know she’s searching for something, some hidden secret I supposedly have. And I do have them. A ton of them. I’m not about to reveal them to her, though. She’ll only use them against me. No one knows my secrets. I keep them close to my chest.

It’s better that way. Easier.

“Do you want to go to dinner?” She’s changing the subject and I’m okay with that. The conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn, one I didn’t want to deal with.

“With you?” I ask.

She laughs and shakes her head, her grip on my wrist easing, but she doesn’t let go. And I like that. “I deserve that, don’t I? Yes, with me.”

Her honesty is refreshing. The women I’ve been with always play games. Natural, I guess, considering I’m a game player too. We say one thing and mean another. Being with a woman was always about chasing the pleasure, seeking the orgasm. Whitney is the only female friend I have and I still end up seeking the orgasm with her, so much so that I have her conditioned to want it anytime she’s with me.

Meaning I’ll eventually ruin that friendship too.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” The relief in my voice is evident and for once I don’t care. I don’t want to hide it. For once in my life I’m tempted to be open with a woman.

Real.

More like real scary. What the hell am I thinking?

“I need to take a shower first.” She waves a hand at me. “So maybe you can turn around so I can go to the bathroom?”

“Are you serious?” I grab her, causing her to shriek. Clamping my hand over her mouth loosely, I roll over so she’s beneath me, her breasts pressed against my chest, her sheet-covered legs squirming beneath mine. “Baby, I’ve seen you completely naked. You rode my face. You came all over my face. And now you’re acting shy?”

She struggles against me, reaching out to shove me, and I grab at her wrists, lifting her arms above her head and pinning them there. “Let go of me.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” I dip my head, brush my nose against her cheek, along her neck. Her struggle eases, her body going limp beneath mine when I run my mouth along her skin, scenting her, tasting her. My body is spent but my cock is hard and I’m afraid I could become easily addicted to this woman.

“I’m not used to a man sticking around after sex,” she admits softly.

I lift my head so I can look at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, they all bail right after, even the ones I’m in a committed relationship with.” Her cheeks go red yet again and I kiss her there, my lips pressing into the heated skin of her left cheek, then her right.

“You’ve been in lots of committed relationships?” I ask, almost afraid of her answer. Because if she has I should probably go. Now.

“No.” The word comes out strangled, though that could be because I slipped my hand down to cup her breast. “I’ve had one serious boyfriend. And he was the worst of them all. I found out later I wasn’t the only woman he was seeing, though I thought I was.”

Asshole. I may not commit, but at least I don’t string women along and pretend I want a relationship with them.

“I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this stuff. Like you care.” She turns her head to the side, staring at nothing, her body tense.

I kiss her jaw, her lips, my hand still on her breast, gently stroking. Her nipple pebbles against my palm, her body growing warm and pliant beneath me, and I place my mouth at her ear. “Let’s take a shower together.”