Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(37)
“I don’t know …” Her voice trails off when I kiss and nibble her earlobe.
“I’ll wash your hair.”
She smiles and lifts her shoulder, trying to shrug me away like she can get rid of me, but I don’t budge. “That sounds nice,” she admits.
“I’ll wash your entire body.” I lick her ear, making her shiver.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“But no more shyness, all right? I like what I see. I don’t want you to be bashful.”
Her gaze meets mine, then drops to linger on my mouth before returning to my eyes. “Bashful? You make me sound like one of the Seven Dwarfs.”
“You’re the one who wanted me to close my eyes so you could run to the bathroom. That sounds like bashful to me.” I’m still cupping her breast, and my cock is hard as steel where it rests against her belly. “We’d better go take that shower before I give up and f*ck you again.”
Her eyes widen the slightest bit. “We don’t have any more condoms.”
“I’d pull out.” Just the thought of coming all over her stomach and chest has my balls aching.
“I don’t have sex without a condom.”
“Neither do I.”
“The pull-out method is one of the least reliable.”
“I’ve heard that.” What the f*ck is wrong with me, suggesting such a thing and not being the least bit concerned about it, either? I’m a f*cking nut job of the highest proportions right about now.
I blame the woman squirming beneath me.
“Yet you suggested it.” She’s calling me out yet again.
“You think too much.” I kiss her nose and climb off of her, standing by the side of the bed with my hand held out. “Come on. Let’s go take that shower.”
She studies my hand warily, looking as unsure as I feel. There’s a heaviness in the room. A sense that the two of us are about to embark on a crazy adventure neither of us will ever fully recover from.
Will she take my hand? Or tell me to get the hell out? She should do the latter. It’s the safest bet. The easiest out. And I’m always about the easiest out.
But she takes it. Curling her fingers in mine, she allows me to help her out of bed so she’s standing in front of me, naked and beautiful. Without a word I lead her into the bathroom and let go of her hand, admiring her ass as she walks over to the shower and starts the water, flicking her fingers in the spray as she waits for it to warm.
“Ready?” she asks when steam starts to billow out of the shower stall.
As I’ll ever be.
We end up at a hotel in Trafalgar Square, taking a taxi to get there, one of those little black cabs you see on TV when you’re a kid. I’ve been to England once before, but I was too young to care and not really paying attention to my surroundings.
London is exactly what you’d expect it to be. Bustling and full of people, quick paced and crowded, its streets packed with those red double-decker buses. History is everywhere, staring down at you in the form of one statue or another. They give everyone a statue in this damn city. I bet if I paid enough money I could have my own motherf*cking statue erected in some small park.
I tried to feel Rose up in the back of the cab since the driver wasn’t paying us any mind but she wouldn’t have it, slapping my hands away every time I tried to grab her. You’d think I wouldn’t feel the need to grab her, since she gave me a soapy hand job in the shower that had me coming so hard I had to brace myself against the shower wall for fear I’d slip down the drain.
Not that I hadn’t returned the favor, fingering her into another orgasm while my mouth remained tight around her nipple. She’s so damn responsive, I had her coming in minutes.
“Why are you taking me to another hotel?” I ask her as we enter the building. There’s a noisy bar to the right, filled with people around our age dressed to trendy perfection, standing around drinking and talking, loud music blaring over the speakers. I start to head toward the bar but she stops me, dragging me toward a short bank of elevators to the left, just beyond the registration desk.
“We’re going to the restaurant up on the roof. It’s supposed to be one of those hidden-gem secrets of the city. Violet told me about it. She came here with Ryder a few weeks ago and said the view and the food were excellent.” Rose hits the up button and we wait for the elevator to make its way to the ground floor.
“Better than The Shard?” The newest skyscraper, close to the London Bridge, is one of the more popular spots for tourists to check out a view of the city. Not that I’d been there, but I’d heard all about it from Whitney.
“Not as crowded, at least. I don’t know about better.” The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing a crazy interior.
I start to laugh as we walk inside, earning a weird look from Rose. “What’s so funny?”
“This elevator looks like a damn nightclub.” It’s dark inside save for the glowing purple and green lights that shine on the black floor, the little glints of silver embedded in the solid surface shining bright. The walls are mirrored and covered with a faint black brocade print, and there’s even mood music.
“It does,” Rose agrees with a little smile. She starts to move as if she’s dancing, and I watch in fascination as she sways her hips in time to the music.