Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(59)

“We were worried when you didn’t come back to the table,” is his only explanation, his gaze locked on me. “I told Violet I would go look for you.”

Did Violet want Hugh to discover Caden and me together like this? Doubtful, but what else could she think the two of us were doing? “I’m fine,” I tell him, sounding breathless. That’s because I am breathless. My heart is racing and my body is vibrating from Caden’s all-consuming kiss.

Caden says nothing, just glares at Hugh, his hands resting possessively on my hips, his body pressed intimately to mine. He’s sending a message and I can see Hugh gets it, loud and clear.

“Well, glad to hear it. I’ll let everyone know the two of you are otherwise engaged.” He offers a little wave and walks away.

“I hate that guy,” Caden mutters under his breath.

I tug on his hair, making him yelp. “You’re jealous of that guy.”

He looks at me, really looks at me, and it feels as if he can see every little thing inside of me. I return his stare, leaving myself open, practically bleeding for him. Whereas he’s always hiding from me, I want him to see me. See all that I have to give, that I want to give. “You’re right,” he admits. “I was jealous.”

“Was? As in you’re not anymore?” I relax my grip on his hair, moving my hand so I can brush those wayward strands away from his forehead. I could touch him like this for hours. I have touched him like this for hours.

“Not when I have you in my arms like this.” He kisses my temple, his hands squeezing my hips. “I want to get you alone.”

I nod and release a shaky breath. “Then let’s go.”

Chapter Seventeen

Caden

We walk back to the hotel after saying goodbye to everyone. The only reason we went back to the table was for Rose’s purse. Otherwise I would’ve snuck her out the back so we wouldn’t have to face them.

Nigel was preoccupied with some cute redhead and Hugh looked butt hurt. Violet appeared ready to do violence if I so much as looked at her wrong and Ryder shook my hand, seemingly oblivious to what was happening around him. It all felt very … odd.

Tense.

Truthfully, it was a damn relief to get outside, away from the pub, away from the people who are making me feel guilty. Damn it, I like all of them, with the exception of Hugh the f*cker Watson, and I bet he could be a friend now that he knows Rose is off-limits.

As in, she belongs to me.

I feel like my truth is hanging off the tip of my tongue, dangling, really. Ready to be revealed so I can get it over with and face my reality—face Rose. I’m both dying to tell her and scared out of my mind over how she might react, especially with the necklace sitting in my bag. I need to get it out of there and back into the safe, stat.

I’m more scared, though. Afraid she’ll reject me. Hate me. Worse? That she’ll tell the authorities and I’ll end up in jail for the rest of my life.

She wouldn’t do that to me … I don’t think.

We’re silent as we walk, though at least she lets me hold her hand. She looks beautiful, her head held high, that white dress hugging her breasts and waist and hips, the high black heels she has on making those sexy legs of hers look impossibly long.

I am a lucky man, walking down the street holding this woman’s hand. Random guys take a second look as they walk past and I send the ones that do a murderous glare. Can’t they see she belongs to me? Do I need to write a sign across her forehead that declares, Property of Caden Kingsley—Eyes and hands the f*ck off?

Yeah. I think I do.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she says as we enter the hotel lobby and head toward the elevators.

I shrug, feeling morose. Like the end is coming and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. “I’m moody.” And now I sound like a whiny girl.

“Too many beers?”

“Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure I’m completely sober.”

She flinches at my choice of words and I curse inwardly. I can’t f*ck this up now. My time with her is limited. She’s going to leave me soon.

I have to make the most of it.

“I’m being an *,” I tell her when we enter the elevator and the doors close us in.

“Yes, you are.” She smiles.

“I’m sorry.” I never apologize. There’s usually no need, because usually I’m long gone by the time anyone I’ve wronged finds out.

For once, I want to stick. I want to live a real life, not some constant con game. I want to be real with Rose. And if that means sometimes it gets ugly, and sometimes I’m scared, mad, sad, or whatever-the-hell emotion I’m struggling with, I still want to do it.

So I’ve got to fight for it. Own it. Own me. Own her.

Own us.

“You’re forgiven,” she says, her voice soft, her gaze open, showing me all she’s got. And I like what I see. “I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” I frown.

“For that whole thing with Hugh.” She waves a hand. “He’s nice. I like him. But not … not like that.”

“He likes you like that.” Just thinking about Hugh makes me want to hit something, specifically his smug face.

“I bet he doesn’t anymore.” Her smile grows. “You couldn’t have been more possessive, what with the way you practically growled at him when he caught us kissing by the bathrooms.”