Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(62)

Then again, I’ve never felt like this for any woman until Rose.

Finally unable to stand it any longer, I begin to move, slowly working my cock in and out of her body. She moans with my every thrust and I bend over her, kissing and sucking her nipples, gathering her ass in my hands so I can hold her closer and control my movements within her.

Her legs are tight around my hips, her arms wrapped around my neck. Our bodies are so close, chest to chest, heart to heart, and I’m panting in her ear, whispering how good she feels, how much I want to come, how much I want her to come.

She nods furiously, her hair tickling my cheeks, strands catching in the stubble that lines my jaw. “So close,” she whispers as she turns her face into my neck. I can feel her lips brand me, hot and damp, as she speaks. “Harder, Caden. Please.”

Losing all control at her urging, I f*ck her fiercely, my movements ragged as I grip her ass tight and pound inside of her. My mind is empty and all I can focus on is my need to come, my need to make Rose come. Like an animal intent on reaching my satisfaction no matter what it takes. Primitive. Possessive.

Lost.

Rose falls first, a long, shuddery moan sounding from deep within her as I feel her * clench and ripple along the length of my cock. I grit my teeth, fighting against the need to spurt deep inside her body, and then I’m pulling out of her in a rush, my hand going around the base of my cock as I come all over her quivering stomach.

“Jesus,” I utter, my breathing so hard my chest aches as I stare down at her. I’m on my knees, my cock in my hand, my semen all over her stomach and her *. Did I come in her? Fuck, I hope not. And I hope she means it when she says there’s no possibility she could get … pregnant.

Wiping a hand across my mouth, I shake my head, unable to speak.

What the f*ck did I just do?

Chapter Eighteen

Rose

I can’t move. I can hardly breathe. My God, I don’t think I can even see.

I believe Caden just f*cked me to death.

My bones are like jelly, my heart racing triple time, and I trail my shaky fingers through the semen that’s splattered across my belly, smearing it across my skin. It’s warm and sticky and thank God he pulled out in time or else I’d be worried.

It was so amazing, though, having Caden inside of me without a condom on. Risky and stupid, but he felt so good. Too good.

I want to do it again.

I can feel him above me, hear him breathe, hear him swallow hard. He sounds just as overwhelmed as I feel and when I finally crack my eyes open I see him reach out, his fingers light on my stomach as he, too, touches the come he left there. Marking me like some sort of primitive beast, it had been all sorts of hot.

“I, uh, got a little carried away there for a moment,” he admits, his gaze lifting to meet mine. I see a hint of doubt in the depths of his gaze and I want to reassure him. I want to tell him I liked it. Loved it, even.

He can’t take the entire blame for this. I was just as out of control. Out of my freaking mind with pleasure. “It’s okay,” I reassure him, reaching for his hand so I can clasp our fingers together.

He smiles at me, flicking his head so his sweat-dampened hair isn’t hanging in his eyes. “You’re f*cking beautiful,” he whispers.

I shake my head, embarrassed for some reason. What just happened between us … I can’t explain it. I feel closer to him. I feel as if he’s become a part of me.

Does he feel the same?

“Don’t deny it.” He collapses beside me, gathering me in his arms so he can hold me close, my back to his front. His cock is still hard, poking against my butt, and I’m amazed.

And aroused. Still. But I don’t know if my body can take another round. Yet.

“You’re gorgeous, you know. All limp and sated after I made you come.” His voice is full of pride. He likes that he just did this to me. That he wrecked me for any other man. No one has ever made me feel like Caden does.

Never.

“I made you come too,” I point out, smiling when he squeezes me close and drops a kiss to my shoulder.

“Yeah, you did,” he murmurs against my temple. “It felt f*cking amazing, being inside you bare.”

It so did. I need to get on the pill stat if we’re going to continue this … relationship. Whatever the heck we’re doing. I’ve never had sex without a condom before and when he first slipped inside me, hot and slick and with no thin piece of rubber between us, I almost came on the spot.

His hands move up so he’s touching my breasts, rubbing them, circling my nipples, and I sigh as my body melts into his, savoring his touch, the little sparks of heat that light my skin as he continues to toy with my nipples. “I love the way you touch me,” I tell him in a heated whisper.

He doesn’t falter, just keeps caressing my skin, driving me crazy, ramping up the warmth within me when I came only moments ago. “I love touching you,” he murmurs. “I could f*ck you all night. For days. You’re all I want, Ro. All I need.”

I want to believe him, but I don’t know if I can. He’s opened up some but not enough. Our sexual connection is so incredibly strong, but what about our emotional connection? Would he want a real relationship with me? Or are we both caught up in the fantasy of being in another country, not dealing with work or friends or family—for the most part, considering I’m dealing with the life-changing choice of quitting the family business—all alone, just the two of us in this hotel suite?