Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(9)
“I don’t want to slow down. I always slow down and that’s so incredibly boring.” She drops her arms and looks up at me, her eyes sparkling, an almost manic expression on her face. “I think I want to swim.”
Without another word she walks over to the pool and stares at the water, her bare toes curling around the edge of the pavers that surround the pool. A warm breeze washes over us and she tilts her head back, her eyes sliding closed as she throws her arms out to her sides and holds them palms up.
“Have you ever done something reckless?” she asks, her voice soft.
All the f*cking time. “Have you?”
She opens her eyes and looks over at me. “I asked first,” she says before she resumes her position.
“Yeah. Haven’t we all?”
“No. Not me, not really. I may act all tough, like I take no crap, but that’s all it is. An act. I prefer things to be safe. I don’t like to take risks. And I am definitely not reckless.” She drops her arms to her sides for the briefest moment before she’s reaching under her arm and unzipping the dress. The top gaps, revealing nothing but bare skin and that she’s not wearing a bra.
Christ.
As the dress falls away from her body and lands in a heap at her feet, I realize she’s not wearing any panties, either. She’s standing in front of me completely naked—the Poppy Necklace like a glittering, expensive collar around her neck—and my mouth goes dry as I drink her in. My entire body stirs, including my cock, and I lick my lips, fighting the hunger that threatens to take over.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman. Longer still since I felt so attracted to one. And I am definitely, without a f*cking doubt, attracted to Rose Fowler.
A tiny, sly smile curls her lush lips as I stare at her, as if she can read my thoughts and approves of their direction. And then without a word, she dives into the pool, hardly making a splash.
I watch in fascination when moments later she pops her head up, treading water. “You should join me.”
The absolute last thing I can do. “I don’t think so.”
“Aw, why not?” She mock pouts. “Scared of the water?”
“No.”
“Scared of me?” She laughs.
“Not at all.”
“Then join me.” She smiles and swims closer to the edge, standing in the water where it reaches her waist. Her skin is covered with little droplets of water; her pale pink nipples are hard, and my cock is, too.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I grit my teeth together and slip my other hand in the pocket of my suit jacket, fingering the cool stones stashed away inside. “I can’t.”
Her expression turns solemn and she lifts her arms, smoothing back her hair. The movement lifts her breasts, showing off the dip in her waist, the sleekness of her belly. Jesus, her body will be the f*cking death of me. “Are you gay or what?”
I laugh and shake my head. “No.”
She drops her arms so they splash in the water, frustration written all over her features. “Then why won’t you join me?”
A burst of sound comes from the building behind us and I turn to see a group of partygoers spill out onto the terrace, led by the woman whose bracelet is currently resting in my pocket. Shit. “Come here,” I urge her, reaching out for her hands with both of mine.
Rose frowns. “You can’t lift me out of the pool.”
“Watch me.” I wave my fingers at her, then scan the area, my gaze returning to the terrace. The group of people is still there, milling about, though they haven’t come down the stairs yet. But it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be looking for me, and I swear I can hear the woman commanding everyone about in her very loud, very shrill French. “Come on.” I return my attention to Rose, who’s still contemplating me as if I’ve lost my mind, which I probably have. “Hurry.”
She takes my hands and I pull her out of the pool since she doesn’t weigh a damn thing, setting her on her feet directly in front of me. She’s dripping wet and I let my gaze roam all over her perfect body, memorizing her every feature so I can commit her to memory and pull this moment out for later. “What are you doing?”
Before I can overthink it I grab her, my arm clamping tight around her slender waist, my hand sprawled across one perfect ass cheek. Her skin is damp and soft and chilled from the water and I give her plump flesh a firm squeeze, savoring the gasp that escapes her when I touch her like that.
“Kiss me for luck,” I whisper as my head descends toward hers. She’s frowning, her gaze landing on my lips, watching as I make my descent until her lids flutter closed and I press my mouth to hers in a lingering, chaste kiss.
She steps closer and rests her hands on my chest and I break the kiss first. Opening my eyes to drink in this naked, wet nymph pressed against me, her skin pale and gleaming in the moonlight. I touch the necklace, tracing the stones, wishing like crazy I could snatch it from her neck. The necklace is perfection. It’s a rare piece, expensive and exquisitely made, and it’s killing me to have it so close and knowing I can’t have it.
Yet.
Her chest lifts on a deep inhale, making my gaze drop to her breasts, and my finger falls as if I have no control, circling around her left pink nipple once. Only once. It’s the single indulgence I’ll allow myself and it’s f*cking torture, touching her like this, feeling the little nub of flesh tighten, hearing her sharp inhale, scenting her arousal. I’d much rather take it further and draw that perfect little nipple into my mouth and suck. Hard. Run my hands and lips and tongue all over her body until she’s begging me to f*ck her.