Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters 2) - Page 34

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I hold him close, clinging to him, our sweaty bodies sticking to each other. I’m thrilled at what we just shared. And horrified.

Definitely horrified.

Chapter Ten


I’m still on an orgasmic high, just about to drift off into sleep, when I hear Rose say something. I decide to ignore her since I really didn’t hear her anyway, squeezing her shoulders with my arm, pulling her closer to my chest. We’re lying next to each other in postcoital bliss, the sheets kicked off and in a pile on the floor, the cool air bathing our heated skin. I feel good. I feel on top of the motherfuckin’ world and nothing is going to get me down. At least not for the next few hours.

“Hey.” Rose pokes my side, making me yelp. Damn, her finger’s sharp. Pricking my good vibe like a pin pops a balloon. “Shouldn’t you, um … be on your way?”

I crack open my eyes and stare at her in disbelief. “Are you kicking me out?”

She makes a face, one that says, I’m so sorry, but yeah. You gotta go.

Right. She’s definitely kicking me out.

“Well, this is awkward,” I say as I let go of her and slide out of bed. She scrambles into a sitting position, yanking the sheet up so it covers her breasts, and I almost want to laugh. I’ve seen every inch of her. Explored every inch of her, too, with my fingers and mouth and tongue. She has no reason to hide from me.

“It’s just … it’s getting late and I don’t know what’s going on and …” Her voice trails off and she shrugs those pretty, slim shoulders, her hair spilling everywhere, sliding against her skin, tempting me to touch her there.

But I resist because what the fuck, she’s kicking me out. No woman kicks me out. They’re always begging me to stay and I’m the one shoving them off, desperate to escape.

I didn’t even get a chance to search her suite for the necklace. I’m failing on all sides here. I need to play this off and see if I can get back in her good graces.

Were you ever in her good graces?

That’s probably a no.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” I tell her, pleased when I see her cheeks turn pink. “And that you can blush after everything that’s happened between us …”

“Yeah, that.” She points her finger at me, the sheet dropping to reveal her breasts. My gaze falls there, staring at them, the rosy nipples that match her name. Everything about her is pink and rose, creamy and sweet and so fucking tempting. “Your mouth makes me crazy.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” I thought she liked my mouth. She definitely didn’t protest when I had it between her legs. Or pressed to her lush lips. Or wrapped around her nipples.

“In a bad way.” She glances down at herself and pulls the sheet up again, ruining my view. “Besides, we’ve run out of condoms.”

Like that would stop me. “I bet if I called the concierge he’d get us more.” I stride toward the phone sitting on the bedside table, reaching for the receiver, but she slaps her hand over it first, stopping my progress.

“You will absolutely not call them,” she says, her voice low, the sheet forgotten again, much to my pleasure.

“Why not?”

“Then they’ll know what we’re doing.” Her cheeks turn even brighter pink and I chuckle, curling my hand upward into hers so our fingers interlock.

“We’re consenting adults, Ro. If we want to get naked and fuck for hours in a hotel room on a Saturday afternoon, then that’s our God-given right.”

“Ro? No one’s called me that before.” She disentangles her fingers from mine, scooting away from me until she’s sitting in the middle of the bed, the sheet still puddled around her lap, offering me that stellar view. I could stare at her chest all day. Now I get why artists are compelled to paint nudes of beautiful women. I’ve never painted in my life, but I’d love to capture Rose in this exact moment on canvas. “And please don’t bring God into this conversation,” she says weakly.

I sit on the edge of the mattress, not about to give up. I need to get closer to her and eventually get closer to that damn necklace she wore. Dexter wants it. He’s been hounding my ass for it. And I’ll get it.


I’d rather focus on her first. Earn her trust. So I’m not casing out her hotel room. I’m not looking for any stray jewelry lying around.

Hell, I’m in too deep now.

I’m here with Rose because I want to be, not because I want to steal something from her.

Yet. Don’t forget the “yet” part at the end of that last thought.

Yeah. Who wants to focus on trying to steal a necklace when I could be sliding back into bed with her? I want to feel the hot, tight clasp of her pussy milking my cock again. I want to feel her touch me, feel her lips on my skin, hear her moan when I hit a spot that feels particularly good. I want to learn all of those spots, memorize them for later. Because there will be a later for Rose and me. I plan on that. And she’d better plan on it too, no matter how much in denial she is.

“Rose.” She turns to look at me, her expression wary. Guarded. I know the feeling. More than anything, I know that look. I’ve been wearing the same guarded expression pretty much all my life. I trust no one. They’re all out to screw me over; it doesn’t matter who they are. I’ve become so good at playing the part, of being whoever I need to be at any given moment, I have no idea who the real me is anymore.

Tags: Monica Murphy The Fowler Sisters Romance