Stealing Rose
Page 9

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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fuck her.
But I don’t do any of that. Instead, I tell her solemnly, “Thank you,” and I kiss her again, deeper this time, my tongue sliding against hers for the briefest, most mind-numbing moment before I pull away, releasing my hold on her. I start to back away, regret taking hold and making me feel like an asshole.
I am an asshole. There’s no denying that fact.
“Thank you for what?” she asks when she opens her eyes. She brings her arms up, covering her breasts, looking incredibly vulnerable standing by the edge of the glowing turquoise pool, naked and wet and trembling. The lights from the city are bright as they surround us; I can hear the sounds of the sea, the clank of the boats that are docked nearby.
All the while, the necklace sparkles around her neck like a beacon, mocking me. Driving me to distraction. I stare at it. Stare at her. That’s what I want. Her. And the necklace. But I can’t have either.
I can’t have both.
“For giving me a night I’ll never forget,” I tell her before I turn.