Yeah. So I did.
“I’m hiding out, here in London. Things aren’t good for me at my work right now. I, uh, sort of gave notice and I’m avoiding all responsibility like a complete loser,” she admits. “So it feels good to just … have fun. With you. You’re helping me forget all my troubles.”
Ah. I’m a vacation fuck, then. Well, fine. That’s about all I can be anyway, so I’ll settle for it.
“That sounds awful, doesn’t it? I don’t mean to be so crass, but I never take time just for myself, you know? It’s always been about work and family and Fleur and the Fowler name. My older sister told everyone to fuck off a long time ago and no one gives her grief. That used to make me angry, but now I’m … I’m envious of her. That she has so much freedom and can do whatever she wants. While I’m working and trying my best to get in my father’s good graces and failing miserably.”
Okay. I thought this conversation was going to be dirty and crude and I could practice my dry humping skills with her, but we’ve taken a serious turn here. And I can’t help but feel for her, want to help her.
Shit.
“I don’t know what to say,” I start and she shakes her head, moving like she’s going to climb off of me.
“Forget it,” she mutters. “I’m being stupid.”
“No. You’re not being stupid.” I stop her from leaving, one arm clamped tight around her waist, my other hand on the back of her neck, keeping her in place. “I want to help you, but I don’t know how.”
She smiles tremulously. I swear to God, if she starts crying I might need to go kick someone’s ass, because the very last thing I want to see is Rose’s tears. I don’t think I could handle it. “You could just listen. That’s enough.”
“Then I’ll listen.” I pull her down so our foreheads meet and I stare into her eyes. “Whatever you want to tell me, I’m here for you.” I mean every word I say, too.
She tilts her head, our lips brushing, the kiss sweet at first, then turning deeper, until my hands are buried in her hair and our tongues are tangled and the cabdriver has to yell at us to let us know we’re at her hotel.
Fucking embarrassing. I’ve never become so wrapped up in a woman so quickly.
And I don’t want to stop.
Chapter Thirteen
Rose
“Are you avoiding me on purpose or what?”
I clutch my cell close to my ear as I slip out of bed quietly, not wanting to disturb Caden, who’s sleeping peacefully in my bed. We stayed up late into the night, doing what we do best.
Sex. And lots of it.
Sneaking into the bathroom, I close the door with a soft click and crawl into the giant sunken tub, curling up inside and leaning my head against the cool, smooth edge. “What are you talking about?” I ask Violet.
“I’ve been trying to call you for days, Rose. The last time we talked was Tuesday, and that was almost a week ago. I thought you were dead! The only thing that gave me reassurance was the fact that you returned Ryder’s texts yesterday.” Violet sounds completely put out.
Not that I can blame her. I have been avoiding her. And Ryder tricked me with those texts, asking innocent work-type questions he really had no business asking. I replied automatically, then wondered at my mistake because I knew my sister would be calling eventually. I avoid her like the plague, but not Ryder? I blew it there.
And here she is. Calling me just as predicted. Though I don’t want to tell her anything. Caden is my secret, and I’m keeping him and what we’ve been doing all to myself.
“Your future husband is a dirty trickster,” I tell her, skimming my fingernails down my thigh, tracing the little bruises that Caden put there a few days ago. They’re small and a purplish red and they don’t really hurt, but he did that with his fingers, gripping me so tight when he fucked me against the wall that he marked my skin.
He got upset when he saw the bruises, but I love them. He marked me. It felt so primitive and possessive, seeing those fingerprints on my skin. I’ve never been a man’s possession before.
But I feel like his. And he feels like mine.
“I’m the one who texted you from Ryder’s phone,” Violet admits.
“So you’re the dirty trickster, then.” I should’ve known.
Violet sighs, sounding sad and irritated and frustrated. I’m sure she’s feeling all three, and the expected guilt comes at me full force. “Father won’t leave me alone, calling me all the time asking about you. He’s worried.”
“What about? If he has questions, why doesn’t he call me himself?”
“Because he knows you’re avoiding everyone, so he thought he could get to you through me,” she explains wearily.
“Well, he shouldn’t bother you.” I feel bad. Violet is having to deflect him for me and I didn’t mean to put her in that position. “Next time you hear from him, just tell him to call me. When I see it’s him, I’ll answer.”
“You promise?” Violet sounds skeptical.
“Swear.” Daddy’s going to burst my bubble and bring me back to reality, but I guess I have to return sometime. This thing with Caden can’t last forever. It’s been fun, though. He’s fun. Though a little closed off.
Okay, fine, a lot closed off. But he’s so good with his hands and mouth and tongue that I let that all go.
Mostly.