by Eva Chase
Jin, who obviously wasn’t going anywhere, came up behind me. As I turned toward him, he rested one hand on my waist and used the other to tug the curtain closed. He nudged me against the wall, ducking his head close to mine. Under the tangy smell of paint that always seemed to cling to him, I caught a prickle of something warm and savory, like wood smoke.
“You know,” he said with a smile, “it just occurred to me that you asked me to marry you, or as close to as you can get, and I haven’t even had the chance to kiss you yet.”
My heart leapt. I licked my lips, practically tasting him already. “I assume you’re planning on correcting that horrible oversight?”
His smile grew. “Less of a plan, more of a ‘let’s see where this takes us.’”
He tipped his head and brushed his mouth against mine. Barely a ghost of a kiss, but it woke up every nerve in my body. It woke up my spark, only just dulled from Damon’s kiss.
But Jin didn’t kiss like Damon at all. He didn’t do anything like Damon. He took his time, easy and languid, kissing a little harder, a little deeper, building my longing without touching me anywhere except my waist and my mouth.
By the time his tongue teased over mine, I was already breathless with wanting. I kissed him back hard, gripping the front of his shirt, as if I could pull him into moving faster. But there was something exquisite about the slow, sure escalation. I was so sensitized just from his kisses that the moment his fingers eased up my side, every inch of my skin quivered with excitement.
“No need to rush,” he murmured, the heel of his hand grazing the side of my chest. “I want you to enjoy every second of this.”
“Oh, believe me, I am,” I said in a voice so husky I barely recognized it.
Then he palmed my breast, and I moaned.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jin
Rose’s eyelids fluttered. I loved the way the flush in her cheeks deepened when I stroked my thumb over her hardened nipple. I loved the little noise she made in her throat when I nibbled the corner of her jaw.
Even better than all of that, though, was knowing that with each shiver of pleasure I gave her, I was lighting that fire of magic inside her. Joy and power all in one.
“Jin,” she murmured, tilting her chin to give me better access. I moved my mouth down the side of her neck with a flick of my tongue for good measure. God, she tasted as gorgeous as she looked, sweet and flowery.
My thumb swiveled with steadily increasing pressure around the peak of her breast. She whimpered, her hips arching toward me. Our Briar Rose had woken up, all right. And I wanted her welcome to be the headiest experience of her life.
I released her breast just for a moment to slip my hand up under her shirt and unclasp her bra. As the cups fell loose, I nudged them up, caressing her sensitive skin directly. Rose’s breath stuttered against my mouth as I caught her lips for another kiss.
I kissed her until I felt drunk from the taste of her, like some kind of rose wine. High from the gasps she made as I stroked her nipple to an even stiffer point. I dipped my head, slicking my tongue over the tip of her neglected breast through the textured fabric. Rose quivered and moaned.
Her hips swayed toward me again, hungrily. I didn’t want to rush through this interlude, but I didn’t want to leave her unsatisfied too long either.
I fondled her breasts until her breath had turned into panting. One of her hands had balled against my shoulder. The other had tangled into my hair. She whimpered in what sounded like protest when I straightened up, but only for a moment. Then I kissed her again, lingering but deep, as my fingers trailed down her belly to her jeans.
She trembled at the loosing of the button, pressing her mouth more insistently against mine. I eased my hand down. First teasing over the soft skin of her lower belly. Then the silky curls of her mound. Then that little nub that made her cry out the second my fingertips brushed it.
I pulled back to watch her as I explored even lower. Her delicate folds were so slick with arousal my cock hardened painfully. As if sensing that, Rose reached down my chest. I caught her wrist.
“No,” I said, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “This, right now, is all for you.”
I curled one finger inside her hot, tight center, and then another. The heel of my hand rubbed against her clit. Her hips bucked. We found a rhythm together, between the rocking of her body toward me and the pulse of my fingers inside her.
Her breath spilled, jerky and searing, over my chest. Her head had tipped back against the wall, her whole face flushed now, her lips parted and eyelids low. An ache filled my chest. I pumped my fingers faster, wanting to give her the release she was craving so badly.
“You’re beautiful, Rose,” I said under my breath. “Absolutely stunning. No matter what happens after today, I want you to know that. You don’t deserve anything less from anyone than how I’m making you feel right now. So never, ever settle for it.”
“Jin,” she mumbled. “I almost—oh. Oh!”
Her body outright quaked. Her core clamped around my fingers. I wrapped my free arm around her, bracing her against me as she unraveled. Her limbs went limp against me, her head sagging so her forehead rested against my shoulder. A sigh tumbled out of her.
After a moment riding out the last tremors, I slid my hand out of her panties. She touched the side of my face and drew my mouth back to hers. Her kiss sucked me in, making my head spin. It took all my willpower not to press her back against the wall with my hips and release some of the pressure straining inside my pants.
Her arms tightened around me. “I don’t want to go back,” she said.
I eased away far enough for her to see my smile. “Just one more day, right? Tomorrow you can tear down their plans and kick them to the curb.”
“Yeah,” she said, determination flaring in her eyes. But the worry still lingered there.
“If you think you’d be safer hiding out here,” I started to offer automatically.
She shook her head. “If I don’t come home, Celestine will panic. I don’t want to find out what she’d do then. To me and to anyone she finds me with.” She sucked in a breath. “It’s fine. I can do this. Like you said, just one more day.”
I had said that, but as I waved her off, my throat felt even tighter than the crotch of my jeans.
At least one of those things I could fix. I ducked into the bathroom and brought myself over the edge with just a few strokes of my rigid cock and the thought of Rose moaning beneath me.
When I came out into the living room, the whole space felt more vibrant somehow. As if Rose had left some lingering brightness behind. Worry still nibbled at the edge of my mind, but otherwise my nerves were singing. My fingers itched to hold something a little more constructive than my dick.
I pushed past the door to my upstairs studio, what was meant to be the master bedroom with the largest of the second-floor windows. A piece that was only half-finished stood on the easel in the middle of the room. I’d been poking at the image last night but hadn’t managed to pull it together.
Now, stepping through the doorway, the blank space on the canvas struck me with a rush of revelation. In the back of my head I could suddenly see exactly how—if I brought the orange tones across here—deepened the purple that swirled through the lower edge—where was that clay I’d thought I might mix into some new work? Yes, yes, that was exactly what it needed. A smear here, a slap there. Rake the paintbrush through it. Building out and toppling down...
When I stopped, my tacky hands falling to my sides, I was breathing hard. Fumes of oil and earth saturated my lungs. Staring at the picture I’d brought together made my heart squeeze.
I hadn’t even known this wrenching beauty was what I’d meant to capture. The buildings I’d drawn roughly along the banks of a river bulged and melted down the bank. The sun burned through the haze to sear the water. The scene was ruined and breathtaking all at once.
When was the last time I’d created something that made me feel this
much?
My gaze drifted through the room, to the canvases leaning against the walls, ones I hadn’t chosen for display yet, others I’d been holding back for a larger auction. All work I had been proud of.
In comparison to the image I’d just pulled into being in the space of half an hour, all those pieces looked dull. Hollow. They showed the picture I’d tried to paint… and that was it. I’d been happy enough with them. I’d known I’d get compliments, buyers. But did they really stir anything in me?
Maybe they had when I’d constructed them. But not like this. Nothing like this.
How had I started coasting on talent rather than pushing it harder, without even realizing?
Rose had helped me find my way back. I swallowed hard, swiping the back of my arm across my damp forehead. A tug of longing in my chest nagged at me to get her back here. Hell, to get her right in here, to see her amid my work, to see what stirred in me then. I never let anyone come into the studio with me, but her…
I closed my eyes. I was getting too caught up. Rose was spectacular, I’d never doubted that. But I couldn’t make a decision about tying myself to another person—to four other people, really, if the other guys took her offer—for the rest of my life based on one ecstatic painting.
I had time. There wasn’t any need to rush in. We could take more moments to… explore each other. Enjoy each other. I could see how I felt, how she felt, after more of that.
By the time I’d finished washing the paint and clay off my hands, the sink was streaked nearly as bright as the canvas was. I was rinsing the porcelain clean in turn when my phone rang where I’d left it in the living room. I gave my hands a hasty rub with the towel and jogged to get it.
It was my dad. “Hey,” I said. “How’s the recording going?” He’d been holed up with his latest rock star client laying down bass tracks for the last couple weeks.
“Almost done,” Dad said in his usual jovial voice. “That’s why I’m calling. I just got a fantastic offer. One of the bands I worked with last year is hitting a bunch of the spring music festivals in South America and they want me along for the ride.”
And he was so excited about that he’d needed to call me right away? “That’s great,” I said, not totally sure what to add. We might have had artistic temperaments in common, but sometimes I didn’t totally understand my dad.
“That’s not the point, Jin,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a very relaxed schedule, eight shows across a month. Lots of time to see the sights and enjoy the local scenery in between. I thought you might want to come with me.”
“Oh,” I said, with a weird twist of my gut. “When is this?”
“We’d leave next week. I figured, the loose schedule you tend to keep, the short notice wouldn’t be too much of a problem? They only just asked me.” He paused, and his next words tumbled out faster. “It’s been a while since you hit the road with me—and we never did South America. It’d be good to spend some quality time with you again, kid.”
It had been a while. I should have been excited by the possibility. New places and cultures to absorb and pour back into my art—that was what I lived for.
But all I could think of in that first instant was Rose. Rose and a month away from her, a month that might mean I lost her completely. I glanced back toward my studio, toward the work that had come to me in a burst of inspiration more intense than anything my jaunts with Dad had ever provoked.
Maybe I hadn’t been coasting at all. Maybe Rose simply woke up something deeper in me than I would ever be capable on my own.
“Well, I…” I started, struggling to decide what to say.
“If there’s some kind of conflict, let me know and maybe I can help you sort it out,” Dad jumped in. “I’ll be home for a few days before we’d need to take off on the tour anyway.”
It hit me then: the desperate note in his voice. Dad was lonely. He wasn’t offering this only for my benefit—he was begging for the company.
Why wouldn’t he be lonely? He spent more time running around catering to his famous clients than tending to his relationship with Mom. They seemed to get along well enough when he was in town, but I couldn’t tell how much they even had in common anymore. They had more like a series of quick flings than an actual marriage. He’d been a cool but erratic older friend to me more than an actual father.
Was that what I wanted for the rest of my life, with any girls who came into it? Was that what I’d take, just to avoid the thought of commitment, when I’d been offered something so much greater?
My chest clenched. “Dad,” I said, “I’m sorry, and I’m looking forward to seeing you next week, but I really can’t leave. Not right now.”
We went back and forth a few more times, and in the end Dad said we could talk more when he got home. After I’d hung up, I sank down on my back on the couch. Somehow exhausted and excited and terrified out of my mind all at once.
This opportunity was what I’d been waiting for, wasn’t it? Even if I hadn’t let myself admit it. To find my way back to the dynamic that had sparked between the six of us when we were younger, that had changed everything about how I saw the world.
But what Rose had offered had only been hopes. What were the chances we could make them real?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rose
Philomena sprang at me the second I came in the manor door. “So how did it go?” she asked, her skirts rustling as she hustled with me up the staircase. “What did they think of your stunning proposition?”
“They’re thinking about it,” I told her. “Which they should.” As much as part of me longed to claim the guys completely as mine this instant, I knew I didn’t really want that. “It’s a risk for them too. Probably even more than it is for me. It won’t really count unless they’ve thought the risks through and decided they’re all in anyway.”
“I’ve seen the way they look at you,” Phil said. “All of them. I don’t think there’s anything in this world that could tear them away from you.”
There had been, once already. And her name was Celestine. I touched my pocket, feeling the faint outline of the folded papers there: the contract, and the hasty photocopy I’d made while I was in town.
Dad should be home mid-day tomorrow. I had less than twenty-four hours left before all this could be over. Spark take me, I wished I could bury myself in my duvet and not come out of my room until he was here.
The first thing I did when I reached my room was open the wobbly bit at the base of my bookcase to stash the photocopy. If Celestine noticed the contract was gone before Dad got back, she could track it down easily enough, but there was no magic in that ordinary piece of paper for her to trace. It wouldn’t be as solid proof as having the original, but it’d be enough to convince at least Dad, I thought. A little extra precaution never hurt anyone.
My hand slid into the narrow space to nudge aside the phone—and touched only the cool wood of the floor. I frowned, pushing my fingers deeper. Had I shoved it in farther than I usually did the last time I’d used it?
My groping hand encountered nothing but dust mice. Pulling my arm back, I squinted into the dark space. I couldn’t see anything in there either.
My pulse started to thump. I stood up and glanced around my room. Had I forgotten to put the phone away after I’d confirmed today’s meeting with the guys last night? I’d been so careful with it up until now. And surely if I’d left it out last night, I’d have noticed it in the morning before I left?
“What’s wrong?” Phil asked, her forehead furrowing.
“The prepaid phone I used to talk to the guys,” I said. “It’s gone.” And I couldn’t see it by my bed or on my desk or anywhere else I might have set it down if its disappearance had just been an accident, either.
Phil’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” I grabbed my purse and dumped its contents onto the bed. My heart sank lower as I pawed through them. Only my regular phone, the one Dad had g
otten me as part of our Family Plan, was there. If the prepaid one wasn’t anywhere in the room or anywhere on me…
I dropped onto the bed, pressing the heels of my hands to my temples. “Rose?” Phil said tentatively.
“Someone found it,” I said, the words coming roughly even in my head. “Either I left it out and someone saw it, or someone searched my room for anything I might be hiding.”
“Your stepmother.”
“If it wasn’t her, it’d be someone who’d have taken what they found to her.”
The loss of the phone wasn’t a total catastrophe. I’d deleted all the message threads as they’d come in. Kyler had given it to me with the numbers programmed in, but I’d deleted those contacts as soon as I’d memorized them. Celestine couldn’t know what I’d been using the phone for.
But she knew that I’d had a secret phone for some purpose. That I must have been communicating with people I didn’t think she or my father would approve of. And she’d taken it away from me.
I still had my regular phone. I could still—
I groped for it and brought up my account information. Was there any way I could keep a message or two totally private, even with the linked plans? She’d be monitoring anything I did with this phone even more now.
A window popped up on the screen informing me that my account had been temporarily disabled. I stared at it for a second, my fingers tightening around the phone.
My computer? I darted to my desk and flipped open the laptop. But even that brief hope was squashed a second later. The icon for the internet connection was crossed out. I tried to reconnect to the house’s network, and an error message popped up. Incorrect password.
“Is that bad?” Philomena ventured.
I straightened up, my stomach knotting. “Yeah. I can’t talk to the guys at all.”
