by Erika Kelly
He hated the reminder that she was using him, but…this is about her. He wanted her to do it all here. Wanted her to associate all her best times with him.
He handed it to her, and she sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. With her forehead tense in concentration, she started to stretch it over his dick, but it got stuck and the latex squeezed around his sensitive head.
“Here.” He showed her how to pinch the tip. “Unroll it on me.”
“But you’re so big. Will it fit?”
Her mouth so near his dick made him ache, but he just chuckled. “Yeah, princess. It’s the right size. Hurry up and get it on, before I stuff your mouth a second time.”
She flicked her gaze up to him, and damn if he didn’t love the way she got so worked up over his words. “Okay.” She said it all breathy. With her trembling fingers, she still struggled to get the tight opening over his head, so he helped her along, until he had himself fully sheathed.
With a chin nod, he got her to lay down. Eyes heavy with lust, she did as he asked, and he crawled over her. She was so damn pretty.
“Never gonna forget how your hair looks spread over my pillow like that.”
“I’m never going to forget how wild you make me feel.” She grasped his wrists.
He loved when her words came out like that, all whispery and shaky, like she had too much emotion rumbling under the surface. He nudged her knee, and she spread wider for him. “You ready for me, sweetheart?”
Her eyelids fluttered, and she nodded.
He wondered at the shimmer in her eyes—tears? Hands bracketing her shoulders, he lowered himself, needing to see her face as he entered her. Slowly, he pushed into her hot, slick channel.
Her lips parted, her neck arched, and she was so damn wet, he thrust all the way in. She clutched his back, and those drowsy eyes made him lose it. He pulled back, snapped his hips, and slammed back in.
Jesus.
No one had ever felt so good. The sound of skin slapping, the sight of her breasts bouncing. Christ. He wanted it to last forever. He needed more, deeper, harder. So fucking good.
He wanted her so damn much…but he couldn’t bear showing her everything he was feeling, so he tucked his face into her neck, closing his eyes, and breathing her in. He powered into her, felt the gush of arousal when he tilted his hips and hit her in just the right place.
He needed to come, so he reached between them and stroked her clit, barely able to keep a rhythm. “Gotta come, Rosie. Swear to God, I’m gonna come so fucking hard.”
“Yes.” Fingernails digging into his back, she lifted her ass off the mattress and met his rough, reckless thrusts. Her body writhed and twisted, and she cried out.
Need to see her. He pushed up on his hands so he could watch the climax seize her pretty features, and when she came back down, when she went limp and contentedly sated, he sat up on his heels, grabbed her hips, and dragged her onto his lap. Watching the head of his cock push back inside her slick heat turned him into an animal.
Letting loose, he gave into the urgency of his need. Got yanked under by those tits shaking, her sexy mouth gaping open, her hands gripping his thighs. He’d never seen anything hotter than Rosie taking his cock and loving it.
Desire peaked so hard and fast it hurt, and he pulled her tightly against him, holding her right there, as his climax hit with a ferocity that blinded him. With each hard, short thrust, he emptied more of himself, until he was completely spent.
Collapsing at her side, he covered his face with his hand. He’d never felt so raw, so exposed. And a little sick to his stomach that he’d fallen this hard for a woman he couldn’t have.
“Gotta deal with the rubber.” He rolled out of bed and went into his bathroom. Staring at himself in the mirror, he realized he was an asshole. Telling her how he felt was selfish and not what she wanted from him. So, he’d shut his mouth and take what she had to give.
He’d trained for the Olympics, for Christ’s sake. He knew all about discipline. He could keep his feelings in check and just enjoying fucking her.
He cleaned up, brushed his teeth, and when he came back to bed, he found Rosie lying there awkwardly, sheet pulled up to her collarbone. “Hey.” She looked completely freaked out, but he checked the impulse to curl up next to her and reassure her. “You good?”
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to stay or go back to my room. I don’t want to make this uncomfortable, but I figured I should ask instead of being gone when you got back out here.”
He loved her honesty. The way she put herself out there, opening her heart and laying it all on the line. “You do whatever you want. I’m up at five to go running with my brothers, so wherever you’ll sleep best.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. That makes it easy.” Sitting up, she gave a little laugh. “Wish I’d taken off my clothes in here so I wouldn’t have to make the quarter-mile walk of shame.”
It was a long hallway, and he didn’t want her to be self-conscious, so he pulled a clean T-shirt out of his dresser. “No shame. I had a great night.”
She relaxed then, throwing off the covers and unfolding the shirt. She slid it over her head. “It was so good. I’ve never…well, you know.”
Yeah, she was still uncomfortable. “I know. Glad you could let loose with me.” All he needed to do was walk over there, wrap his arms around her and say, “Now, get back into bed,” and she’d curl up against him and…he could take a full breath again. He knew he’d have the best sleep of his life.
She stood, and the shirt fell to the middle of her thighs. “I just hope I haven’t ruined our working relationship.”
It shouldn’t have pinched, but it did. “Hell, if anything you’ve improved it.”
Her smile faltered, dimmed, then went out completely. “Okay, well. Goodnight.”
“’Night.” He watched her go, felt the tug like a cord wrapped around his heart, squeezing tighter with each step.
Stay with me.
At the door, she turned, smiling shyly at him. “I like you Brodie. And I really like having sex with you.”
He chuckled, even though his heart cracked and splintered. He’d never met anyone like her, and he knew down to his bones he never would again.
So, it fucking killed him to watch her walk out his bedroom door.
Chapter Sixteen
The slam of a door startled Rosalina awake. Her eyelids popped open to a shock of sunlight streaming through a part in the curtains. She jolted, but a heavy weight held her down.
Squinting against the brightness, she found a thick, hairy arm curving around her, holding her tight against a hot, hard body.
Brodie.
So that explained the steel bar lodged between her legs. She grinned.
And then she remembered last night—the backseat of his truck, his tongue…God. Then, in his bed, the way he’d yanked her up on his thighs…the way he’d watched himself slide into her body, it was like he’d never seen anything sexier in his life.
Without even thinking, she pressed her bottom back and squirmed a little, enjoying the hot flare of desire that ripped through her.
Wait a minute.
What’s he doing in my bed?
Laughter came from the living area, deep male voices. “Where the hell is he?”
The voices came closer, and she rocked against him to wake him up.
“Which bedroom’s he using?” a guy said.
“Must be this one. Door’s closed.”
The door flung open, and three brawny, gorgeous men piled into the room. All of them stared at her in bed with their brother.
“Hi. Morning.” She shook Brodie’s completely limp arm. “I mean, is he dead?”
“He’s not normally such a deep sleeper,” Will said.
“I got this.” Fin, the baddest of them all, strode into the bathroom and came back out with a cup of water, tossing it into his brother’s face.
Brodie sat bolt upright, water dripping down his cheeks and plastering his hair to his s
calp. “What the hell?” He looked around. “Where am I?”
“Ooh, that’s not gonna go over well,” Gray said.
“You’re in my room,” Rosalina said. “You must’ve wandered in here last night.”
The brothers snickered.
“No, I’m serious. When I left him—after we had sex…” She gave them a look that said she didn’t have a problem owning up to it. “He was in his own room.”
Brodie squeezed her thigh. “None of their business.”
“Well, we’re naked in bed together. We can address the obvious.”
“You found me.” Brodie gestured to the door. “Now, can you guys get the hell out of Rosie’s bedroom?”
“Yeah, sure,” Will said. “It’s just, you didn’t show up to run with us, so we figured we’d check in on you.”
“Want to grab some breakfast?” Fin looked to Rosalina.
“I’d love that.” She nudged her bedmate. God, he looked adorable with rumpled hair and the crease on his cheek. “You hungry?”
“I’m tired.” He glared at his brothers. “But, yeah, sure. We’ll meet you at the diner.”
“Come to the main house,” Will said. “Delilah’s cooking.”
The three of them stared at Brodie like they were wondering if she’d drugged and tied him to her bed.
“What?” Brodie snapped.
“Nothing.” Fin gave the others a push. “Let’s go.”
Will lingered, his gaze shifting from Brodie to her and then back to his brother. She was probably reading into it, but she could’ve sworn the message in his eyes said, You know what you’re doing here?
She definitely didn’t miss Brodie’s answering look. None of your business. Get out.
Once they were alone, Brodie jammed his hands through his hair. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. I was as surprised as they were to find you in my bed.”
Color rushed to his cheeks. “I missed you.”
“You did?” Three simple words poured salve into the open wound he’d carved last night. “You were so cold after…when you came back from the bathroom. I guess now I know for sure I’m not the hookup type. I tried really hard to keep it fun, to not let myself get emotionally involved, but I can’t. It’s just not for me.”
“Rosie?” He looked down at his hands, obviously conflicted. “I just want you to be happy. And if you want to have some fun with me, then I’ll do it. But I…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple jumping. He turned toward her, grabbing her hand. “I want to be with you.”
His gruffly whispered words made her heart soar. With that permission, she threw herself into his arms, swinging a leg over his thighs and straddling his lap. “We’re in big trouble, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, princess, looks like we are.”
The Bowies lived in a massive stone, wood, and glass masterpiece of a home that blended in with the surrounding meadow and sat against the dramatic backdrop of the Teton Mountain Range.
“You grew up here?” Rosalina asked.
Expressionless behind the mirrored sunglasses, he said, “Sure did.”
“It’s magnificent.” As they pulled into the circular driveway, she smoothed the skirt of her sundress. Dropping the sun visor, she did a quick check of her lipstick and hair.
The moment Brodie came to a stop, he shifted into park and placed his hand on her knee.
“Hey. You’re Rosie here, okay? You can just be yourself, and they’re going to love you.”
She relaxed into his touch. “You read me so well.”
“It’s in your posture.” He tilted his chin and affected the regal air of a queen.
She swatted him. “I do not look like that.”
“Yeah, you do. You definitely have two modes. Princess and Rosie. Personally, I like Rosie, because she puts out.”
She laughed. It seemed impossible and unfair that she’d meet a man like Brodie but only get to have him for a few weeks.
He cut the engine, and they both got out. Meeting her in front of the truck, he reached for her hand. She liked the feel of it—the protective, possessive grip. “Every second of my life, even when I’m away from home, I’m in control. I watch what I say, what I eat, how I walk. I make sure my lipstick’s perfect and my bra straps aren’t showing.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re paparazzi ready.”
“Exactly. So, here, where I don’t have to do any of that, I’m just…totally out of my element.”
“But in a good way?”
“In the best way imaginable.”
Surrounded by birds chirping and a warm breeze rustling the leaves, they headed up the slate walkway. Once inside, she stopped to take it all in. A huge stone fireplace with a dark wood mantelpiece took up the far wall. Leather couches and club chairs made up small gathering areas, giving the vast, high-ceiling room a cozy feel. The fittings were wrought iron and dark-stained wood, and the place was spotless and well-cared for.
She followed Brodie toward the bursts of laughter and conversation in a massive, white kitchen. Everyone was gathered at the island in the center of the room, except for a little girl and an older man with a white pompadour, mustache, and beard. They were talking quietly at the table.
“Oh, hey, Brodie.” Callie pulled him into a hug, then reached out to her. “Come on in. I’m so glad you could come.”
“Thank you so much for having me over,” she said.
Brodie squeezed her hand. “What’s cookin’?”
She smiled up at him. I’m doing it again. It was just that… while the kitchen smelled just like hers at home, with the baking bread, buttery eggs, and something sweet and cinnamony, the dynamic here was totally different. The castle was quiet and subdued, everyone extremely polite; this family was rambunctious and loud, constantly ribbing each other.
Delilah came up to her with a big, colorful plate. “Hey, hon.” She wrapped her up in her arms. “Food’s ready, grab what you want and come on outside. It’s gorgeous this morning, so we’re eating on the patio.”
“Thank you.” Rosalina took in the offerings. Her mouth watered at the sight of big, fat cinnamon rolls oozing with gooey filling, white frosting dripping down the sides. Always a careful eater, she skimmed across the platters piled with bacon and sausage and settled on the fresh fruit in a pretty ceramic bowl.
But that just seemed so…blah. It’s such a go-to choice. She wasn’t sure where to start, so she reached for the pitcher of hand-squeezed orange juice—which she knew was fresh because of the halved oranges sitting in a bowl beside the juicer.
“You look overwhelmed,” Knox said.
“I am.” She gave an uncomfortable laugh. “My home is much quieter than this.”
“I get it. It was just me and my mom growing up, but the thing is, here, you can be quiet and eat your breakfast, or you can jump on the table and belt out a Celine Dion power ballad. It doesn’t matter. They’re just really easy-going. So, eat what you want, do what you want, and give yourself time to get used to the Bowie clan.”
“That’s great advice.”
“Good.” Knox put a chocolate croissant on her plate and headed outside.
And suddenly Rosalina was hungry. Starving, in fact. She hadn’t really eaten dinner last night, and then, of course, she’d had sex twice.
The memory of Brodie’s cock in her mouth, his desperate expression right before he’d shoved his face in her neck, sent a blast of awareness through her. Oh, my. She turned to find him talking to his brothers, laughing. He was so ruggedly handsome, so powerful…he was just everything she’d never known she’d wanted in a man.
He glanced at her with a warm, sweet smile. His brother must’ve said something about them, because he elbowed him and said, “Fuck off.”
Turning back to the island, she piled scrambled eggs onto her plate. A slice of bacon, a sausage patty…even a cinnamon roll. God, she never indulged like this.
And then, just as she was heading outside, a voice called, “Rosalina
?”
The room went quiet, and she whipped around to find—
“Marcel?”
“Hello.” He looked around the room with his superior air.
How had she never noticed that before? Her family took its role as monarchs seriously, but they viewed themselves as caretakers, guardians of the people and the country. They never viewed themselves as better. They were just stewards of the land their forefathers had claimed in battles.
Maybe it was the contrast of the Bowie family—all four extremely accomplished and wealthy men were humble, generous, and viewed themselves as no different than anyone else— but in this setting, Marcel came off as pompous.
Flustered, she set her plate down and crossed the room. “This is Marcel, a friend from St. Christophe.” Just as the family started to migrate towards them to say hello, Rosalina grabbed his arm and said, “Can you please excuse us?” Crap. Back in princess mode. Well, what the hell was Marcel doing in Calamity? She didn’t want St. Christophe crashing in on her freedom. She led Marcel across the living room and out the front door. Once in the shade of the porch, she turned to him. “What’re you doing here?”
In his khakis and white dress shirt, sandy hair held in place with pomade, he looked refined and totally out of place on the Bowie ranch. “You’re not talking to me, Rosalina. You’ve ignored my calls and my texts. What did you expect me to do?”
“I expect you to give me the space I asked for.” Each word cracked like a whip. She never spoke with such high emotion, but she was so angry that he’d intrude on her time here.
“I can’t do that. We can’t fix our relationship if you’re pretending I don’t exist.”
“There’s nothing to fix, you jackass. You cheated on me.”
“Oh, that’s nice. That’s…” He twisted away from her with a look of distaste. “I see this place has done wonders for you.”
“It has.”
“Look, I never slept—”
“Shut your stupid, lying, stuck-up mouth. The fact that you’re still saying it means you don’t get it at all. You don’t listen to me.” She paced away from him on the wide-planked porch. “It’s over, Marcel. There’s no coming back from who I’ve become.”
