You’ll always be mine. There was never a moment when you weren’t.My jaw clenches, and although I don’t say the words, they echo in my mind.
I’ve kept Rose with me despite everything, in some small corner of myself. What I remembered of her was mine, and I can see bits and pieces of that old Rose in the woman next to me now.
I don’t know why I’m doing this. Am I testing her, or myself? Or am I just trying to find an excuse to slip up, accidentally forget everything I told myself?
I reach out again. She doesn’t react as I slide my hand up her leg. The skin of her thigh is smooth and warm, and I can feel the heat of her pussy so close to where my fingers are, curled around her leg. The throbbing in my dick returns, harder than before, a hot pulse that beats through my entire body.
Moving one of my fingers, I inch it close enough that I can feel her heat and the dampness of her panties. The fabric is barely there. It’s almost like she’s naked.
Rose is holding her breath. She has the same fucking poker face that runs in the family, but her body won’t lie.
I imagine pulling over and dropping her chair backward. I wonder how she would react if I worked her open slowly with my fingers, getting her wetter as she twisted and moaned. The car would get hot, the windows foggy. I’d add more fingers, moving slowly until she was moaning and begging for me.
I would plunge my cock into her wet heat and let her pussy tighten around me, pulling me in. I’d fuck her slowly at first, then tear her dress with my hands, letting it fall away from her naked body. I’d rip a piece off and tie her hands with it, keeping her right where I want her.
I would make her come once and then turn her over and do it again. I might even sit back and let her blow me, fist my hand in her hair and push her down until I felt my cock hit the back of her throat. I’d make her gag and reach around to finger her, making her moan on my cock before I made her come again.
Rose’s breath is coming in thin puffs through her nose as her cheeks flush pink. I wonder if she’s thinking about me too. I wonder what her fantasies are, what she’d imagine me doing.
Maybe she’s imagining something soft. Something like what we once had.
Or maybe, like me, she’s imagining something rough. Something almost like hate sex, hard and unyielding, as much about anger as it is about desire.
Everything swirling through my head is so distracting that I barely realize I’m home. We pull into the garage, and before the car is even in park, Rose pushes her door open and slips out, getting away from me.
I can still smell her though. The heady scent of arousal lingers in the car, mixing with the smell of the leather. She was just as turned on as me. I know she was. She might have tried to keep her face stoic and her eyes locked straight ahead, but her body didn’t lie.
That satisfies me in a way I can’t exactly describe. The thought that I managed to fuck with her defiant attitude makes me grin. I want to prove to her that she’s not immune to temptation, not immune to the feelings that I know she has for me.
I open my door and leave the car, the cool air of the garage brushing against my face. Rose stands on the other side of the car, her small hands fisted at her sides.
As I step up beside her, she reacts to my closeness, holding herself rigid and unyielding. I press a hand against her bare left shoulder, the touch barely there but enough to make her breath catch.
“Welcome home,” I murmur.
CHAPTER7
Rose
Home.
Aiden’s voice rings in my head. His hand feels ghostly on my shoulder, almost weightless. Yet it’s still there, just like the enormous house before me and the truth of my situation.
Aiden’s hand presses. “Well, shall we?”
I can’t be silent. I won’t be mute, some helpless woman tossed around by his will.
“Yes,” I say, infusing my voice with as much steel as I possibly can.
Aiden smirks. I ignore him. There are more important things on my mind.
I have no clue what my father did to get on the O’Reilly family’s bad side. My father has always been a patient man and a thoughtful one. He had ambition, of course, but it was for my sake. He never overreached.
I can’t see how my father could have pissed off anyone, much less the entire O’Reilly family—because clearly, it’s not just Aiden who hates my father.
It’s all of them.
I saw the way Lachlan looked at my father. He’s always been the most calm of all of the brothers, but his green eyes almost glowed with righteous fire as he stared at my dad.
