His warm palm cupped her cheek, the heat of it silencing her as effectively as if he’d laid his hand over her mouth. “It’s not you, darlin’.” His voice had softened, though there was something fierce in his eyes. “You were…amazing.” His thumb stroked along her cheekbone, the gentleness of the touch making her throat tighten. “But I was serious about the work stuff. And the rest of it… I’m not a long-term kind of man, understand?”
She couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his hand, wanting more of that warmth against her. “I’m not looking for long-term, West. God, I’m only twenty-one. It’s not like I’m after marriage or anything. But I thought…I thought we could have another night.”
His dark gold brows drew down, the morning sun highlighting the stark, masculine beauty of his face. There were lines around his mouth, lines around his eyes, showing up white on his tanned skin, and it hit her all of a sudden that he was a man with a history. A history she knew nothing about.
A history she wanted to learn. Which was just so fucking typical. Why was it that something only started to get interesting right when it was about to be taken away?
“Please,” she heard herself say, sounding way more desperate than she wanted to. “Just one more night.”
He stared at her for a long minute, and she couldn’t have said what he was thinking. But that thumb on her cheekbone moved back and forth, stroking her, reminding her of how he’d touched her the night before. With purpose and yet always gentle.
Abruptly, he bent and kissed her, his mouth open and hot, like he wanted to remind himself of her taste. And she closed her eyes, trying to resist the urge to rise up on her toes and kiss him back, to put her arms around his neck and hold onto him tightly.
After a moment, he pulled away, a familiar metallic glitter in his eyes. “One more night then,” he said, the rough edge in his voice pronounced. “But that’s all.”
The small hard knot that had gathered tight in the center of her chest loosened, the disappointment easing. But she wasn’t going to let either of those sensations mean anything, so she ignored them, settling for one of her trademark naughty smiles. “Anything you say, big man.” Then she turned her cheek against his hand and kissed his palm.
The silver glint in his eyes glowed brighter, his hard, sexy mouth curving slightly. “Go get in the car, darlin’. You don’t want to miss out on those waffles.”
“Hell no,” she agreed and did as she was told, sliding into the passenger seat. But it wasn’t waffles she was thinking about as he moved around the car and got in, starting up the engine.
She turned her head to look at him as he put his shades on and planted his foot, taking them back onto the road in the direction of the highway.
No, she was thinking of him. Of maybe wanting more than one night. Of maybe wanting to know what had put those lines on his face, what those tattoos that marked his skin meant. What his history was.
West glanced at her and she could see her reflection in the dark lenses of his aviator shades. “Want to choose us some music, Rosie girl?”
No, one night definitely wasn’t enough. Maybe even two wouldn’t be. And sure, he had a point about them working together, but surely they could figure something out? After all, plenty of people worked together and had relationships quite happily.
You’re thinking relationships now?
Well, not exactly. In fact, she didn’t quite know what she was thinking. One thing was for sure, however: if she wanted more, she was going to have to make him change his mind. She was going to have to give it to him so damn good he couldn’t think of anything else but her.
Pleased with herself now that she had a plan, Rose leaned back in her seat and kicked her feet up onto the dash, arching her back to make it sexy. “Sure. Are we having old man music again? Or can you handle something more this century?”
He turned his attention back to the road, the smile curving his mouth a little deeper than before. “You keep up that attitude, darlin’, and you’ll earn yourself another spanking.”
A delicious shiver went through her. “Oh, I do hope so.”
“It’s either that or you don’t get waffles.”
Rose sighed. “Old man music it is.” And she reached forward to punch the button on the stereo.
8
West finished up his phone call with Duchess, stuck his phone into his pocket, and headed back into the diner he and Rose had stopped at for lunch.
Duchess had wanted to know how Rose was doing and whether she’d been behaving herself, and it hadn’t been a total lie to tell her that yes, everything was fine and sure, Rose was completely behaving herself. He just left out the having to spank her then fuck her senseless part, because that was information Duchess definitely didn’t need to know.
He’d changed the subject pretty quickly after that, moving on to the more important part, which was seeing if there were any more updates on Ian Jenkins. Luckily there wasn’t. The prick was still in Vegas, which was all good.
What wasn’t good was being left with nothing to occupy his thoughts but Rose. Rose and everything they’d done the night before.
Everything he’d done to her the night before.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her she’d been amazing. She had been. Despite her inexperience – or maybe even because of it – she’d been so willing and passionate and sensual. Sweet, too, and very brave, taking everything he threw at her and then coming back for more.
He’d found himself unable to keep his hands off her and it had only been through sheer force of will – and a long fucking run – that had stopped him from joining her on the bed after he’d pulled the sheets off her that morning.
Which was a problem. Anything further between them than sex was not happening, and not just because of them working together and their age difference.
He wasn’t a good man for her. He wasn’t a good man for anyone, and that hadn’t changed no matter how sweet, vulnerable or otherwise she was.
West banged the door of the diner open in time to see some asshole leaning over the table where Rose sat. The prick was smiling and obviously asking a question, and Rose was smiling back and chatting with him.
And all West could think of was ‘Oh, hell no’.
Then Rose flicked a glance over to the door like she was checking where he was and whether he was looking. And then she rearranged the way she sat, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, giving the guy a good look down her cleavage. At the same time, her smile became warmer and a whole lot sexier.
A dangerous anger simmered inside him, hot and acidic, and it took effort to force it back down. Which was a very bad sign indeed, but he didn’t want to think about that. The important question was just what the fuck did Rose think she was doing? Making him jealous? And if so, why? He’d told her they could have one more night – which was probably mistake but he’d said it anyway, because he couldn’t say no – so what was she trying to prove now?
Whatever the reason, it was a really stupid move.
Because it’s working.
West shoved that thought away and came back over to the table, not hurrying, yet not exactly taking it slow either. She wasn’t looking at him, giving the guy leaning over her a wicked come-on from underneath her lashes.
But it wasn’t going to go any further, because by now, he was there.
“Time to go, darlin’,” he drawled, sliding his hands into his pockets.
Rose’s eyes widened. “What? But we only just got here?”
The man who’d been leaning over her straightened, frowning at West. “He giving you any trouble, sweetheart?”
West gave him a pleasant smile, but let a hint of violence gleam in his eyes. “No, he’s not. And she’s also not your sweetheart, friend.”
Showing he had an excellent instinct for self-preservation, the man held up his hands and began backing away. “No problem. Sorry if I overstepped.”
“You didn’t overstep—” Rose started.
> West pinned her with a look. “Outside. Now.”
She followed him sullenly as he went out of the diner, going down the steps and through the dusty parking lot to where he’d parked the Impala. Then he turned and pushed her abruptly up against the hot metal of the car, putting his hands on the edge of the roof on either side of her.
A look of surprise slid over her face, before giving way to the hot blue glitter of defiance deep in her eyes.
“So, you want to explain just what the fuck you were doing back there?” he demanded.
Her mouth curved in her trademark flirtatious smile. “Maybe I like a little jealousy in a man. Makes a girl feel wanted.”
He didn’t smile back. “I’m not talking about you wanting to make me jealous. I’m talking about why you’re bothering when you have no reason at all to be so fucking insecure.”
Something he couldn’t read flashed across her face. Then she let out a breath and pushed at him, sending him back a few steps. Without a word, she put some distance between them, walking away from the car before slowing and stopping, her back to him, her arms folded. A tight, defensive posture.
“Rose?” he asked, softer this time, because something deeper was going on here. “What is it?”
She shook her head, her back rigid. “Nothing.”
But he’d been around enough women to know that ‘nothing’ meant ‘everything’.
Instinct had him wanting to go to her and pull her into his arms, but he stayed where he was, respecting her need for distance, at least for now.
“Sure, it is,” he said. “Has this got anything to do with Duchess—”
“It’s got nothing to do with my sister.”
He stared at her tense back. He didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “Is it me? What I did to you last night?”
“No.”
Strangely, that didn’t make him feel relieved. “It kind of is though, isn’t it? Because all of this is directed at me.”
Her head bent, curls falling around her shoulders, all brilliant and burnished by the midday sun. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. It is.” She kicked a stone with one sandaled foot. “I’ve been going out to clubs for the past couple of months, you know, trying to find someone. But I never met anyone I liked enough. And I thought that after last night…well. I thought I’d got you out of my system.” She turned and looked at him all of a sudden, almost accusingly. “That guy in the diner was a test. To see if I wanted him. But I didn’t. Because all I could see was you. All I ever see is you.”
The words hit him like a bullet from an unseen gun, unexpected and deadly, and oddly devastating.
“Rose,” he began. “Rosie girl—”
“It’s fine.” She looked away again, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Don’t worry about it. Forget I said anything.”
But it wasn’t fine and he didn’t know what to do about it.
You should never have slept with her, that’s what you should have done.
Frustration shifted inside him, turning to anger. Because of course he shouldn’t have. He’d been intending the sex to frighten her away, to give her what they both wanted, get it out of the way so they could get on with a relationship based on being work colleagues and friends. That was it. Nothing else.
But he’d fucked up. He’d underestimated her and far from being scared, she’d been into it in every way possible. And now he’d promised her another night because, apparently, he couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants.
And she’s going to want more than that, you know she is.
West gritted his teeth. “What exactly do you want from me?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral, to not let his own frustration at himself and how badly he’d screwed up the situation show.
Her attention was on the ground, a single, shining curl falling over one shoulder. “I don’t know. But…One more night isn’t going to be enough.”
Fuck. Fuck.
“I told you. I can’t—”
“I know.” She lifted her head and met his gaze. “That’s why this sucks. Why it’s always sucked.”
“It was just sex, Rose.” Perhaps if he said it convincingly enough he’d believe it, too. “Great sex, sure, but that’s all it was, darlin’. Don’t turn it into something else.”
A flash of what looked horribly like betrayal crossed her face, before she turned her head away again. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”
He could hear the note of pain in her voice and it echoed inside him, making his own chest hurt.
Jesus. Rose and her straight-up emotional honesty were going to kill him. He wanted her sassy and confrontational, teasing and testing him, not this…awful vulnerability.
It hurt him. It made him feel like an even bigger shit than he already was. Hurting her during sex was one thing, but hurting her out of the bedroom? Hurting her emotionally?
Asshole. Fucking asshole.
She was standing in the dusty midday sun, golden curls ablaze, her shoulders hunched, face turned away. Hiding her pain.
And he was suddenly, forcefully, reminded of the last time he’d seen Carly. Pretending everything was fine, that she wasn’t heading into another spiral. Asking him for money because she was ‘temporarily’ short of cash and their father wouldn’t lend her anymore. Money for ‘food’ of course, nothing else.
He’d refused, telling her that he wasn’t going to fund her meth habit, and she’d screamed at him. Told him he was an asshole and that if she died, it would be his fault. Before walking out.
He’d known it was her addiction talking, but the doubt still ate away at him. Carly was in that situation because of him. Because he’d brought Ian home. Because he hadn’t been able to keep hold of his temper when he should have been calm, and now, because he hadn’t been able to control his fucking dick, he’d hurt yet another woman. Was still hurting her.
And it was Rose. Sweet, vulnerable, beautiful Rose. And he couldn’t bear it. He could give her a little more, couldn’t he? Yeah, it would fuck with his resolve to keep things work orientated between them, to stay friends, but while they were on the road surely it wouldn’t matter. That should give them enough time to work this thing out of their systems and then everything could go back to normal.
It didn’t work last night. Why would it work in a couple of days?
It would, because by then Rose would know the real him. And once she did, if she wasn’t desperate to get away from him, then she’d certainly be more than happy to go back to being work colleagues.
Friends would be out of the question, not once she knew what a prick he was, but perhaps he could live with that. That was better than her hurting the way she was now.
This was his mess to clean up and he’d clean it. If all she saw was him, then he was going to make sure it was the real him she saw. Not the protector, not the friend. The possessive, angry asshole he was deep inside.
Perhaps once she’d seen that, she’d run. And never stop running.
West moved, closing the distance between them, and her eyes went wide as he came nearer. But she didn’t back away, watching him warily as he came right up to her. And when he reached out and gripped her upper arms, drawing gently her against him, she didn’t protest. Only looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes.
“I meant what I what I said. I’m not any little girl’s forever and I don’t want to be, understand?” He kept his voice flat. “But I can give you right now. I can be what you want me to be for the next few days.”
She swallowed, her gaze searching his face, the soft press of her breasts against his chest a distraction he really didn’t need. “I don’t want you to be anything. I just want you.”
“Then you can have me. But only until this trip is over and after that it’s back to normal, got it?”
“And if I want more than back to normal?”
“Too bad.” He was being hard, but that was his line in the sand and she had to understand. “That’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”
The exp
ression on her face changed, an emotion he couldn’t read flashing over it. Then suddenly she was rising up on her toes the way she had done the night before, pressing her mouth to his in a fleeting kiss.
What the hell have you done? You’re only digging your own fucking hole deeper.
Probably. But the hole was his to dig, not hers. And if this was what she needed, then he’d give it to her. Protecting her was all he’d ever wanted to do.
As she came back down on her feet, he caught the back of her head in his palm, his fingers tangling in her soft golden curls, making her eyes go wide. “Now,” he said softly. “How about you show me how sorry you are for flirting with another man?”
All the breath went out of her in a wild rush, the hot gleam in his gaze making it very clear what he was talking about.
Rose shivered, her hands coming up automatically to press against the hard wall of his chest where the dark blue cotton of his T-shirt stretched over all that hard muscle. He was so strong and hot, and he smelled so good, a heated, masculine spice that got her heart racing and her mouth going dry.
Flirting with that guy had been a disaster, but at the time it had felt like a necessity. She hadn’t been expecting the attention, but the warm and happy feeling she’d had after a couple of hours of West’s company in the truck, teasing him about opera and all kinds of other things, making him laugh, making the silver glint in his eyes glow, had started to fade the moment he’d gone outside to call Lily. And all her doubts had come rushing in. The knowledge that one more night probably wouldn’t be enough for her. The thought that she wouldn’t be able to make him want more.
The guy in the diner had been a test. Both to see if she could get him hooked the way she wanted to do with West, plus to see if she’d feel the same things as she had the night before.
But she hadn’t. Not until the moment West had strolled up to the table, a lethal silver edge glittering in his eyes, and she’d realized.
It was him. It would always be him. Every other guy would only ever be a pale shadow of him and that was a painful and bitter truth.
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