Rose

by Elle Casey

  He tries not to smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I point my sandwich at him. “Honesty. Remember?”

  He puts his sandwich down and takes my hand. “Okay, I saw the lettuce leaf. But it did not diminish your beauty one iota.”

  I pull my hand from his and slap him gently on the arm. “Oh, shut up. You are such a liar.”

  He takes my sandwich from me and puts it on my plate. He places his hands on either side of my face and leans in close to stare at me. “You could have an entire head of broccoli in your teeth and I’d still think you’re beautiful.”

  My face flushes under his hands. “Well, there’s obviously something wrong with you. Broccoli?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me.” He leans in and kisses me, the scent of his ham sandwich and lemonade making me feel like I’m falling into summer, which is really nice considering how cold it is outside. On a whim, I throw my arms around his neck and pull him toward me, thrilled to have him here in my house and telling me I’m beautiful.

  “You want to know what I was thinking earlier?” he asks, moving his lips down my jawline to my neck so he can kiss me there.

  “Yes.” Goose bumps come out on my arm near where he’s kissing.

  “I was thinking we should take advantage of this alone time and go upstairs.”

  I scoot closer to him, feeling a thrill and then warmth between my legs. “That sounds interesting.”

  He pulls away to look at me. “Interesting? Does that mean it’s a good idea or a strange, rude idea?”

  “Could be a good idea, could be a bad idea. We won’t know until we try it.”

  He stands immediately, his chair making a scraping sound as it slides along the floor. He holds his hand out. “I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”

  I stand, another thrill running through me. I am so ready for him; my body is already responding, and he hasn’t even really touched it yet. I place my hand in his. “Okay. I am too.”

  We race up the stairs together, both of us realizing that this is one of those stolen moments that only come around once in a while in busy lives like ours. Who knows when we’ll have this kind of time together again? We reach my room, both of us breathing heavily and laughing as we trip over our own feet trying to get in the door. As soon as I lock it behind us, Greg grabs me, pulling me against him.

  “How much time do we have?” he asks.

  “We have as much time as we need. It doesn’t matter if people come back before we’re done.”

  “No, we need to be back downstairs when they get here.”

  I stop snuggling against him and pull away. “Why?” I’m trying not to be offended. Is he embarrassed to be with me?

  “Because. I work for those guys. I need to stay professional around them.”

  I nod, my worries fading away instantly. “I get it. That’s fair.”

  He lunges toward me and grabs me around the waist, making me squeal in surprise. “Get over here, girl. We don’t have enough time to be messing around.”

  I throw my arms around his neck and pull him down to me. “But I thought we were supposed to be messing around.”

  He spanks me on the butt. “No, we’re fooling around, not messing around. Why do you have all these clothes on?”

  I step away and pull them off in mere seconds. My shirt goes flying and my jeans follow right behind. My bra and panties are gone, dropped at my feet. I’m standing in front of him, naked as the day I was born, waiting for him to follow suit.

  He stands there staring at me. “Damn, girl. Look what you were hiding under all that fabric. Mmm, mmm, mmm . . .”

  I look down at myself. “What?” I shaved and trimmed, so I hope he’s not making a comment about my personal hygiene.

  He’s shaking his head slowly. “You are . . . incredible.” He reaches down to squeeze his crotch. He’s growing hard and it’s getting uncomfortable. Or he just needs to touch himself because I’m turning him on. Either way, it makes me feel like the champion of sex, and I like that a lot.

  I gesture at his jeans and shirt. “Well? Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  He grins dangerously and starts pulling his clothes off. He goes slower than I did. My breath stops for a few moments as I take in the physique that’s slowly being revealed. He must spend a lot of time at the gym. Every single muscle in his body is sculpted and visible.

  “Look what you’ve been hiding under all those clothes,” I say breathlessly.

  “What? You like this?” He actually flexes for me.

  I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle the giggle that erupts. “Yes. Do it again.”

  He presses his hands together near his waist, causing his chest muscles to flex.

  I reach over to touch one of his pecs, and he makes it bounce all of a sudden. It scares me enough that I jerk my hand back and shriek with laughter.

  “You like that?” He makes his left pec bounce and then his right, then his left and right. They’re dancing in front of me. It’s hilarious and gross and sexy, all rolled into one.

  I throw my hands over my eyes. “Stop. That is so silly.”

  “How about this?” he asks.

  I move my hand away from one eye and open it. He’s got one arm shooting up diagonally to the sky and the other one doing a bicep curl. He stares up at his straight arm like he’s Superman and says, “Fi-yah pow-ah!”

  I really start laughing then. I can’t get control of myself. Firepower, indeed. “You have to stop . . . you’re killing me . . .” I had no idea Greg was so funny. And sexy. His body is incredible. It’s intoxicating.

  He drops his arms to his sides. “You’re supposed to be getting turned on by this pose-down, not thrown into hysterics.”

  The look on his face is priceless—totally dejected man-boy. I snort, I’m laughing so hard.

  He comes storming over, pretending to be mad, and throws his arms around my waist. He lifts me up and throws me onto the bed. I shriek with laughter as I bounce up and send pillows flying. He leaps toward me, wearing only his boxer shorts. He lands right next to me and then closes the space between us by pulling me toward him. Our legs and arms tangle together, and I no longer feel the cold temperature in the room. I love having his soft body hair against and tickling my skin.

  He kisses me and then presses his lips along my neck as he slowly works his way down to my collarbone. “I’m an idiot,” he says. “I left my protection downstairs.”

  “I have some in that drawer over there,” I say, pointing to the bedside table. My sisters were kind enough to fill it up for me, but I’m not going to tell him that.

  “Good.” He makes his way down to my breasts, and I arch my body against his lips, wanting more of what he’s giving me. His hands roam and slide to my thigh. We’re both getting hotter and hotter, a sense of urgency taking over. “You smell so good,” he says. “Like flowers.”

  “It’s my perfume,” I say, my eyes closed so I can feel every sensation he’s creating.

  “No, it’s just you. It’s your skin, your natural scent. You remind me of spring. Everything new and fresh and beautiful . . . the promise of sun and warmth . . .” He runs his tongue across my chest and then moves over to my breast to make lazy circles around my nipples.

  I moan in response, my hand dragging up his back to his head. I grip his hair, loving the feeling of him being there, his head moving as he sets me ablaze with heat and emotion. It’s not going to take me very long to reach orgasm. He’s already got me halfway there with this simple foreplay.

  “What can I do for you?” I ask, wanting to please him like he’s pleasing me.

  He lifts his head and sits up quickly to remove his boxers and put a condom on. “You can stay right there and let me have my way with you,” he says as he works the protection down over his erection.

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I position myself in the middle of the mattress, watching his muscular back as he moves his arms. He’s even gorgeous fr
om behind. He finishes his task and comes back to me. We draw together again, his warm body sparking me up again right away.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.

  “I’m sure. What about you? No regrets?”

  He shakes his head. “No regrets.” He positions himself above me and slowly enters me. It sends a shock through me as we become one, our bodies melding together. I slide my hands down his back to his rear end, helping guide him. It feels so incredible. We fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. I’m so glad we decided to jump into the deep end together.

  “Does it feel good for you?” he whispers right next to my ear, moving in and out, setting a slow but deliberate pace.

  “Perfect,” I say, practically purring.

  Moments later he speaks softly in my ear again. “I’m going to have a hard time holding back,” he says, moving faster. His breath is coming more rapidly, his muscles tensing all over. I love the feel of him under my hands and over my legs.

  I meet his pace, my hips moving naturally with his rhythm. “You don’t need to hold back for me. I’m already so close.” I’m not just saying that to stroke his ego. I can feel my orgasm coming already, building to the point of no return. It’s been so long for me, and I’ve been thinking about him day and night for weeks now. And even though I’ve pictured this in my mind many times, it was never as good as this reality.

  Sweat drips down from his chest onto mine and our stomachs slide together with the salty wetness we’ve created. The heat builds inside me and I hear myself whimpering, preparing for the emotional and physical sensations that are looming.

  “Come for me, baby,” he growls in my ear. He sounds dangerous, someone to be obeyed.

  I can’t hold back any longer. I hang on to him as I start crying out in ecstasy. He joins me, panting, thrusting faster and harder, his body a wall of solid muscle.

  “Greg,” I cry, holding on to him for dear life. Is it really him? Are we really here together? Doing this? Feeling this? How can this be real?

  “Rose . . . babe . . . ,” he answers, arching his back then jerking in seizures as he finishes.

  I cry out as waves of an orgasm crash into me with every thrust. I ride higher and higher and then, slowly, fall to the depths when it’s over. My vision fades to black for a few seconds before my brain comes back online.

  For a few moments we lie in one another’s arms, covered in sweat. Our hearts are beating loud like thunder. I can hardly breathe. My abdominal muscles ache from the workout they just got.

  “Thank you,” he says, kissing me gently on the cheek.

  I have to smile at that. “No, thank you.”

  He drops off to the side and looks at me, smoothing sweaty hair away from my face. “I was pretty incredible,” he says, lifting his eyebrows at me a couple times.

  I smile up at him, emotions flooding my heart as I take in his rugged face and adorable smile. “You were. I agree. And so was I.”

  “You’re damn right you were,” he says, leaning in for a slow kiss.

  “You think we’ll try this again sometime? Take another risk?” he asks. He attempts to hide his vulnerability behind a teasing grin, but I see it hiding there.

  I nod, reaching up to stroke his sculpted cheek with my finger. “It would be criminal for us not to, really.”

  His grin is slow but so beautiful. He leans down and kisses me on the end of the nose. “I think we’d better get dressed and go downstairs before your moms get home.”

  I nod and pull away, sliding over to the edge of the bed. I’m ready to stand, but suddenly he grabs me from behind and pulls me back. I look up at him in surprise.

  He grins devilishly down at me. “Ooor . . . maybe we’ve got time for one more round before they get here?”

  I can’t stop smiling as I snake my arms around his neck and bring him down to my mouth. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  We’re just putting on our clothing when the doorbell rings downstairs. The only people who ever ring our bell are strangers who pull off the road to buy our products. I rush to pull my shirt over my head and run a brush through my hair. “I’ll go see who it is,” I say to Greg, who’s putting on his jeans. “Take your time.”

  “I’ll be down in just a minute,” he says. “I need to clean up around here first.” He grabs the garbage on the side table and wraps it in a tissue.

  I leave him to it and dash down the stairs. Banana is waiting patiently at the front door with his tail wagging. At least I know it’s not Smitty out there, which is a relief, because it would be weird for him to maybe find out I was just being intimate with Greg after turning him down so recently. I wonder where Amber and Ty are, though. Banana was supposed to be with them. He could have broken off their walk and used the doggie door, I suppose.

  I open the door and smile at the woman standing on the doorstep. She’s wearing a very fancy and expensive-looking trench coat, heels, and black stockings. She’s absolutely beautiful, and she reminds me of how Amber looks when she’s staying in Manhattan. I stand there with my mouth open, staring.

  She gives me a tight smile. “Hello? I assume this is Glenhollow Farms?” She points down the drive toward the main road. “I saw a sign.”

  “Oh! Yes, of course. Yes. You’re in the right place.” Great sex kills brain cells, I guess. That’s a bummer. Does it mean I’ll stop sleeping with Greg? Definitely not. Hopefully, I won’t be completely brain-dead by the time this affair is over. I pull the door open enough for her to come inside. “Please. Come in out of the cold. Have a seat.”

  “Thanks,” she says, stepping inside. She stands just inside the entrance as I shut the door. She’s looking around as she slips her satchel from her shoulder and sets it down on a nearby chair.

  I step back to give her some space, and smile. “Are you interested in purchasing some honey, by any chance?”

  She gives me a funny look. “That would be . . . nice, I guess.”

  Her answer seems a little stiff, so I don’t go right into the kitchen to get it. “Maybe you’re looking for some preserves? We have jams and jellies; you can take your pick.”

  Her smile is pained. “That would be nice also.”

  “Maple syrup?” Surely she came here for something. I feel like I’m forcing the jam and honey on her. We have advertisements for several products out by the road. I wish she would just tell me which one she wants.

  “Sure. Why not.” She throws her hands up. “Get me one of those, too.”

  “Which flavor of jam do you prefer? And how much do you want?”

  She reaches into her shoulder bag and starts hunting around inside it. “I don’t know. Surprise me.”

  “Okay.” I walk into the kitchen, headed to the pantry without another word. I’ve sold our products to tons of people out here on the farm and probably thousands at the market over the years, but this has to rank up there as one of the strangest customer experiences I’ve had. I pull out one of our bags, made of recyclable material, of course, and put in a jar of our strawberry jam—the most popular flavor and one of my personal favorites—a small bottle of maple syrup, and a small jar of honey. If she wants to upgrade to larger sizes, I’ll let her tell me. She’s kind of an odd customer, and I don’t want her accusing me of trying to charge her too much. I throw in one of our business cards and a free sample of our lavender oil for good measure. You never can tell who your next number-one customer will be, so we always put our best foot forward. As I’m headed out of the kitchen, I hear voices in the dining room. Somebody must’ve come home.

  I walk through the door and find Greg standing in front of the woman with a very angry look on his face. I stop just outside the kitchen door, holding the bag in one hand and supporting it underneath with the other. “What’s going on?”

  The woman is holding her satchel against her, almost like a shield against his verbal attack. I look from her to Greg and can’t figure out what I’m seeing. She seems
worried at first, but then when she sees me, her expression morphs into something else. Satisfied, maybe?

  Greg looks pissed. All I can think is that he really shouldn’t be treating our customers that way. “I see you’ve met Veronica,” he says, before I can intervene.

  My jaw falls open, and I almost drop the bag. I catch it before I completely lose my grip. “Heh, heh . . . not officially.”

  She lowers her satchel to her side and walks over to me, holding her hand out. She looks very lawyerly now. “Nice to meet you.”

  I shift the bag of products to my left arm so I can free myself up to do the handshake thing. “I’m Rose.”

  She backs up and looks me up and down. She’s not even trying to be cool about it. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  I’m at a loss. I look to Greg, silently asking him to take over.

  “Veronica was just telling me why she came all the way out here without calling me first.” He’s offering me an explanation and also telling me he’s not happy that she’s taken it upon herself to do this.

  Now the picture is starting to come together for me. This woman is looking at me with a very competitive expression on her face. It’s like she knows Greg and I have been intimate, but she’s staking her claim anyway. She’s come out here to pee on her territory and to let me know that she’s not giving up on him so easily. I wonder if Greg knows how sneaky she is. Or how determined. I guess he does now. Surely he doesn’t believe that she’s here for work purposes any more than I do.

  “You said this case was really important to you, so I thought you’d want an update and to see all the data I’ve put together.” She opens her satchel, pulling out a thick file. She hands it to him and smiles. “I knew you were still upset about Tinkerbell, and I wanted to help you out as much as I could.”

  I walk over slowly and place the bag of items on the dining room table. I feel ten kinds of foolish having brought these products out to her. She didn’t come here to buy anything from us; she came here to take Greg back to where he belongs.

  “I don’t need to see this right now.” He drops it on the table. “Do you have anything else for me? Anything urgent?”