Chapter 2

Rose

“Absolutely not.” I lie. I want to get lost in his embrace, yes. Just not while everyone is watching.

“You don’t know how to dance.” It’s not even a question. “It’s okay darling, it doesn’t matter. We’re not competing in ‘Strictly Come Dancing.’ I’m only going to move your body wherever I want while you’re going to look pretty and let me do it.”

I’m already shaking my head. “I don’t want to dance.” Is it me or is what he’s describing sounding like something else?

“Rose Marsh. You know you can tell me what you really want,” he says with a playful smile, though there’s an undertone of something else. Something dark and provocative, and so hard to resist.

I shrug, hoping to play it off as unaffected by him. “Fine, I’ll tell you what I want. Just as soon as you start showing me more than one type of emotion.”

Shit. Where did that come from?

“Meaning?”

I might as well forge on since I’ve put my foot in it. “Meaning more than your standard cold-eyes-warm-smile, Ryan.”

He pauses, looking at me in consternation. As if he’s just seeing me for the first time.

“Come with me.” Suddenly, he stands and takes my arm, urging me out of my seat. As soon as I’m up, his hand spans the small of my back, and he turns us away from the tables.

“Whoa” Okay. Was it what I said?

“Come on, let’s go,” he starts leading me to the middle of the room.

I knew he was strong, but that took no effort from him. He’s doing it so smoothly I doubt anyone can tell he’s practically manhandling me.

Just like he did the day Xavier was going to confess his love to a pregnant Brooke and I wasn’t buying it. Ryan had carried me from the room like a sack of potatoes.

And I absolutely hated how much I loved it.

“Where do you think you’re dragging me off to now?” I ask, although I can tell because he’s already signaling to the band. Oh crap, he’s going to make me dance. A flutter of excitement begins low in my belly.

“Here, the dance floor.” Ryan murmurs. “I imagine the only way we can talk and not argue is if we’re choreographed. There now, smile; people are watching.” He pulls me into his arms, holding me tight against him as though I might bolt.

“Relax,” he whispers against my ear. “I won’t bite you. Not here anyway.”

I try to ignore how his words are making my belly flutter worse. “I have a date, you know. And I’m pretty sure he can see us.”

“Greg will be alright. I already told him I needed to do this.” Ryan starts to move slowly taking me with him.

“What? You told him you needed to dance with me?” I can’t believe the man’s nerve. What’s more annoying is that I know Greg probably gave Ryan his blessing too. Too bad I can’t play it off like Greg and I are a thing.

“To hug you, yes. You’ve been amazing the last couple of months. You’ve surprised me, actually. We hardly saw each other while planning this, yet we pulled it off. And it’s mostly because of you.”

Refusing to let his sweet words dissolve my irritation, I tilt my head back in defiance. “Really? You were surprised? What, you didn’t think I was capable of anything besides looking pretty?”

Again, he gives me that brief look. I wonder if it’s annoyance, but I can’t be sure since he’s still smirking and never makes eye contact for longer than two seconds.

“No, Rose, you surprised me because despite all the times you scoffed and rolled your eyes while planning this incredibly romantic event, you’ve done a phenomenal job. Take the decor you designed, for instance.” He gestures toward the exquisite arrangement of fresh flowers on the now-empty couple’s seat. “It’s breathtaking.”

“Breathtaking! Wow, we’re showering each other with compliments today, Ryan. Do you want something?”

Again, that look. “Now that you mention it, yes. I do. I always have. And it’s the same thing you’ve wanted since the day we met.”

“Oh, so now you’re psychic. Well, I’m not, so I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retort, though deep down, I know exactly what he means. Ryan and I have been walking a tightrope of intense sexual tension for months now.

He fits my type perfectly: a charming playboy with a trail of broken hearts behind him. In theory, I should indulge in what he so generously offers, but something about Ryan keeps me from giving in to the temptation.

“You do Rose. Actually, it’s interesting how very similar we are. Ask me. I’ll say yes.”

“You’ll say yes to anything?” I tilt back my head to look at him.

He pulls me closer. “Because I already know what you’ll ask for. Just try it.”

He’s daring me. Pushing me. His hand moves from my waist to my naked back, his thumb subtly tracing a pattern on my skin. Like an ever-expanding ripple, the tingles spread wider until my body is awash in sensation.

Would it really be so terrible if I did something as clichéd as joining the long line of women that have slept with this playboy? After all, there’s no unwritten rule against crossing that line when our best friends are married, is there?

A reckless part of me argues that it might actually do me some good. Perhaps it would quiet my overactive imagination when I find that Ryan is all bark and no bite in the sack.

With my decision made, I lift my arms and wrap them around his neck, relishing the sensation of his warm skin and the silky strands of hair slipping through my fingers. His cotton-covered chest feels solid against my cheek as the scent of musk and pine envelops me.

He bends toward my ear and gruffly commands, “Ask me, Rose. Now.”

I take a breath as though bracing to take the plunge into icy water. Then I close my eyes and jump. “Okay. Fine. I’d like you to fuck me. Tonight.”

He lowers his head further and grazes his lips on my exposed shoulder, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Done. Room 1320. One hour.”

Heat engulfs my face. How unoriginal. Total fuckboy vibes. Talk about a forgone conclusion.

Well, you made your bed, you better lie in it.

“Don’t be late.” He steps back and bows with a flair. I roll my eyes, knowing he did that just to irritate me.

Ryan sometimes talks and acts like he’s a hundred years old. “Back to the twenty-first century, Romeo. You’re already making me regret this. I bet you’ll have a gramophone playing in the background.”

He chuckles wryly. “Well, you’ll have to show up to find out, darling.”

He saunters away, clapping Greg on the shoulders as he comes to take his place on the dance floor.

“Interesting guy, that Ryan.” He turns back to watch Ryan’s retreating back.

“You could say that again,” I respond.

“Do you guys have an open relationship or something?”

“A what?” I ask, unsure if I heard him right.

Greg only shrugs, “He says you’re his ‘person.’”

“What the hell does that mean? I’m not his ‘anything.’” I huff.

“Maybe you should ask him because he made it sound like you belong to him.”

I shudder in mock revulsion. “Oh, I plan to.” He’ll be explaining what he means by that later tonight. In precisely one hour.

When you meet him in his pre-approved den of sin.

I ignore the snarky voice in my head and the annoying fluttering in my belly, and tell myself I’m only going to do this once. Just enough to get him out of my system for good.