Chapter Eleven
Fin
We’reboth silent for a moment as we watch Ivy and Natasha leave.
‘I’d like to say they’re not always that... abstract,’ I say, cringing as Nat reaches the door, turning to give me a lurid sort of double thumbs up.
Nice, Nat. Subtle. Very discrete.
‘And all that snow talk doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with you.’
‘Okay.’ I think that was supposed to be an unconcerned tone, though I think it’s maybe more unconvinced. Whatever, his response makes me feel a little flat. ‘So, do I get a name?’
‘Don’t you have one of your own?’
‘A funny girl.’ His gaze briefly caresses my breasts, so subtle that had I not been paying absolute attention, I might not be convinced. ‘If we’re going to be friends, I’ll need to know what to call you.’
‘So we’re friends now?’
‘We can be whatever you want to be.’ How can he look both playful and serious as he says that? ‘It’s up to you.’
‘What if I want to remain anonymous?’ What I actually want right now is to be his hand as it rasps against the bristles on his jawline.
He seems to consider my request for a moment. ‘I gave you my name. I think it’s only fair you give me yours.’
‘A fair exchange?’ I repeat. ‘I’m not sure that’s reason enough.’
‘It’s the one we should leave it at,’ he says, hiding his smile behind his glass now.
‘Intriguing.’ I half laugh in response to his teasing tone. ‘You can’t stop there, leaving me guessing. You have to explain.’
‘Well, I can tell you.’ His gaze slips to my mouth, lingering there for a beat. It’s the kind of look that makes my heart trip and my skin tingle. ‘But,’ he continues sort of huskily, ‘I’m not sure you’ll like it.’
‘Hmm. I’ll take that risk. I’m all about risks tonight.’
He grins and I match it, even as I recognise my words could be taken in so many ways. Loosening his fingers from the rim of his glass, he leans forward, grasping the back of my stool. His mouth is suddenly so close to my ear that if I turned my head just a fraction, his lips would be against my skin. Pity I don’t have the nerve.
I hear the hitch in his breath before he answers.
‘I’d like to know your name so I know who’s responsible for making me come tonight.’
All the feels. All between my legs.
‘Did you miss the part where I said I'm not having sex with you?’ My tone sounds so sexual and so unlike me.
‘I did not,’ he says, no longer in kissing distance. ‘But you can’t stop me thinking of your gorgeous mouth when I take my cock in my hand.’
‘Wow.’ I suddenly find my hand at my neck clutching a set of invisible pearls. How could anyone resist imagining that visual? ‘That—that’s quite a mouth you have there.’
‘I may have heard that once or twice.’ His smile is part sexy, part sultry smirk.
Oh my God, he was smooth before, but he’s obviously had lots of practice since.
‘I—it’s Rose. My name.’ Well, it’s one of my names. Okay, half of one. But I refuse to feel guilty at this deception. Besides, I’m not really sure who I am anymore, so tonight I choose to be Rose.
‘American Rose with the English rose skin.’ As he says this, he reaches out, his finger skimming my cheek. ‘Are you sure we haven’t met?’
I shrug evasively, resisting the resultant shiver. ‘It’s Scottish Rose,’ I whisper a little hoarsely. ‘From my mom.’ Though I’ve always thought that if I were a flower, I’d probably be Scotland’s national spikey bloom, the thistle.
