Run Rosie Run (23 page)

God she loved him so very much.

Fear tickled her gut.

Too much?

‘Stop thinking. I can hear the wheels turning,’ he growled low in his throat.

He was still inside her physically and he appeared to be inside her mind as well.

She’d never shared such an intimate moment with another.

It felt so right.

Her eyes opened to find his staring at her with something like awe.

She spoke from the heart,

‘I’ve never felt, experienced, anything like that.’

He smiled, but his eyes were watchful on hers.

‘Are you scared?’

The truth pierced her heart.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Me too.’

He was?

The thought that Alexander might care enough for her to be hurt caught the breath in her throat.

She raised a hand to his face, traced her fingers over his eyebrow, his slashing cheekbone, that stubborn jaw before threading her fingers through his hair.

All the time those emerald eyes never left hers.

‘You have a fabulous face,’ she said making him grin.

‘You said I was pretty.’

She wrinkled her nose, bit her bottom lip.

Her eyes went wide as she admitted,

‘I’m not always a nice person. Sometimes a bitch takes control of my big mouth.’

He kissed her.

A whispered meeting of lips and she knew she was forgiven.

His lips murmured against hers,

‘I don’t wax.’

This time she tried too hard not to laugh and his kiss was harder.

A punishment.

Her fingertips caressed the fine silky hair over his pecs, whispered over a dark nipple and he went hard inside her.

She gave him slitty eyes.

‘I thought guys needed recovery time.’

His smile was wide, happy and relaxed and caught her heart.

She’d give anything to see that smile on his face again and again.

‘It’s never happened before.’

Very slowly he swivelled his hips and her breath caught in her throat.

‘No way will I come again,’ she told him.

‘Wanna bet?’

She blinked as he swelled and thickened inside her.

This time their lovemaking was so very slow and easy.

His mouth tasted hers between murmured words of endearment, even as his hands tenderly caressed her skin in a way that told her he cared, truly cared for her.

A feeling of contentment washed over and through her.

Would this be enough?

Perhaps.

‘Where did you go?’

Her eyes blinked into hers.

‘What?’

‘Just now, I lost you. Where did you go?’

‘I was wondering if this was enough for me.’

Those green eyes went dark as they held hers with an intensity that made it hard for her to swallow.

‘Will you give us a chance?’

‘Yes.’

This time his kiss was a slow dance of delight as Rosie surrendered a little piece of her heart into his keeping.

Together they slipped over the edge and as they lay together, neither noticed their hearts calm, beating as one.

‘You know, there’s one thing you’ve forgotten,’ Alexander said.

Rosie’s eyes met his across the breakfast bar as she used chopsticks to scoop noodles out of a box.

Wearing nothing but jeans, with the mussed up hair and shadowed jaw, Alexander Ludlow looked good enough to eat.

She picked up a paper napkin, wiped her fingers, her mouth.

‘What’s that?’

He topped up her wine, gave her big eyes and a Cheshire cat smile.

‘My sister. When are you gonna tell her?’

She pouted in a way that made him shake his head.

‘Couldn’t we keep this quiet for a few days?’

His eyes narrowed now.

‘You must explain to me sometime about this sudden need to keep secrets. Scared?’

‘Yes.’

‘She’ll be cool with it.’

Rosie took a breath and wondered why her chest felt tight.

Bronte would be cool with it, deep in her heart she knew that.

However, what she might not be too cool with was the fact her best friend had lusted after her brother for years and not told her.

‘Talk to me, angel face.’

How did he
do
that?

‘Stop reading my mind.’

‘It’s not hard. You have a very expressive face.’

‘This feels so weird. Doesn’t it feel weird to you?’

He topped his own glass and popped a prawn in his mouth as he thought about it.

‘On one level it feels absolutely right. On another level I’ll admit there’s a regret.’

Digging chopsticks into crispy prawns he didn’t notice her go stiff.

‘Regret?’

The way she said it shot his head up.

‘That I didn’t see what was right in front of me sooner. I’ll always regret that.’

Relief made her inhale a deep breath.

But she had to know. ‘Why did it take you so long?’

This time he rested his elbows on the breakfast bar and thought long and hard.

‘The last few years have been... difficult. I suppose I wasn’t ready.’ Those green eyes met hers. ‘I wasn’t in a good place, Rosie. You know that. My life fell apart and to be honest I’m not proud of the way I didn’t handle it. I still blame myself for what happened to Bronte.’

Now that made absolutely no sense whatsoever to her.

‘You’re being stupid. How are you responsible for her ex-fiancé or creepy Anthony?’

‘I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. I was selfish.’

Now she went to him, wrapped her arms around that wonderful body and pressed her cheek to his chest, felt the strong, steady beat of his heart.

‘You’re too hard on yourself. Do not take responsibility for the behaviour or the feelings of others. To go down that road is a recipe for disaster.’

His arms held her close as his cheek rested on her hair.

Then his hand cupped the back of her neck and he looked deep into her eyes.

She read a deep regret and something else she couldn’t identify.

‘Let me stay with you tonight. I want to wake with you in my arms.’

The shudder that ran through her was the curious feeling of a longed for dream coming true.

Why shouldn’t she experience the phenomenon of having Alexander in her bed?

But she also knew that by saying yes she would be giving him a commitment to their relationship.

Perhaps it was that snivelling coward that lived inside her who didn’t want anyone, even Bronte, to know.

If she said yes like a firestorm the word would roar around their small town that Rosie Gordon and Alexander Ludlow were an item.

Alexander was the reigning eligible bachelor.

The number of rumours about who he’d been seen with, who he was sleeping with, who he might marry had kept the gossips in Nirvana for years.

Rosie knew many eyebrows would be raised and some people may not wish them well or be kind.

And if it all went wrong how would she cope?

But then she remembered with a pang she was leaving.

So what did it matter?

At least she wouldn’t be living with eternal ‘what if’ or regret.

‘Okay.’

His kiss was soft and tender.

Then his forehead rested on hers.

‘There’s a brave girl.’

‘People will talk.’

He blinked.

‘That’s not the first time you’ve mentioned it. Why does what people think worry you so much?’ he sounded more than a little irritated with her.

When, Rosie wondered, would she learn to keep her big mouth shut.

‘It’s okay for you. You’re a Ludlow. No one is going to smirk or make catty remarks behind your back.’

Again he blinked.

‘Honey, anyone gives you any trouble you’d better tell me.’ His finger lifted her chin as those amazing eyes searched hers. ‘I mean it, Rosie.’

As if.

But she nodded anyway.

That seemed to satisfy him because his mouth met hers and Rosie wrapped her arms around his hard, strong body and decided to cling on and simply enjoy the ride while it lasted.

The beep of a cell phone alarm woke Alexander.

He’d had the best night of his life.

She’d been soft and giving and so loving it brought a lump to his throat.

Now Rosie was sprawled on her tummy, face buried in a pillow.

How could she possibly sleep like that?

Her arm stretched out, grabbed her cell phone and switched it off.

He pulled her into him and spooned his body around hers.

‘What time is it?’ he mumbled.

‘Five o’clock,’ came her muffled response.

‘Go back to sleep.’

‘I have ninety-eight rosebuds to make today.’

Her bare bottom pressed slick heat against his Love Muscle.

His cock was living up to its new name.

He couldn’t help but smile as he slid into her and she was so tight and hot and wet he groaned into her hair.

Would he ever get used to how her body held his?

Would he ever get used to the scent of her hair, warm aroused woman or the way her breath hitched, trembled, with every thrust of his pelvis?

She held his hands tight against her breasts as they slowly moved in unison in a gentle rhythm as old as time.

They took it gently and easy as he stroked her soft skin, nuzzled the marvellously tender flesh of her neck where her frantic pulse matched his own.

‘You don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby,’ he whispered into her ear.

Her response was a cry as her body fisted around his and he emptied himself into her.

He rolled her over and leaned over to gaze into those amazing eyes.

He kissed her.

‘Good morning.’

A trembling hand reached up and she stroked her fingers through his hair.

‘I look like a hag. And I’ve morning breath.’

He smiled.

‘You look beautiful and like a woman who’s been well loved.’

Now those eyes went wide and wicked.

‘I am well loved. Thank you.’

He kissed her.

‘You’re welcome.’

She held his face between her hands.

‘I need to get up, shower and make a start. I’m going to pop over to see Bronte this morning. She needs to hear it from me first.’

The anxiety in her eyes puzzled him because he knew how much his sister adored Rosie.

He couldn’t understand it.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’

She shook her head.

‘No. I need to do it in my own time and in my own way.’

As she strolled into the bathroom, he couldn’t take his eyes off the way her cute little ass swung from side to side.

When he heard the sound of the power shower he lay back, closed his eyes and gave a happy sigh of contentment.

Rosie was his.

He needed her as the centre to his life as his wife and the mother of his children.

Of course, it was too soon to tell her that.

But he’d talk her round, make her see sense.

Indulging in a happy day dream he didn’t see her watching him, wrapped in a towel, with a look of desperate longing on her face.

Alexander was a very patient man.

Very patient.

He’d managed to get his hands on Simon Lowther’s schedule. It hadn’t been without it’s difficulties of course. But when it came to the people he loved, he calmly and methodically chipped away at an issue until he resolved it to his personal satisfaction.

His head of security’s brother worked at a senior level in airport security and for the small sum of a rare bottle of thirty year old malt whisky, he’d received a copy of Simon’s schedule.

He’d almost thought twice about, technically, breaking the law. Probably plenty of laws. But when Rosie had run out crying, the memory made his chest ache. Crying! Tears killed him every time, just killed him. Well, that was it. Simon’s fate was sealed.

Now he checked his watch and hoped Simon had the balls to arrive on time.

The guy was a chancer all right.

When Alexander had phoned him this morning, Simon swore he’d never heard of Rosemary Gordon never mind slept with her.

He’d started to babble something about a ‘big mistake’ being made. But Alexander wasn’t having any of it. He wanted to look the guy in the eye when he answered his questions.

The knock at the door brought his PA, Julie, into the room.

‘I’ve a Simon Lowther to see you,’ she said.

He moved to sit behind his desk, checked his tie, rolled his tongue over his top teeth.

‘Send him in.’

‘Coffee?’

‘Sure.’

Alexander reckoned he was a civilised man, most of the time.

And he was honest enough to admit he was interested in the type of man a woman like Rosie went for.

Very interested.

Simon Lowther strolled into the room.

And the man was built.

Bronte’d been bang on about that.

He was almost as tall as himself, six foot four, but Simon was broader.

Yep, and a snappy dresser too.

And he was tanned and he was blonde.

Gotcha.

Jiggling his car keys, Simon raised his brows in a silent query, cheeky bastard.

‘Have a seat,’ Alexander said in a smooth tone.

Simon sat.

Julie entered, placed a tray of coffee on his desk and served them.

Simon took his coffee black, so did Alexander.

Julie left.

‘As I said on the telephone, Mr Ludlow, I don’t know anyone called Rosemary Gordon.’

His voice was deep, well educated and those calm grey eyes studied Alexander with interest and curiosity.

Alexander took a sip of coffee.

Cool bastard.

And he was a good liar.

‘No? Well, she knows you. Intimately.’

Now Simon’s smooth brow creased.

‘What does she look like?’

The man actually sounded perfectly reasonable.

For the first time Alexander’s intuition gave his belly a tickle.

‘Five three, curvy, big brown eyes - think Bambi - black glossy curls down to her waist.’

Simon had shook his head after the big brown eyes.

‘Nope. Never heard of her. Never seen her either.’