Rosie didn’t look surprised to see me. But she did gasp when I cupped both her cheeks, stepped into her house, and kissed the shit out of her without warning.
The kiss wasn’t just rough; it was downright brutal. It lacked affection in the same way it leaked desperation.
I was helpless.
Careless.
Ruined.
And not by the sister I was expected to love.
She gasped for air. I gasped for her. Our tongues swirled together, engaged, enamored, under a spell of black magic.
I held her by the back of her neck. Maybe too hard. How did I not know my body could respond to another person like this? Every nerve ending in my body was on fire. Her knees failed. She collapsed, but held onto my shirt at the very last minute, somehow holding herself together physically. Mentally, though…we were both in too deep.
Mentally, we were fucked.
It hadn’t even registered to me that she returned the kiss for a long, intoxicating minute before she pulled away, her eyes widening in shock and fear. She laced her fingers through the sides of her head and pulled at her roots, her beautiful, puffy lips falling open.
“Oh, my God.” She sucked in a breath. I felt her in that kiss, and the things she’d given me…she could never take them back. They were mine, and I was going to take the rest of her, even if it wasn’t that day. Even if it would take a fucking lifetime.
If she has a lifetime, asshole.
“Holy shit,” she croaked again. “What have I done? Get out!”
“Rosie…”
“Get. The. Hell. Out, Dean. Seriously, if you come here again…”
“You bet your ass I am,” I said firmly. “I’m going after you even if it takes me years to have you.”
“You won’t.” There was something in her voice, or maybe it was the way she pushed me away, that made it all very final. “I will make sure of it, one way or the other. You’re dead to me, Cole. Dead from the moment you put your hands on my sister. There won’t be a tomorrow for us. There won’t be a Bronze Horseman. And next time we see each other, Dean, we’re going to act like we don’t know one another. Because we don’t. You are nothing to me. Never were. Come here again, and I’m telling Daddy to pull out the shotgun.”
She slammed the door in my face.
And for the first time, she didn’t peek through the window to steal another moment with me.
Present
I loved watching Rosie dance.
She was so terrible at it, you couldn’t help but laugh. But she didn’t care. The girl didn’t fucking care, and that was what I loved about her the most. Her ability to sing out of tune and dance like no one was watching, when all eyes were on her as she struck a pose, a la Madonna, while jumping up and down like her feet were on fire.
She spun in place on the dance floor and found me, our eyes connecting. I was leaning against the bar, sipping bottled water, as promised, saluting the bottle in her direction.
Vicious was grinding against Emilia.
Jaime was outside on the phone with Trent.
Sydney, Gladys, and that chick who worked with Rosie were dancing with each other.
And again, she and I were left to our own devices.
Nina had been calling and texting nonstop, despite my ignoring her, and Trent was going through hell, but somehow, I still felt that natural high that slammed into me every time I hung out with Baby LeBlanc.
Rosie looked down to her phone and stabbed her thumbs on the screen, typing a text message. It threw my heart into fourth gear, and I clutched my phone beside my body, waiting for the ping that felt like a bang.
Rosie
I think I’m going to take someone to my hotel room tonight. Had a rough day and need to unwind.
Dean
Is that an invitation?
Rosie
More like a jab. You know what the hardest part was when you and Millie were together? Hearing you make out. It used to kill me. That’s why at some point I stopped being home when you were around.
My head shot up, and there she was, swaying her hips, a random guy hugging her waist from behind and grinning into her neck as he matched her tempo. Her eyes were on me, and she had that expression. The ‘what-the-fuck-are-you-going-to-do-about-it-huh?’ look. I was going to wipe it off of her face.
Here I was, watching someone else touching her, every inch of my body raw with violent rage. The one I hadn’t felt all those years ago when Millie left. Oh, it was inside me, all right. It was just waiting to be ignited by someone else entirely.
I’m going to end this shithead.
I looked down and typed.
Dean
Don’t test me, LeBlanc. We’re not teenagers anymore. Our actions have consequences.
Rosie
And…?
Dean
And with the actions I have in mind, I’m looking at ten to fifteen years in a cage. Cut that shit before he gets hurt.
I felt my pulse in my eyelids. My spine. My fucking balls. It was everywhere, because my heart was jackhammering like it wanted to jump out of my ribcage and into her hands. It felt like snorting two lines of brown-brown, the gunpowder rushing through my system.
For the first time in a very long time, I cared.
Breaking them up and causing a scene crossed my mind, but I wasn’t that person. I was the chilled, asshole motherfucker who smiled at the world, even when it threw shit at him. And Rosie threw shit at me because I deserved it. Because I did kiss her sister when she was in the same house. Because I didn’t stop it from happening. Because it was payback, and she wanted to take it far. I was going to let her explore the distance, even if it hurt me—but the line was going to be drawn at kissing. She was fucking mine. He could look, but hell if he tried to touch.
The guy spun Rosie around and they danced together, but she kept an appropriate gap from him, probably knowing he wasn’t going to appreciate a trip to the ER. Dude was okay-looking, I suppose. Mid-height and young—about Rosie’s age, casually dressed. Nothing to write home about.
He yelled something into her ear over the music, and I felt my nostrils widening like a mad bull. She motioned for him with her fingers to wait a minute, looked down, and typed a message.
Rosie
How does it feel?
It felt like death. But that fire in her eyes looked fresh. Too fresh to only be about me. There were other things occupying Rosie’s mind. Family-related things. I knew that, and this time…this time I was going to be the punching bag. Fuck, how I wanted to feel her little fists all over my body.
Dean
Point made. Now stop it.
She didn’t answer.
And she didn’t fucking stop it.
My eyes traveled up and the fuckwit took her hand, leading her to the back door of the club. I looked around. All of our friends were still busy dancing, drinking, and generally not giving two shits. My plan to corner Rosie backfired in my face in spectacular fashion.
Because Rosie wasn’t Millie. Rosie couldn’t be cornered.