Chapter 33
thirty-three
DARE
Rose has never looked more beautiful than she does now, dead asleep in the bed after another round of me reminding her what it means to be mine. We’ve been on the island for three days, and I’m sore enough to know she must be too. Today, we can finally go to the beach, but she’s sleeping so soundly, I won’t wake her.
There’s plenty of time left in the day.
I move a lock of hair that’s covering her face and tuck it behind her ear, a strange sensation pressing on my chest when she sighs and smiles in her sleep. The two of us have come so far since that day at Frank’s Bakery. She was the enemy, but somehow, this woman has found a home in my heart, and I’ll hurt anyone who tries to take her away from me.
Her dad might be the only person who could, and that’s another layer of complication I don’t want to dwell on. Not today .
Today, I just want it to be about us.
Rose snuggles against her pillow, and I consider pulling her on top of me instead, but even I recognize that hating a pillow for giving her comfort is a little extreme. I study her again, memorizing this moment, and quietly slip out of the bedroom.
After placing an order for food, I wander out to the patio and down the stairs that lead to the beach, mug of coffee in hand. I breathe in the fresh and salty air as the humidity coils around me, dampening my skin after a few minutes in the sun. Clouds linger on the horizon. We’ve been lucky without rain so far, and while I’d be more than happy to keep Rose locked up for the duration of our stay, she wants to get in the water.
Movement to my left catches my gaze. I turn and sip on my coffee, eyeing the couple coming around the bend, holding hands and smiling like they have some big secret. I blink, squint, then huff in annoyance when I recognize the man.
Great. It’s Crue. Never should’ve told the asshole about this island.
“No fucking way. Is that Darian Richardson?” he shouts, obnoxious as always.
I cross my arms and shake my head as he releases his companion’s hand and jogs over. My attention strays to the woman, who looks far too interested in me as she approaches.
“Who’s that?” I say, voice low.
Crue’s eyes widen when he realizes there will be introductions. “Lottie? Lauren? Shit, I forgot.”
“Of course, you did,” I mutter to him right before Lottie-Lauren hooks her arm through his like a vulture staking its claim .
“Crue, baby.” Her whiney voice scratches down my back, nails on a chalkboard. “You left me.”
“Don’t call me baby,” Crue tells her, wearing a smile to soften the blow.
Grimacing, I look away from the train wreck that is Crue’s love life, if you could even call it that. Crue’s attention span is notoriously short. I’ve lost count of how many Lottie-Laurens there’ve been.
“What do you want me to call you?” Lottie-Lauren asks, aiming for a seductive voice that edges a little too hard toward toddler.
“How long are you on the island?” Crue asks me.
“Three more days. You?”
“Depends on the weather,” Crue says with a shrug. Meaning, as soon as Lottie-Lauren gets on his nerves, he’ll leave. Fucker will probably send her home on her own.
“Dare?”
That silky smooth voice I’ve come to know so well strokes down my spine. Crue’s eyes spark with interest as they land on my wife. Growling, I give Crue a warning glare before turning to watch Rose make her way across the sand. The little pink bikini I packed hardly covers her. All her curves are on display. Her soft stomach, full hips, thick thighs that jiggle with each step. And those tits.
Fuck me.
“Well, fuck me,” Crue echoes my thoughts. “Who’s this pretty angel?”
Lottie-Lauren squeaks in protest.
I glance back at Crue, noting that his eyes are all over Rose. Would it be wrong to gouge them out? “Don’t even think about it.”
Lottie-Lauren is pouting her lip and scowling at Rose like she’s the enemy .
Shaking my head, I leave the unhappy couple and meet Rose, pulling her into my arms and kissing her until she giggles and shoves at my chest. Her cheeks are bright pink, and she glances around me, taking in our audience.
“Are you going to introduce me?”
I pinch my eyebrows together. “Do I have to?”
She pulls a face and looks at me. “You don’t like them?”
“Crue is fine. His date, I’m not so sure about. But Crue is a player, and I don’t want him anywhere near you.”
Her features smooth until all that’s left is a smug little smirk. “Dare Richardson, you are so jealous.”
“I am.” No point in denying it. “And if he so much as looks at your tits again, I’m going to punch him.”
Rose bites her lip to stifle her chuckle.
“Who’s your friend?” Crue calls just to taunt me. His head would’ve had to be stuck in the sand to not hear about my marriage to Rose. Crue is irresponsible, but the guy loves gossip.
Stiffening, I take a breath and turn around, dropping my arm around Rose’s shoulder and tucking her against my side. “Crue, meet Rose, my wife.”
“Rose?” Lottie-Lauren narrows her eyes and gives Rose another once-over. “Oh my GOD. You’re Rosalynn Miller? Didn’t you open, like, an art studio?” The woman wrinkles her nose as she judges Rose’s latest project.
Rose stiffens, and there’s a slight change in her smile. Lottie-Lauren won’t recognize it, but there are shields and walls between her and the woman at my side.
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Tara Scott,” the woman says, grinning like she expects us to recognize the name.
Rose and I exchange a look. She arches an eyebrow and I shrug. Nodding, Rose looks at Tara. “Hm. I don’t remember ever hearing your name.” Rose titters in that savage way high-society women do, but this time, it doesn’t annoy me. Tara shouldn’t have insulted Futurum. “Regardless, it’s so lovely to meet you.”
The woman’s face falls, but Crue shoves his hand at Rose before Tara can respond. “Lovely to meet you,” he purrs.
When Rose reaches for his hand, I smack Crue’s arm and he recoils with a chuckle.
“Oh, okay. I see how it is.” Crue studies Rose with renewed interest. “You’re his wife .”
“Mmm, I guess I am.” Rose runs her hand down my stomach, stopping at the band of my shorts. “Who are you?”
I never thought someone insulting Crue would get me hard, but as Rose bruises his ego, my dick stiffens.
Crue flips his hair off his forehead in annoyance. “I’m Crue Rollins. You might’ve heard of me?”
Rose makes a show of humming. “I’m sorry.” Her smile is sweet, but I know she’s fucking with him. “I don’t think I have.”
Crue narrows his eyes at her. “Bluestar Entertainment? The biggest entertainment conglomerate in the US?”
“And he’s like, really rich,” Tara adds.
“Hm. No,” Rose murmurs. “Sorry, I’ve never heard of you.” She glances at me and bats her eyelashes.
It’s a fight to keep from laughing.
I swear Crue has an aneurysm, because he’s so used to women throwing themselves at him, and I’m half ready to toss Rose over my shoulder and take her inside, so I can show her how much I appreciate her. Nothing puts Crue in his place quite like a woman who doesn’t give a fuck how much money he has.
The corners of Rose’s lips twitch as she suppresses a laugh, but Crue catches it, his eyes flashing with annoyance when he realizes she’s fucking with him.
“Oh, that’s messed up,” he says, turning on me. “She’s perfect for you.”
“I know,” I tell him, eyeing Tara. “Enjoy your trip.”
“Do you guys want to hang out later?” he asks, hints of desperation in his tone.
“Nope.” I squeeze Rose’s shoulder and turn us toward the house.
“Oh, come on, Dare. Don’t be boring, let’s party!”
“No,” I call over my shoulder.
“Dare!” he shouts, but I refuse to rescue him this time. Crue is a big boy. He can send Tara packing if he’s tired of her. It was stupid of him to bring her here in the first place.
“Maybe we should take pity on him,” Rose says.
I glance at her and raise my eyebrows. “Hell, no. He’ll be clinging if he thinks we’ll help him get rid of Tara.”
“So, she’s not his girlfriend?” Rose asks.
Chivalry and a burning desire to see that ass swaying in front of my face have me releasing Rose so she can head up the stairs first. “Crue doesn’t have girlfriends.”
Rose starts up the steps, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from reaching for her ass and squeezing it. So fucking round and juicy, that little strap of material covering her crack and barely anything else. I can see every perfect shake, which reminds me of the way her body trembles when I pound into her.
“Hmm. Sounds like someone I know.” She turns at the top of the stairs and catches my eyes on her ass. “Like what you see? ”
“You know I do,” I tell her, crowding her once I ascend. My hand finds its way around her throat, and she instantly softens in my arms. God, I love that. “I’m going to burn that swimsuit.”
Rose scrunches her face. “I thought you liked it.”
“Oh, I do, but I guarantee Crue did too, and the only reason I’m not going down to kick his ass for checking you out is because I already have you all to myself.” I flex my fingers and she inhales, lips parting.
“I should probably worry about how possessive you are,” she confesses, eyes flicking between mine. “But I think I like it.”
Grinning, I trace my lips over hers. “I think I like that you like it.”
She slips her tongue along the seam of my mouth. We stay like that, kissing and teasing each other, until someone clears their throat.
Stealing Rose’s attention from me.
“What?” My glare is overly harsh as it flies to the staff person holding a tray of food.
His gaze is on Rose, and my lips curls as I bare my teeth. That motherfucker better find something else to look at. Rose squeezes my forearm and I release her neck. Her fingers slip through mine as she does damage control, thanking the staff and giving them a generous tip and extra to apologize for my attitude.
Once the staff leaves, Rose levels me with a look. “Don’t be rude to the employees. They’re only doing their job.”
“He was looking at you.”
“You can’t threaten everyone who checks me out,” she warns.
“I can try.”
She rolls her eyes and tugs me to the table on the patio. She pushes me into a seat before climbing into my lap. Her nails dig into my hair, tugging on it and tipping my head until I’m forced to meet her gaze. Those rich hazel irises stare at me in earnest. “You have to know by now that no one else matters.”
“Is that so?”
She pulls my hair. “Yes, you asshole. I lov—” She cuts off and looks away. Lines wrinkle her forehead.
I feel the loss of the words she refused to say in my chest, like someone reached between my ribs and ripped my heart out. It’s been easy to forget the layers of complication between us. Rose pulls away from the moment, eyes distant.
Is she thinking about her dad and what she owes him?
She’s still digging through Vista Holding files every day like a good little puppet. I hoped time would show her that I have nothing to hide. But will she ever believe it?
Will she ever trust me the way she blindly trusts her father?
I shove down the rush of white-hot anger. “What were you going to say, Rose?”
Come on. Don’t let him win again. Give me the words.
“I love the way you make me feel,” she says in recovery. When she looks at me again, her eyes are guarded.
She’s lying. That’s not what she meant. But she’s not willing to admit the truth. And there’s one person to blame for that. The hole in my chest grows until there’s a yawning void.
Clenching my jaw, I hold her gaze until she diverts her attention again. It would be cruel to call her on the lie, and we’re having too much fun together. For one fucking week, I didn’t want to think about Joseph Miller. I wanted Rose to myself. Pushing her to tell me what she’s not ready to admit will rob me of the chance.
But part of me can’t help wondering if she’ll ever let herself love me after years of being told I’m a monster.