CONNOR COBALT
A lot has changed since I was nineteen. And then again, things are always
the same. I have the girl, but not entirely. If it were that easy—that boring—
I wouldn’t still be here. Add Scott Van Wright into our lives, a threat on some serious level, and keeping Rose is going to be problematic.
But I’m going to put up one hell of a fucking fight.
He even rescheduled the “magical” party with the psychic, citing some bullshit about time, but really he wants to increase the production value of the entire reality show—I just haven’t figured out what he’s going to do in order to achieve that.
I rinse shampoo out of my wavy brown hair, the water blanketing me in warmth. I’ve never lived with another girl. Never shared a space with
someone else, not even at my boarding school.
What’s mine has always been mine.
Expensive perfumed soaps line the shower ledge. I share the bathroom with Rose. I share the bedroom. We’ve been at each other’s throats for so many years that becoming a team isn’t exactly set in the future for us.
We’re still, very much, rivals in bed.
I crank the heat, the steam gathering and beading my chest with water. I lower my hand, picturing Rose as I’ve never seen her. Undressed. Bare.
Wanting. She won’t let me in that far.
Not yet.
I place my hands on her bent knees, spreading her open quick and hard.
She chokes on a gasp, a pleasured scream locked tight in her chest.
“Please…” she cries.
In the shower, I stroke my cock that tenses with each rhythmic movement, hardening at the flashes of my fantasy. Her body bucking. The fullness of her breasts and hips underneath my strength. She attacks me with the same intensity, but I push her roughly back on the mattress. And her face lights with fire.
I dominate her and give her everything I know she’ll adore.
That’s the thing about being fucking smart—I understand her better than she understands herself.
My muscles pull tight, and I rub up and down my shaft, an involuntary sound escaping my mouth. I rest a hand on the tiled wall, quickening my movements. Fuck yes.
And just as I’m about to come, the bathroom door flies open.
I see her feminine shape through the misted glass, and she can see my form just as easily. A grin overtakes my features, and I watch her turn
towards the shower with her hands on her hips. I can practically feel her hot, unbridled anger steaming off her body.
Come to me.
She storms over to the shower and flings open the glass door. I don’t stop.
She stands there, eyes ablaze at the mere idea of me coming in our shower. But she stays quiet, not lowering her gaze to catch a glimpse of my erection or opening her mouth to chastise me. She has frozen in silent curiosity, and I gladly take advantage of it.
I watch her, skimming the nape of her neck that peeks from her black silk robe. Her chest rises and falls in deep, physical attraction. But she’s too unsure of herself to do something about it. So she stays rooted to the
bathroom rug, not even willing to look at my hand that moves with skilled efficiency. She doesn’t want to give me that satisfaction or that win.
I grip my cock tighter, a low groan in my throat. She inhales sharply.
I only grin more. Even though she’s confident, brazen and haughty, she’s none of these things when it comes to this. Sex. Fucking. Affection.
I may be patient, but I’m no longer going easy on her anymore, not with Scott Van Wright in contention. Before I moved in with Rose, I would have placated her. I would have stopped masturbating as soon as she opened the door.
Now, I’m not going to be so nice.
My eyes descend to the curve of her hips, visible with the silk that hugs her waist. I roam her body with my intense gaze, and her legs shift, her
knees bending.
I affect her as much as she does me.
I rub faster, and then my body shudders as I release.
She stiffly steps back from the shower before I can meet her eyes, and she plugs in her curling iron at the sink.
I control my breathing, keeping my weight supported with my left hand on the wall. And I let my thoughts realign from hormonal places to more logical ones. I have been with Rose for an entire year, and I’ve been jacking off for most of it.
Waiting for her—that’s not the hard part. Knowing what’s best for her but watching her deny it out of stubbornness—that is.
I open the shower door. She caps her toothpaste and places it meticulously back in the organized cabinet. Her body is tense and lit up, and she’ll most likely please herself later to alleviate the pulsing between her legs.
She glances at me once, and her eyes immediately flit away. “We have towels, Richard.” She points a manicured nail to the rack. “Terrycloth. Soft. Inviting. You might want to try one out.”
The corners of my lips rise. “It’s just a cock, Rose,” I say. “You’d enjoy it inside of you.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically, but her neck flushes.
I understand that she’s afraid to lose her power. We’re equals on many accounts, but when it comes to sex, I am like a god to her mortal standing. And it’s driving her crazy. Not that she’s ever been completely sane.
I casually walk towards her. “So you’ve learned politics, philosophy, French, business and fashion at Princeton, but clearly you were a little slow in your dormitory studies. Penn would have served you better.”
She glares. “Why? Because your college was filled with juvenile horndogs?”
I ease behind her, and she stares at me questioningly through the mirror.
Approaching Rose Calloway is like nearing a sleeping tiger. Every single time there’s a chance she’ll bite me. “No,” I whisper, pulling the collar of
her robe to expose more of her neck. “Because I was there.” I press my lips lightly to her nape.
And her whole body trembles. Just as my hands fall to the slip of her robe, she spins towards me and places her hands on my chest. Normally I’d back up, but I stand my ground. Right here. Not moving to her demands.
I raise my palms and then clasp my hands behind my back, showing that I won’t touch her anymore. But if she wants to curl her hair, she’s going to have to do it with me—naked—behind her.
“Back up,” she says.
“If I really thought you wanted me to, I would.”
“I do.” But curiosity glimmers in her yellow-green eyes, and she peers down at my cock for the first time.
She remains stoic, almost unreadable, but the corner of her lip betrays her, rising in a fraction of a smile. When she meets my gaze again, I tilt my head, grinning in satisfaction, the kind that only incites her.
She holds up a warning finger at me. “Don’t you dare say do you like what you see? I will break up with you right here if you utter those fucking stupid words.”
I laugh into a wider grin and say, “I don’t have to ask you, Rose. I already know you do.”
She pushes me lightly in the chest and tries not to share my smile. “Why am I with you? You’re so conceited, arrogant—”
“Narcissistic,” I add, “attractive, lovable, brilliant.”
“That wasn’t an invitation for you to compliment yourself.” “No? My bad, I thought we were listing my best qualities.” Her eyes fall again.
“Yes, my cock is most definitely one of them.”
Rose crosses her arms, which shifts her robe, exposing the top of her breast. My body heats at the sight of her smooth skin, her nipple very close to peeking from the black fabric.
“Put your cock away,” she tells me.
“You’re not with me because I’m a doormat,” I remind her. “If you want to walk all over a man, you should have chosen Lewis Jacobson.”
She gags. “God, don’t even. He stared at every girl’s ass when he jogged onto court.” He was a point guard for Princeton—the type of guy who would love to be controlled by Rose.
“Just remember that I’m not going to bend to your will.” “But you’re waiting for me to bend to yours?” she snaps.
“And now we’re at our five hundredth standstill.” I run a hand through my wet hair, pushing the strands back, and her chest rises again at the motion. “Two cooks in the kitchen.”
“Two dominants, no submissive,” she adds.
I shake my head and try to tone down my grin that is really, really riling her to a bad point. She looks like she’s going to slap me. “No,” I say.
She gapes. “What do you mean no? My metaphor matched yours!”
She doesn’t realize it yet, but she’s nowhere near dominant in bed. It’s a reason why she’s slamming on the brakes. She’s so in control of her everyday life that she expects the same once she straddles a man. But if she truly wanted that, she’d be attracted to a much different guy than me and she’d already have lost her virginity, riding the fuck out of him.
“I think we both know there’s only one dominant here.” Her eyes flare. “Take it back, Richard.”
I want to make her feel as confident and strong inside the bedroom as
she is outside. It’s a goal that Scott Van Wright won’t steal from me, even if he tries.
“Take back the truth?” I frown. “That’d make me a liar. And I know how much you hate liars, hun.” My hands are still behind my back, but I step towards her.
She grips the sink counter behind her and reaches over to grab a towel.
She shoves it at my chest.
I haven’t lost yet.
I wrap the cloth around my waist. It hangs low so she has view of my defined muscles. I make time for the gym with Loren and his half-brother, but I’ve always been in good shape. I grew up wanting to reach the peak of physical and mental perfection. It’s an unattainable goal. But one I set. One I seek.
People hope to touch the sky. I dream of kissing it.
Rose spins back towards the sink. She uses the iron to curl loose waves in her straight hair. Most men would be scared of her—gripping a hot weapon. My cock begins to throb as I watch her through the mirror.
She breathes heavily, trying not to pay attention to me, but it’s a little difficult. I’m six-foot-four. I’m twice her size. She’s small, feminine in comparison to my body that could cloak her easily.
She swallows and says, “Do you think Lily and Loren are having more sex than usual?”
Anytime Lily and Lo’s sex life arises, it closes the door to discuss ours. It’s a ploy, a simple distraction, but Rose is also truly invested in her sister’s recovery. She cares. I do as well, but Rose will always be my number one priority.
“They’re touching more than usual,” I say. “But I think it’s more for the camera’s benefit.”
“He’s teasing her, and she’s going to regress…after all the progress she’s made.”
“You have to trust him.”
She cringes at the idea of putting faith in Loren Hale. They only tolerate each other for Lily’s sake. I’m in a difficult position because I’ve grown to like Lo as a real friend.
“I need a favor,” she suddenly says.
“Favors,” I muse with a smile. “It’ll cost you.”
“I knew being your girlfriend wouldn’t have many perks. I still owe you things.”
“You have plenty of perks,” I tell her. “You just choose not to delight in them.” I edge close to her, setting a hand on the counter, my mouth near her
neck as I lean in low. She tenses as my hand dips to her thigh. “What favor do you need?” I ask, slipping my palm beneath her robe.
“I’m going to burn you,” she says, not as a threat. Fear spikes in her voice. She unplugs the curling iron quickly and sets it aside.
I bite her ear and whisper, “Breathe.”
She barely exhales. “I need you to give Lo the talk.”
I hunch over, resting my chin on her shoulder for a second. My expression stays complacent, composed—the face I carry with me throughout the day, the one Rose calls “fake.”
“I think we’re past that talk, Rose.”
She glowers, her entire body responding to the emotion. Her eyes
narrow, her stance closes, her shoulders pull back, forcing me to straighten up.
I almost get hard.
“Don’t patronize me,” she says. “Lo’s going to get my sister pregnant on accident. He’s impulsive and careless. So you need to do what you do best and instill some common sense into him.”
“I imagine that conversation blowing over as well as a hurricane.” I twirl her by the waist so she leans against the counter, facing me. “So it’s going to cost you.”
She peruses my body with a sharp gaze. “I’m prepared to pay.” My lips slowly rise. “Are you?”
“Yes.” But her eyes speak differently, and my smile fades. She’s really, truly scared.
“You’re safe with me, you know that, Rose?” I ask her. “I won’t ever hurt you.” I’ve always treated her like she’s an extension of myself.
The more hostile, torrid side—that is.
It’s a reason I’ve become so possessive of her throughout the years, even when we weren’t together.
“I know,” she says, relaxing her shoulders. “Then I’ll talk with Lo.”
“What do I need to do for you?” she asks, too stubborn to back down, even if the unknown frightens her.
“Stop thinking for a minute.” “What—”
I kiss her, my large hand cupping her delicate face, my lips against her soft. Her breath rises to her throat, and her body curves to meet mine. She rouses, clutching my muscular arms with her free hands. The uncertainty still lingers on her lips, hesitating.
I break apart. “Get out of your head,” I tell her, my hand lowering to her ass. I push her against me, her pelvis tucked neatly to mine. Her robe slips between her legs, revealing the bareness of her thighs.
A moan pushes through her lips. I pin her against the counter, only the towel separating my cock from her body, and she struggles to gain control with me. Her head dips back in arousal, and she desperately grips my arms, her fingers digging into my biceps. But she looks lost on what to do with her legs, one wanting to wrap around my waist, the other half off the ground with the force of my body.
I hold her left leg up to my side, stretching her, and she lets out a staggered breath. “Wait, wait…” she starts, her hands on my chest. She’s flushed and warm to the touch, but she plummets right back in her fucking head.
“Rose,” I chastise and drop her leg to the ground.
She rests her elbows on the counter, confusion lacing her eyes.
You liked that. It’s okay to like that, Rose. My hand returns to her jaw, caressing her cheek as she processes what happened—my dominant
movements that trounced her into a puddle. My puddle.
I run my thumb on her bottom lip.
“Je suis passionné de toi,” I say. I am passionate about you.
Her chest falls, understanding me well.
I slip my thumb into her mouth, and a sharp noise catches in her throat. She blushes at hearing herself. I leave my thumb there and press a soft kiss to her neck, and then I suck sensitive spots, trailing up her collar to her cheek.
She can throw me off at any second.
But surprisingly, she closes her lips over my thumb. She doesn’t suck it, doesn’t run her tongue against it. I don’t think she really knows what to do, but I adore her more for trying. I let her off the hook and quickly replace my hand with my lips, my tongue, trying to lose her with the moment.
Her movements are more assured now, her hands drifting to my hair, tugging, clenching, kneading. Her spine curves again, her body meeting mine once more. That’s it, Rose. I have you.
You’re safe with me.
A full minute passes before that all disappears, before she retreats into her head again, before her kisses shorten, before her lips close and she pulls back altogether.
It was a brief, fleeting moment where I almost had her vulnerable and bare. But if I can put my thumb into her mouth without her biting it off, it’s only a matter of time until I’m inside her completely.
