Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(61)

Her nose wrinkles ever so slightly. “And?”

I move the hem higher on one side, exposing an extra inch of skin. “And I broke up with her after undergrad when she wanted to move in together.”

“You didn’t want to live with her?” Her voice sounds strained.

“No,” I say simply.

“Why not?”

Because she wasn’t you is what’s on the tip of my tongue. But I say, “It just wasn’t right. I didn’t want to settle down,” and lift the dress higher on her opposite leg as well.

Rosie swallows and nods slowly. “Okay, and then?”

I sigh and try to step away from her, but she nudges me with one booted foot. An unspoken challenge for me to stay in place.

Not one to back down, I swallow and move in closer again, my quads against her knees. And then I continue— talking and testing the limits with the hem of her skirt.

“Then I dated a woman for a few years while I ran Gin and Lyrics and worked on Gramophone with my business partners. But after the app went public, everything changed. That was a hard time for me. I learned a lot of valuable lessons about friends and relationships. Mostly that when unfathomable amounts of money are involved, people often change.”

“In ways you don’t approve of?”

I swallow, thumbing the thin fabric as a distraction. “I didn’t want to give artists a platform only to rake them over the coals and pay them a pittance. I made my feelings on reducing their royalties known—rather publicly—and my opinion was not appreciated.”

“And this relates to the girlfriend how?”

“I would like to be more than the number of zeroes in my bank account to the people in my life who I choose to trust.”

“So, you didn’t trust this woman?” Confusion paints her dainty face and I move to pull away, but her feet shoot forward and her boots hook around the backs of my legs, pulling me in closer. Keeping me from retreating.

The position leaves the dress draped down between her now-spread legs, covering any view I might have. It has her leaning back over my desk. It brings me closer than I should be.

Close enough that I prop the pen behind my ear and reach forward, my hands gripping her bare thighs as though that might keep her from pulling me any closer.

Then I tell her what I’ve told no one else.

“No. I learned I couldn’t trust her. Or the people I went into business with. When I offered to personally fund artist royalties to offset the cut she became awfully concerned with ‘our’ fortune. “Obsessed, really.” I scoff. “Like it would even have made a dent. Luckily, my one business partner, and former friend, is a big proponent of hoarding his cash and fucking people over. Jumping into his bed was a very convenient transition for her.”

Rosie gasps and I watch a range of emotions play out in her ocean-blue irises. First comes shock, then sympathy, and then outrage. “I hate her,” she spits.

My fingers pulse on her thighs and a low chuckle spills from my lips. I love her ferocity. Her loyalty. But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I say, “I trust sparingly now.”

Her top teeth nip at her bottom lip as she regards me keenly. “Do you trust me?”

I watch my hands on her bare legs. Moving them down over the tops of her thighs to the bend behind her knees and then back up to where they started. Then I finally meet her crystalline gaze. “Yes.”

She sucks in a breath and nods. “Good. Tell me who else there’s been.”

“No one else.”

She sputters. “Wait. What? That’s it?” Disbelief drips from her tone as her fingers flex on the edge of the desk, grappling for control.

My stroking turns to massaging. My cheeks feel warm, and my dick is rock hard.

“It’s adorable that you think fewer partners means I’ve had less sex.” I tilt my face up to hers as I say, “It’s also adorable you treat me like I’m still the bumbling teenager I was back in the days recounted on the pages of that journal.”

She blushes, and I watch it spread down her throat. Pink skin cropping up over her chest, expanding beneath the neckline of her thin dress.

“Rosie,” I continue, trailing the tips of my fingers over the backs of her legs. “I think you may have confused my self-control and sense of integrity with lack of experience or interest.”

She makes a breathy little noise that sounds like a long drawn-out “Ha,” as though she’s having a good laugh at how dead wrong she’s been. Her chin drops, and she watches my hands trailing over her skin. Gooseflesh pops up on the tops of her thighs.

“You’re really telling me you’ve only ever been with two women?”

I move my palms up over the top of her thighs. We both watch my hands disappear beneath her skirt.

“Yes, but I’ve only ever really wanted one.”

I hear her swallow. But she doesn’t respond. That realization might take her a while.

“One I can’t fucking have.”

I flip her skirt up around her waist abruptly and she gasps. My eyes soak in the sight of her slender thighs leading up to the apex, covered in a plain white pair of boy shorts.

“Oh my god,” she whispers as we both take in the sight before us.

She attempts to squeeze her legs together, but all it does is clamp me more tightly in place.