By the time she opened the door, Vicious was gone. Probably up in his room, smoking a fat one.
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.