“That’s because you haven’t seen Borough Market yet.” He waited for her to fall into step alongside him. “There’s not a scrap of clothing for sale there.”
She laughed. “Then how will it be inspiring?”
“You wanted new tastes and textures. Each stall has something different to offer, treats from all over the world.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll show you.”
“Okay.” She walked close to him, so their hips bumped from time to time. “This is perfect actually, because you know Sara so well you can show me things she likes. How long have you been friends?”
“Entirely too long.” At Rosalind’s questioning look, he shook his head. “I’ve known her since she was born. We grew up together.”
He congratulated himself for sticking to the truth, however abbreviated.
“I don’t have many friends from childhood. It was always me and my sisters,” Rosalind said, her tone thoughtful. “It’s nice that you stayed close to Sara, because my sisters and I barely know each other anymore.”
“That’s a shame.” He glanced at her. “Isn’t it?”
She smiled. “Yes, it is. Do you have siblings?”
“Just a stepsister.” Before she could ask for more details, he said, “What do you usually do for inspiration?”
“Sometimes I have high tea at the Top of the Mark. Sometimes I walk in nature, in Marin, or I take a bus ride through colorful neighborhoods. It depends on the bride and what feeling I want her dress to convey.”
“The dress conveys a feeling?”
Rosalind nodded. “And an attitude. It’s sometimes borrowed from the bride, but usually the dress gives the person wearing it oomph. I just have to capture the right feeling, so the bride feels comfortable in the dress and not like she’s battling it.”
“Wedding dresses are more complicated than I thought.”
“You have no idea.” She pointed to a chocolate store. “It’s like the chocolate. There are hundreds of different flavors, to appeal to different people.”
He pulled her into the shop and pointed to the sample pieces on the counter. “Shall we see which flavor appeals to you?”
“I have a suspicion I know which one I’ll like,” she said in a husky voice that grabbed him low.
Careful to keep his distance, he held a bite of chocolate out to her. He watched her eyelids lower as her mouth opened to accept it. Her lips brushed his finger, and she hummed a low, throaty sound of content.
She’d make the same sound naked, riding him—he knew it without a doubt. His lower half perked up at the thought, and he couldn’t help leaning closer to her.
Gaze locked with his, she held his wrist and brought his finger back to her mouth, her tongue lapping the chocolate that’d melted on it. Her teeth nipped his skin, and she closed her lips over it and sucked for a brief second.
He tugged her against his body. “I feel like you’re asking for a different kind of inspiration.”
“I’m not sure I need to ask.” She pressed her hips against him. “You seem to know what I need.”
He knew what he needed, but he knew better than to go there before Summer and her scheming were resolved. “We should move along,” he said.
“You have a look,” Rosalind said as he led her outside. “You’re thinking of the future and what’s going to happen.”
He nodded, not at all surprised that she could read him so clearly.
“Don’t think about it. I want this to happen, regardless of where we end up.” She stopped and cupped his face. “I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever goes on here. I want to handle it.”
His groin tightened at her obvious insinuation. “And if something happens that we don’t expect?”
“I can safely say that’s already happened,” she said, “because I never expected to come back to London and find this.”
He felt her hand twine in his, and his heart filled his chest.
She looked at him, her eyes begging him to kiss her.
He couldn’t tell her no—not when she looked at him that way. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. Walking her backwards, his lips nibbling hers, his body pressed hers against the stone wall of the building.
Before he could stop himself, his hands slipped under her top. They both groaned. “I’ve been wanting to touch your skin since I laid eyes on you,” he heard himself say.
“But you keep telling me no.” She shivered as his hands trailed up her midriff, and then moaned as he pressed his hardness against her.
“Because I care about you.” He grazed her nipples with his thumbs, and their kiss grew hotter. He trailed kisses along her jaw to her ear. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. Since the moment I saw you, I haven’t been able to stop imagining stripping you and touching every inch of you.”