Fuel the Fire (Calloway Sisters 3)

My cock has been patient enough. With my dry, clean hand, I skim the hem of her panties. And I rip them off.

Her eyes snap open. “Connor.”

“Close your eyes.”

She does, partially because shampoo begins to slide from her forehead to her nose. I wipe the soap away and continue kneading her scalp, washing off excess shampoo.

I run my fingers between her thighs. “You’ve been standing here this fucking wet?”

She breathes shallowly. “Connor…”

I drive two fingers inside of her, and she reaches out for something to grip for support. I guide her hands to the counter, so she can clutch the marble. Her wrists drip with water as I return my hand to her hair.

I lean closer to Rose, my hard cock digging against her ass and my lips brush her ear, my breath low and hot. “You better be ready for something bigger.”

She squeezes her eyes tighter closed and reaches for my hand between her thighs. “Wait…”

I retract my fingers and guide her hand back to the fucking sink. “If you have something important to say, then say it now, otherwise, I’m pushing into you.” I clasp the back of her head with more force, causing her throat to bob in arousal.

“Shut off the water,” she requests.

I turn the faucet off, so she can concentrate on us and not fear drowning. Then swiftly, I turn her around to face me, her back pressed against the lip of the counter. I grip her face in a strong hand and kiss her lips. “C’est tout?” Anything else?

She lets out another breath. “Ne soyez pas gentil.” Don’t be gentle.

I can’t even remember the last time that I was. “I wasn’t planning on it.” I lower my gym pants and compression shorts, finally free. In assured, hard movements, I lift her left leg high around my waist, her head tilted back and supported by my other hand. Then I grip my shaft and ram all the way into her.

She cries, her back arching off the counter. I keep her body stationary, and I thrust into her with deep, fast strokes, needing to do this quickly.

My body heats with hers. I push harder.

“Fuck,” Rose cries, her legs quivering. She has trouble catching her breath, her mouth open. I groan when she pulses against my cock.

I unbutton her shirt, her chest exposed, breasts bigger and fuller than before her pregnancy. It grips me even more, and I kiss her nipple before biting once. She moans and mutters a word that sounds like yes. I kiss the top of her breast before holding onto her waist, curvier—I thrust deeper.

“Connor,” she gasps.

I watch my long, throbbing cock disappear between her legs. Over and over. Inside the woman that I love. Inside the mother of my child. Inside my teammate and equal. A grin pulls at my lips. One more thrust and a blinding sensation washes over me. And her.

She shudders, her pulse quickening. I can almost feel her heart pounding.

“Oh God,” she mutters.

I straighten up and arch a brow at her.

She still has her eyes closed.

I slap her ass.

She moans again.

“I need to find a new way to reprimand you. You enjoy this too much.” I grip her ass, which I’d love to fuck one day. For another time, I know.

She props her body on her elbows, half of her still in my possession. “Honestly,” she breathes, “I’m not sure what I said.”

I slowly pull out of her, and she makes a choking sound. I rub her clit. “You thanked God again.”

“It’s a euphemism.”

“It’s an annoying euphemism when I’m the one who makes you come.”

She licks her lips. “I was going to give you an A plus for the sex, but I’m dropping your score to a B.”

“I don’t like your grading methods.”

“I don’t like your face.” Her eyes dance around my features in pure attraction.

“Maybe you should say that without looking like you want me nine-inches deep inside of you.”

“Maybe it’s not you that I want in me.”

I raise my brows and stop rubbing her—the statement is such a lie that it’s hard to even react negatively. “You’ve had plenty of other opportunities.” And she never took any of them when we were younger. Technically speaking, she waited for me. If I was more moral, I think I’d feel guilty for not returning the favor. But sex wasn’t emotional for me.

“What if I had taken those opportunities?” she asks seriously.

I set her foot on the floor. “I’d love you the same, but I’m selfishly happy you didn’t.”

“Because now you can have all of me,” she states. I’ve never been deceitful about my narcissism. It’s not a front or a mirage. I truly feel entitled to most things, and when I have them, I take good care of them until I grow bored. Then I find something new to play with.

However, I would never grow bored with Rose. So I married her, and in that sense, I am moral. I’m committed to the person I truly love rather than someone I momentarily like.

“Yes, I have all of you,” I reply, “but Rose, I’m married to you. I never weigh my experience against your lack of experience and think you’re less than me. You’re always, and will always, be my equal.”

She nods. “I believe you.”

I tuck a damp piece of hair behind her ear. She shivers, the strands wet on her shoulders. By training her mind back on her hair, she’s more aware that it’s dyed. Her eyes are right on mine, gauging my reaction to her new color before she looks.

I’m completely impassive, her hair actually more copper than rust.

“Just tell me,” she says, swallowing hard.

I lift her chin with my fingers and whisper, “‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’”

She smacks my arm with the heel of her palm, recognizing the quote from Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet.

I can’t restrain a grin. “It’s a famous euphemism, Rose.” I draw her closer to my body, peeking into her opened shirt for a millisecond. She tugs the fabric closed with two hands. I’m hugging her with her arms tucked to her chest, which is normal for us.

“It’s an annoying, famous euphemism, Richard,” she says, her lips almost twitching upward.

“Is that a smile?”

“No,” she says. “It’s a hateful frown.”

“If we’re going to rename all of societies constructs, then I’ll be sure to call that sink a table and the ceiling the floor.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

She actually smiles fully, and I hold her cheek, my thumb brushing her red lips.

“Shall we go on?” I whisper deeply. We don’t have enough time, unfortunately. I want more with her. Always.

She shakes her head and inhales, more confident. “I can dye it back next week, right?”

“Sooner,” I say. “Anytime after the picture, you can go to the salon.”

“But Celebrity Crush said—”

“Rose,” I breathe. “They just want the picture.” Andrea suggested one week, a timeframe for Rose’s altered appearance. She should be satisfied enough with the world’s reaction after one day. It’ll be exponentially greater than her sisters’ shock.

After one more silent moment, Rose rotates to the mirror, and I keep her in my arms, watching her eyes morph into pinpoints. Her shoulders tighten and her nose flares.

“It’s fucking orange,” she curses, about to grab the directions. I let her peruse them this time.

“I did everything correctly except wait longer to let it set,” I explain. “We didn’t have time, and it was burning your scalp.”

“I was fine.” She huffs though, knowing she wasn’t. She tosses the instructions in the wastebasket and thumbs a strand of her hair. “Stop smiling.”

“I’m not smiling,” I say easily.

“And I have to wear sneakers. And I have to rock climb.” She presses her hand to her forehead. I kiss that hand and then I kiss her temple.

“Ensemble,” I m

urmur. Together. “My time will come.”

This may be hard on her, but it won’t be long before one of these scenarios boomerangs back to me.

[ 7 ]

ROSE COBALT

Philly Rocks! is a poorly titled gym that contains vertical multicolored inclines with ropes and harnesses and more or less peril and doom. The apt name would be Philly Die! or Philly Misery & Ungodly Things Since I Can’t Wear My Five-Inch Heels!

What’s worse: I have two sisters stretching beside me, gazes plastered on my orange hair that I’ve tied in a high pony. No one has slung an insult my way yet, and I realize my murderous, I will run over you and then go in reverse for good measure glare has shut their lips. Lo just asked that I wear a hat, quickly attaching his explanation: the paparazzi will tail us if they see your hair, and we all want to do this in private today.