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“It’s not that simple. At least it’s not for me.” She looks around on the floor by the bed. “Where are my panties?”
“It’s a lot simpler than you think.” I find the wisp of silk tucked under the edge of the bed and hand them to her, watching as she slides them on. My cock twitches. She’s so fucking sexy standing in front of me in nothing but those little panties. All I want to do is bend her over, slide them to the side, and take her from behind while my hands knead that plump ass of hers.
But apparently, according to her, we aren’t ever doing anything like that again.
I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “I don’t get it, Rose. We live in the same city. We’re both single. I like you. I’m pretty damn sure you like me. What’s the problem?”
She steps into her dress and pulls it up over her hips. “Listen, I know how you rock stars are, having a woman in every zip code and all that. I don’t want to be the girl who worries about what her man is up to every time we’re apart.” Rose digs a shoe out from beneath the bed and looks around for the mate.
“Uh huh, so you think I’m a serial cheater because I’m in a band. Got it. Anything else?”
“Yes. There’s Courtney.”
“What about Courtney?”
“I really have to explain this to you?” She gives me a somber look. “Last night was really great. But this is all it can be. I’m sorry I didn’t communicate that before. I just figured it was what you wanted too.”
I stare at her, searching my mind for some way to convince her that this is more than just sex. That she’s wrong about us not being able to be together.
But all I can say is, “Where are you going?”
“My room. My flight home is in a few hours.”
She starts to walk away.
“Wait, Rose.”
She stops and looks at me. Her eyes are a little misty. “What?”
“Do you wish there could be more than just this?”
“I…” She chews on her bottom lip and then sighs. “Yes. But it’s not possible.”
“Rose—”
“I’m so sorry, Evan,” she says, her voice breaking.
And then she’s gone.
Chapter Seven
Rose
Two Weeks Later
When my phone pings again with a notification, I know without even picking it up that it’s Evan. Ever since Hawaii, he’s been texting me invitations to go on dates with him. He’s asked me to the botanical gardens, to a beach picnic, even to go hot air ballooning with him…the list goes on and on.
I wish so badly that I could say yes. I wish so badly that I could see him, have fantastic adventures with him, kiss him again, feel him inside me again…
But everything Courtney has said about her brother over the years keeps echoing in my head.
Fuck. I should never have indulged. I should have known it would be too hard afterward.
I flick the notifications closed and silence my phone so I don’t have to hear the next invitation that’s inevitably going to come. In an attempt to distract myself, I grab my laptop and try to get some work done. I need to send some invitation options to one of my clients, anyway.
But it’s an exercise in futility because browsing wedding invitation templates just makes me think of Courtney’s wedding, and that just makes me think of Evan.
Shutting my laptop, I grab my phone and text Courtney, asking if she wants to grab a drink. I wasn’t planning on texting her until tomorrow—she and Leon just got back from Hawaii this morning—but screw it.
