Stealing Rose Promotional Tour
with Monica Murphy
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STEALING ROSE (The Fowler Sisters #2)
by
Monica Murphy
Adult Contemporary Romance
Release Date: 3/3/15
People say the youngest child has it easy, but
nothing can be further from the truth. Unlike my two sisters, Violet and Lily,
I’m never in the limelight. I just work my butt off for Fleur Cosmetics and get
little to no thanks for it. I’ve been pushed too far one too many times, and
I’m finally brave enough to do something about it.
Maybe my newfound courage has something to do with the amazing pink and white diamond necklace I wear to the party in Cannes. The instant those dazzling heirloom jewels touch my skin, they excite some deep, aching need inside. And when that guy—that totally gorgeous guy—locks eyes with me, I know this nice girl is going to be naughty.
For once it’s my turn. My turn to say no to my father, to outshine my sisters, to walk away from it all—straight into the arms of a mysterious stranger. But what if Caden is much more than I bargained for? Sure, he makes me feel sexy and free in a way I never have before, but there’s something else I can’t quite place—something dangerous. Maybe our “chance” meeting wasn’t so random. Maybe he was looking for me for a reason. Whatever his motive, there’s no going back now.
And maybe I don’t want to.
“Have
you ever done something reckless?” she asks, her voice soft.
All
the fucking time. “Have you?”
She
opens her eyes and looks over at me. “I asked first,” she says before she
resumes her position.
“Yeah.
Haven’t we all?”
“No.
Not me, not really. I may act all tough, like I take no crap, but that’s all it
is. An act. I prefer things to be safe. I don’t like to take risks. And I am
definitely not reckless.” She drops her arms to her sides for the briefest
moment before she’s reaching under her arm and unzipping the dress. The top
gaps, revealing nothing but bare skin and that she’s not wearing a bra.
Christ.
As
the dress falls away from her body and lands in a heap at her feet, I realize
she’s not wearing any panties, either. She’s standing in front of me completely
naked—the Poppy Necklace like a glittering, expensive collar around her
neck—and my mouth goes dry as I drink her in. My entire body stirs, including
my cock, and I lick my lips, fighting the hunger that threatens to take over.
It’s
been a long time since I’ve been with a woman. Longer still since I felt so
attracted to one. And I am definitely, without a fucking doubt, attracted to
Rose Fowler.
A
tiny, sly smile curls her lush lips as I stare at her, as if she can read my
thoughts and approves of their direction. And then without a word, she dives
into the pool, hardly making a splash.
I
watch in fascination when moments later she pops her head up, treading water.
“You should join me.”
The
absolute last thing I can do. “I don’t think so.”
“Aw,
why not?” She mock pouts. “Scared of the water?”
“No.”
“Scared
of me?” She laughs.
“Not
at all.”
“Then
join me.” She smiles and swims closer to the edge, standing in the water where
it reaches her waist. Her skin is covered with little droplets of water; her
pale pink nipples are hard, and my cock is, too.
Rubbing
a hand over my face, I grit my teeth together and slip my other hand in the
pocket of my suit jacket, fingering the cool stones stashed away inside. “I
can’t.”
Her
expression turns solemn and she lifts her arms, smoothing back her hair. The
movement lifts her breasts, showing off the dip in her waist, the sleekness of
her belly. Jesus, her body will be the fucking death of me. “Are you gay or
what?”
I
laugh and shake my head. “No.”
She
drops her arms so they splash in the water, frustration written all over her
features. “Then why won’t you join me?”
A
burst of sound comes from the building behind us and I turn to see a group of
partygoers spill out onto the terrace, led by the woman whose bracelet is
currently resting in my pocket. Shit. “Come here,” I urge her, reaching out for
her hands with both of mine.
Rose
frowns. “You can’t lift me out of the pool.”
“Watch
me.” I wave my fingers at her, then scan the area, my gaze returning to the
terrace. The group of people is still there, milling about, though they haven’t
come down the stairs yet. But it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be
looking for me, and I swear I can hear the woman commanding everyone about in
her very loud, very shrill French. “Come on.” I return my attention to Rose,
who’s still contemplating me as if I’ve lost my mind, which I probably have.
“Hurry.”
She
takes my hands and I pull her out of the pool since she doesn’t weigh a damn
thing, setting her on her feet directly in front of me. She’s dripping wet and
I let my gaze roam all over her perfect body, memorizing her every feature so I
can commit her to memory and pull this moment out for later. “What are you
doing?”
Before
I can overthink it I grab her, my arm clamping tight around her slender waist,
my hand sprawled across one perfect ass cheek. Her skin is damp and soft and
chilled from the water and I give her plump flesh a firm squeeze, savoring the
gasp that escapes her when I touch her like that.
“Kiss
me for luck,” I whisper as my head descends toward hers. She’s frowning, her
gaze landing on my lips, watching as I make my descent until her lids flutter
closed and I press my mouth to hers in a lingering, chaste kiss.
She
steps closer and rests her hands on my chest and I break the kiss first.
Opening my eyes to drink in this naked, wet nymph pressed against me, her skin
pale and gleaming in the moonlight. I touch the necklace, tracing the stones,
wishing like crazy I could snatch it from her neck. The necklace is perfection.
It’s a rare piece, expensive and exquisitely made, and it’s killing me to have
it so close and knowing I can’t have it.
Yet.
Her
chest lifts on a deep inhale, making my gaze drop to her breasts, and my finger
falls as if I have no control, circling around her left pink nipple once. Only
once. It’s the single indulgence I’ll allow myself and it’s fucking torture,
touching her like this, feeling the little nub of flesh tighten, hearing her
sharp inhale, scenting her arousal. I’d much rather take it further and draw
that perfect little nipple into my mouth and suck. Hard. Run my hands and lips
and tongue all over her body until she’s begging me to fuck her.
But
I don’t do any of that. Instead, I tell her solemnly, “Thank you,” and I kiss
her again, deeper this time, my tongue sliding against hers for the briefest,
most mind-numbing moment before I pull away, releasing my hold on her. I start
to back away, regret taking hold and making me feel like an asshole.
I
am an asshole. There’s no denying that fact.
“Thank
you for what?” she asks when she opens her eyes. She brings her arms up,
covering her breasts, looking incredibly vulnerable standing by the edge of the
glowing turquoise pool, naked and wet and trembling. The lights from the city
are bright as they surround us; I can hear the sounds of the sea, the clank of
the boats that are docked nearby.
All
the while, the necklace sparkles around her neck like a beacon, mocking me.
Driving me to distraction. I stare at it. Stare at her. That’s what I want.
Her. And the necklace. But I can’t have either.
I
can’t have both.
“For
giving me a night I’ll never forget,” I tell her before I turn.
And
leave her behind. Never once looking back.
No
matter how much it kills me.
The Fowler Sisters Series
Available Now!
Coming July 7, 2015!
Preorder Taming Lily
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo
New York Times, USA Today and international bestselling author Monica Murphy is a native Californian who lives in the foothills below Yosemite with her husband and three children. She's a workaholic who loves her job. When she's not busy writing, she also loves to read and travel with her family. She writes new adult and contemporary romance and is published with Bantam and Avon.
She also writes romance as USA Today bestselling author Karen Erickson.
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