Page 3 of Yours for the Taking (Falling For A Rose)

It wasn’t ironic that their seats were beside one another since they’d been paired up in their walk down the aisle during the ceremony.

He pulled out her chair, and she sat. Then he swiftly took his seat, relaxing as the speaker pulled their attention.

Carla was feeling particularlyspicy that night. If Jacob would’ve taken her seriously when she mentioned the bridal suite, they would’ve disappeared long before they made it into the dining hall.

She quivered, imaging her feet planted as she rode his dick, ass slapping against his hard thighs while she cried out from the puncture of his solid shaft.

“Damn, damn, damn.”

Her body tingled as her thoughts ignited with pleasure.

But unfortunately, the date that they scheduled never happened.

Jacob Alexander Rose was a world-renowned architect. His designs had caught the attention of the Royals of Kéra Asnela, and as such, they’d requested a meeting on the same day as their date.

The day that his handsome face and intense gaze lit up her phone’s screen, her pussy became a whac-a-moling jolt of activity that made her rush to answer.

“Bellissima…”

His tone was immediately regretful, and she knew the call wouldn’t spawn into the pleasantries she imagined it would.

“I promise to make up for missing out on what I know will be a great time with you.”

Carla smirked. “Damn right it would be.”

Jacob’s baritone guffaw churned the butterflies in her belly.

“Did you save my number in your phone?” he asked.

“Of course I did.”

A dark rumble splintered her flesh. Carla twisted on her toes.

“Did you save my number?”

“How else would I have called,bellissima?”

She shrugged. “Good point.”

He chuckled.

“Okay, well, I won’t keep you. But don’t forget about me.”

“Never.”

And although he’dsaid it, hearing from Jacob felt like it had been forever. In reality, it had only been a few months.

“Still,” Carla said, finally catching her breath.

On shaky legs, she pushed from the wet tile and stood to her feet, showering efficiently and stepping out just as her cell phone rang.

Sasha, Carla’s Bichon Frise, jogged up to her feet as if she were waiting for Carla to get out of the shower. She wagged her tail, indicating she wanted to be petted.

Wrapping a towel around her body, Carla dropped to pet Sasha, then scooped Sasha in her arms as she exited the lavatory and entered her bedroom, finding her cell on a dresser.

“Hello.”

“Well, don’t sound so excited, will ya?”

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