Page 43 of The Final Rose

I feel her nodding. “Still, she's Riggs. I thought she was going to be all fancy. But she’s a normal kid, isn’t she?”

I face back at her. “She’s a good one.”

Callie nods and rests her body on the seat as she rolls her head to face me. “Thank you for introducing me to her.”

“Thank you for coming. For a second there, I thought you wouldn’t.”

I almost curse myself when I let that slip out. I’m ready to move along and not get too serious, but Callie nods, biting her lip.

“I thought about it,” she confesses.

I swallow a lump, my body coming to hers. “Why?”

She shrugs, but now I’m a dog with a bone. “Why do you avoid me so much?”

Her lips part, her eyes tracing my face with a lazy disposition.

I come closer. It’s when her breathing hitches. Taking it to the next level, I touch her knee. Her skin is warm here, despite the cold outside. I want to groan when I trace her soft skin with the pad of my fingers.

“Why would you keep yourself away from me?” I push my hand, traveling further.

“Sebastian,” she says my name in a way that unravels me.

“I have a few theories. I might be wrong. You should just tell me.”

Her lips part she my hand travel up her thigh, taking it all in my palm, under her dress, my thumb draws circles inside her leg.

“You should never make assumptions,” she says in a breathy voice. I can’t wait to hear more.

“So, you agree telling me is the best option?” I can’t stop myself from smirking.

Callie’s skin is soft and sun-kissed. My hand reaches the end of its journey, my thumb grazes lace, and Callie hums. I know I’m too far gone to back down now.

With my other hand, I grip the back of her neck. Gathering her soft hair in my hands, I slide her closer to me. My thumb finds home between her legs and her mouth opens in a gasp.

The streets of London race through the dark windows. Her huge, bottomless brown eyes are all I see and, in a blink, I’m kissing her.

My mouth takes hers. Her lips are soft between mine, her taste is addictive. I feel the warmth of Callie’s hands as she clutches my shirt. She raises her head from the backrest and in a second, she kisses me as much as I’m kissing her.

Her tongue works against mine like nothing else, her chest so close, I know she’s not wearing a bra. I’m lifting her leg, my four fingers around her ass, and she whimpers in my mouth.

I lick down her throat and up her earlobe. Her hands are frantic, just like I feel. This kiss can never end. I’m back to her mouth. She digs her teeth into my bottom lip and my whole body shakes. The noises I make aren’t even human.

It was never like this. Never. I need to get her naked and under me. My mind is on track. Callie. Her soft body under mine, her voice on my ear, her legs around my waist.

The car stops. The driver clears his throat, and with force, Callie stops the kiss.

We move apart. I look down at my legs, trying to regain control.

“Cheers, mate.” I barely finish saying it to the driver when I feel the gush of cold wind and hear the slam of a door.

Callie’s gone.

Isla holds her tongue and turns to me, making a face. She’s a soft-spoken, petite yoga instructor, but previously on a group date, she told me how much she loved horror films and books, so of course, I brought her on the Jack the Ripper walking tour.

The production had to pull a few strings to get the tour filmed and tourists agreed to be part of it, but they pulled it off and I’m honestly impressed with my choice.

What did not impress me was the lack of Callie Sosa.

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