Page 150 of The Rogue and His Flower

“You told me you loved me. Was that a lie?” I ask, cutting her off before she’s able to sabotage this conversation further.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she says, barely able to look at me.

“Of course it fucking matters. Do you love me, Daisy?”

“What difference would it make?”

“Daisy, do you love me or not?” I ask, my heart thumping so hard that I feel it pound against my ribcage violently.

“Yes,of courseI love you,” she whispers, her lips trembling.

A flood of intense relief pummels my body, and I do the only thing I can in the moment, I lean over and pull her into my arms, kissing her with the kind of passion that is born from a desperate need to show her how much I fucking love her too.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

DAISY

His kiss burns. It’s potent, life-altering. It has the ability to rage through my sadness and turn it to ash. I’m helpless against it, my body leaning into his, our connection snapping to life as I kiss him back.

Tears pour from my eyes, tipping over my lashes in scolding rivers. I can taste the salt of them as we kiss, and it reminds me of the turquoise ocean on our honeymoon, and the love that blossomed within me a thousand miles away from the constraints of his father’s demands. There we had been free to explore our connection, sink into the blissfulness of each other, unravel the past and accept it for what it was. But real life slapped us both in the face, tainting that time with something neither of us had bargained for.

“Daisy, fuck. Daisy, I–” Dalton rattles on, grasping my face and leaning back slightly as he stares at me, his gaze harrowed. “Fuck, I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m sorry. I was so cruel just now,” I whisper, reaching up and stroking my fingers against his stubbled cheek.

“Don’t be sorry, not for anything, you hear me, Daisy?” he demands, searching my face. “You were scared, and I didn’t do enough to reassure you. I’m sorry, I’m still learning here.”

“It wasn’t just you, Dalton. It was me too. I pushed you away. I’m so sorry for that, for everything.” My voice trails off as I drag in a quivering breath and he hauls me closer, his hand running up and down my back, comforting me.

“Dalton, can I ask you something?” I eventually ask.

“Of course,” he says, leaning back and brushing his lips tenderly against mine. “Anything.”

“Do you… Do you love me?”There, I said it.

“Do I love you?” he repeats, shaking his head as though in disbelief. “You really need to ask me that?”

“I–”

But my response is cut off as he slams his lips against mine and kisses me roughly, with more emotion, with a force that comes from somewhere deep within.

I feel it… his love.

I feel it in this kiss, it’s undeniable.

My chest heaves at the desperate kind of aching I’ve felt this past few months, the fearful kind of wanting, and now at the unending sense of rightness, of belonging. Every doubt, every fear, every insecurity melts away in his embrace. The world narrows to just the two of us, lost in each other, suspended in time as we kiss and kiss and kiss.

When we finally break apart, our breaths mingling, cheeks flushed, mouths parted on soft exhales, he holds my gaze with a fierceness that steals my breath.

“Fuck, Daisy, don’t you know that I already do? Iloveyou,” he says, pressing a kiss against my cheek. “I love you,” he repeats, kissing the tip of my nose. “I love you,” he murmurs against my mouth once more.

“I love you too.” My voice quakes, a breath releasing from my lips in a soft puff of relief.

“I love everything about you, Daisy, my beautiful wife. My perfect fucking flower,” he insists, pressing another kiss againstmy lips and taking my breath away with his confession before pulling back and laughing softly. “Do you know how incredible it feels to say those words, Daisy, to feel that love?”

“I have an idea,” I reply, smiling through my tears.

“God, I feel like I could accomplish anything knowing that you love me, that I love you.”

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