Page 78 of The Rogue and His Flower

“Apparently not.”

Daisy lets out a squeal of joy, her laughter filling the car as I pull into the cinema’s car park. “I’ll buy the snacks and drinks, if you buy the tickets,” she says.

“You’re on.”

Twenty minutes later we’re settling into our seats at the back of the cinema, just as the movie begins to play. For the most part the seats are filled with children stuffing their faces with sugary treats, whilst their parents try to keep them quiet. Daisy is as excited as the children appear to be, practically bouncing on her seat as the opening scenes play out on the screen. I find myself watching her instead of the movie, a smile tugging at my lips.

As the story unfolds, Daisy is completely immersed in the story. You’d think this was the first time she’d ever seen the movie going by her reactions. There’s something undeniably endearing about her childlike wonder, something I don’t think I’ve ever experienced myself. Growing up with an emotionless man like my father, and a mother who was distant even when she was still married to my father, meant that I didn’t have the opportunity to go to the cinema with my parents, let alone lose myself in a fantasy world like Daisy is doing right now. But watching her, I can almost understand the appeal of escaping reality for a little while, of believing in something magical and extraordinary. It’s a refreshing change to my usual routine of work and responsibilities, and Daisy’s enthusiasm begins to rub off on me as I relax into my seat.

“I love this part,” Daisy whispers, an hour or so into the movie as her hand accidentally brushes against my thigh.

I clear my throat, ignoring the bolt of electricity racing down my spine from her touch. “It’s good,” I murmur, catching her fleeting smile.

“Told you.”

As the movie nears its climax, I can’t seem to take my eyes off Daisy. Every emotion that plays out on her face as she follows the twists and turns of the plot, fills me with a longing to touch her and absorb some of her joy. When she reaches for some popcorn from the bucket resting on my lap, her intoxicating scent envelopes me, tempting me to bury my nose in her neck and breathe in deeply. Enthralled by Daisy’s company, I find myself unconsciously edging closer to her until our knees are touching. The warmth of her body seeps into mine, igniting desire deep within me that compels me to rest my hand on her thigh.

My touch seems to encourage a subtle shift in Daisy’s demeanour, her breath hitching slightly as she turns her head to meet my gaze. Her expression is soft, her eyes filled with unspoken questions, but I don’t remove my hand, instead, I begin to gently stroke her inner thigh with my thumb.

“Dalton,” she whispers, the air between us crackling with tension, heavy with unexplored possibilities.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and my pulse rushing in my ears as Daisy’s eyes flicker with uncertainty. Yet, she doesn’t try to remove my hand, instead she waits, as if she’s too afraid to confront the tentative connection blossoming between us. Fuck knows I am.

Drawn towards her, I lean in close, my lips barely brushing against her ear as I whisper, “You enchant me far more than any magic in this movie ever could.”

“I think, maybe, you’ve had too much popcorn, the sweetness has gone to your head,” she laughs softly, trying to temper the growing electricity between us with humour.

“I’ve not had any, I’m just getting high off ofyoursweetness, and your scent. It’s… addictive,” I admit, my nose brushing against the pulse point in her neck.

“I’m not wearing any perfume,” she retorts with a soft chuckle, completely ignoring the movie now.

“You smell like daisies,” I mutter, breathing her in.

A tremulous laugh escapes her lips. “Daisies don’t have a scent.”

“This one does,” I reply, brushing my lips against her skin.

She sucks in a sharp breath, a charged silence settling between us, but for some reason I don’t act like I normally would and steal a kiss. Instead, I want her to kiss me first.Needingher to.

“Was this the plan all along?” Daisy asks, turning her head slightly, her lips just inches from mine.

“Plan?” I question, struggling with the need to press my lips against hers and fuck her mouth with my tongue, but realising that now is not the time given her question.

“Yes, take me to see my favourite movie, ply me with sweet treats, and kiss me in a darkened cinema?” she continues softly, though there’s no heat to her words like on previous occasions, just curiosity.

“I swear, I didn’t have a plan. All I know is that I really want to kiss you right now.”

“The other night you didn’t,” she murmurs.

“That was different,” I retort.

“Perhaps,” she replies as our lips brush, nothing more than a whisper of skin on skin, but it’s enough to light me up like a blazing inferno.

I itch to claim her mouth, this need growing with every passing second. Just like the night of our engagement party, and the kiss we shared at Bandits Bar, everything fades into the background. The only sound is my blood pulsing in my ears, and her soft, popcorn-sweetened breath mingling with mine.

Kiss her, damnit.

I don’t. I wait.

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