Page 85 of The Rogue and His Flower

“Damn!” he mutters, still holding onto me, still caught up in the eddying attraction connecting us.

“No more, please,” I beg this time, needing him to step back, to give us both space.

Dalton grits his jaw and with one firm nod of his head, releases me. Stepping back, he swipes a trembling hand through his hair.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, eyes wild as a range of emotions scatter across his face.

“It was just a kiss,” I whisper, knowing I’m lying, wondering why I am.

“It was more than a kiss, Daisy,” he counters, exhaling heavily.

And he’s right, because it wasn'tjust a kiss. He didn’t steal it, we didn’t kiss for show, we kissed because we wanted to, andthat changes things. How stupidly foolish was I to think that giving in would lead to anything other than messy, complicated, heartache? Kissing is a prelude to something deeper, a taste of how good sex with Dalton could be. It’s a stark reminder of the stipulations detailed in our contract, and everything I said I didn’t want.

Except now? Now, I want more.

CHAPTER TWENTY

DALTON

The next couple of days pass in a blur of wedding preparations and work commitments. Daisy and I have fallen into a frustrating new rhythm, and I’m trying my best to navigate our complicated relationship without fucking it all up. Since that kiss, we’ve reverted to circling each other, not knowing how to act, whether to reach out and hold on, or to sink back into what’s familiar. That kiss was like the fucking sun parting a storm cloud, shining so brightly that I’m blinded by everything but the memory of it.

We’ve gone from enemies, to frenemies, to friends, to people who’ve kissed each other in anger, like lovers, who’ve kissed each other like itmeantsomething. My head is spinning, and truth be known, I’ve avoided bringing it up, knowing that whatever lies beyond that kiss is too fucking scary for me to truly contemplate. All I’m capable of doing is work, and when I’m not working I’m counting down the days to when we get married, wondering what the fuck that’s going to look like now that we’ve stepped over that line Daisy drew in the sand weeks ago when we signed the contract. In just a few week’s time she’ll be my wife, and the thought makes that possessive part inside of me prowl like a caged fucking animal.

To make matters even more excruciating, my attraction to Daisy has grown exponentially, and now that I’ve had a taste of the woman who, for a few blissful moments, kissed me back with as much hunger as I kissed her, I can’t think of anyone else.

Believe me I’ve tried.

I’ve whacked off multiple times a day like a fucking hormonal teenager to try and temper these confusing feelings and curb my raging desire. Every time I force myself to think of other women, but each time I try, Daisy filters into my mind, and I come hard only to thoughts of her.

Whilst I’m well aware that abstaining from sex has complicated matters for me, there’s this niggle deep inside that tells me this attraction is more than just my need to fuck. It’s infuriating. It’s complicated. It’s fucking scaring the shit out of me.

“Mr Gunn, is there anything I can get you before I retire for the evening?” Fraser, our longest standing member of staff, asks as he steps into my office and jolts me from my thoughts.

I flick my gaze to my watch, noticing that it’s almost ten o’clock in the evening, and I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’ll be finishing up soon.”

“Very well, Sir,” he replies.

“Have you seen Daisy this evening?” I ask before he’s able to leave.

“Briefly. She was watching television in the cinema room an hour ago. Though when I checked a few minutes ago, the lights were off. I suspect she has gone to bed.”

“Okay, thank you,” I reply, dropping my gaze back to my laptop as he exits the room.

By the time I head to bed, it’s past midnight, and I’m exhausted from a long day of non-stop work, and a painful erection that has kept my body in a constant state of arousal. I’m ready to take a shower and relieve some of the building tensionwhen I pass by Daisy’s room and hear a soft moan. The door’s slightly ajar, her bed-side lamp casting a warm glow through the crack in the door, and my feet still as I strain to listen.

When her moaning gets louder, concern for Daisy gets the better of me, and I cautiously open the door, stepping into her room and expecting to find her in the throes of a nightmare.

Except she’s not in bed.

The covers are thrown back and the door to her en-suite is open. I pause, listening intently, but when she moans again, the sound of her pleasure is unmistakable.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my whole body tensing as I realise what she’s doing.

I know I should leave, that I should turn on my heel and get the hell out of her room, but my body is refusing to listen to sense. This time the thought of Daisy pleasuring herself is too much of a temptation to ignore.

Creeping closer to her bathroom door, I’m pulled inexorably towards her, and despite the warning voice screaming at me to get the fuck out, I do the exact opposite. Quietly stepping into the bathroom, my heart is in my throat as my gaze falls to her naked body. She’s soaking in the bath, her eyes pressed shut as the water laps at her skin, her hand between her legs. Stunned by the sensual vision before me, all I can do is stare. Daisy’s mouth is parted as she leisurely strokes her pussy, making my already hard cock desperate for relief. The sight of her in this vulnerable, yet incredibly sexy state has me rooted to the spot, struggling to rip my gaze away.

She’s fucking stunning.

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