Page 92 of The Rogue and His Flower

Raw. Confused. Fucking lost.

“Can I hold you?” I blurt out, needing to pull her close, not understanding why, but wanting to hold her more than anything.

This isn’t what I do. I don’t hold women in comfort after sex. I avoid affection like it’s the fucking plague, but right now Iwantto hold her. I need reassurance, and that’s something I’ve never,ever, needed before. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Of course,” she replies gently, pressing her body against mine as I wrap my arms around her back. She leans her cheek against my bare chest, her warm breath causing goosebumps to scatter over my skin as her arms circle my waist.

“Jesus,” I whisper under my breath as I try and fail to make sense of my emotions.

“What?” She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine.

“It’s nothing,” I say, dropping my head and pressing my lips against her forehead in a tender kiss, my thoughts reeling. I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing, what the fuckI’mdoing.

“Okay,” she whispers, but we both know that something fundamental has shifted between us and neither of us are ready to face what that means.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

DAISY

“This is the amusement arcade,” I point out as Dalton wraps his arm around my waist and grins, his cheeks a little pink from the chill evening air as we step inside the building.

It’s the first time we’ve been able to have some alone time together after having sex a few days ago, and whilst I love the arcade, it wasn’t where I was expecting him to take me when he said we were going out on a date. I’m pleasantly surprised.

“It is,” he agrees, guiding me towards the machine that churns out coins when you insert a note. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, sliding a fifty pound note into the machine, the sound of children’s laughter and childish squeals lifting up into the air around us.

“I love the amusement arcade,” I say, smiling.

“I know that too,” he replies, gathering up the coins into two separate cups and handing me one. “I thought we could have a competition.”

“A competition?”

“Yes, whoever wins the most tickets gets to choose what we do next,” he explains, wiggling his brows in the most ridiculously cute way that I can’t help but laugh. Dalton has never been cute.He’s suave, charming, sure, but never cute. Today he’s revealing a playful side that I never knew existed. It looks good on him.

“You do realise that I spent my childhood in this place?”

“Maybe so, but I’m very competitive, and I’m not about to lose,” he warns with a smirk, tucking his wallet back into his pocket, grabbing my hand and dragging me over to the motorcycle video game where two kids are arguing over which bike they get to ride on.

“Wait, no fair, you have an advantage,” I protest.

“I’ll try not to lap you more than twice,” he replies, smirking, before turning his attention to the young boys still bickering, and tapping the older one on the shoulder. “Hey, I’ll give you ten pounds each if you let us go first.”

“Ten pounds?Each?” the boy repeats, eyes widening.

“Yes,” he replies, pulling out two crisp, ten pound notes from his wallet.

They snatch them from his hand, grinning, before running off to the coin machine.

“Are you going to do that all night long, pay off the kids so we can go first?”

“I’m not a particularly patient man, Daisy,” he replies with a shrug.

“You’re incorrigible,” I reply, choosing the red bike over the blue one.

“Hey, I wanted the red bike,” Dalton says, popping out his bottom lip in faux disappointment.

I reach up and tug on it. “Too bad, too sad. Now come on, sling your leg over the bike, and prepare to get your arse whipped.”

“I think you’ll find that it will be you who’ll be getting your arse whipped if you lose,” he replies, and there’s not a hint of a smile on his face as he gives me a salacious look. His eyes drop tomy legs, my pink woollen skirt having ridden up over my knee to reveal my deep purple stockings.

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