Page 98 of The Rogue and His Flower

Our hot breaths steam up the mirror until, eventually, Dalton presses a chaste kiss against my cheek, and withdraws out of me, tucking himself away with shaky hands.

“God-fucking-dammit, that was intense,” he mutters, staring at the ground, unable to meet my eyes as I turn around to face him.

“I’m not sure he’s listening. Pretty sure you’re on his shit list.”

“Shit list?” he questions, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

“For sinning,” I joke, pressing my lips together as I try not to laugh.

“What the hell are you doing to me, Daisy?” he asks, shaking his head. I can’t interpret the look on his face, and my smile fades. It’s though he’s caught somewhere between regret and bliss, confusion and longing.

I can relate to that, because I feel the exact same way. What exactly is happening here?

When we fuck, I’m there with him in the moment, enjoying every second, and yet afterwards there’s this weird, uncertain energy between us. It was the same the other night.

“I could ask the same of you,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper as I ease my bra and top down, before adjusting my underwear and skirt. The woollen material of my skirt feels rough over my sensitive skin, our combined release soaking my knickers.

“Daisy?” he questions, stepping towards me and cupping my cheek, as a deep groove forms between his brows as he frowns.

“What?”

“This is just sex, right, just like we agreed?”

I pause for a moment, trying to dive deep into myself and search for the truth, my feelings as tumultuous as this moment between us appears to be. “It’s just sex,” I finally agree, plastering on a smile.

The relief in his eyes hurts more than it should, given our agreement, yet the way his fingers trace the curve of my jaw almost reverently makes me question everything, the deceiving tenderness igniting a fiery ache in my chest that’s impossible to ignore.

“A man could get used to this,” he murmurs, brushing the pad of his thumb over my lips.

“Get used to what, fucking in a hall of mirrors?” I ask, laughing softly, trying for a lighthearted response.

Dalton chuckles, but the sound is strained. “Yeah.”

“Well it’s just as well, because we’re going to be married soon,” I reply, my heart aching with each word, because despite all the laughter today, the incredible sex, he can’t ever love me.

“Yes we are,” he agrees, and I have to remind myself that we’re just two friends fucking, two people who are contracted to marry each other, and will eventually have a child together.

We’re not in love, but when he drops his mouth to my lips and kisses me with tenderness, my resolve to keep him firmly in the ‘friends who fuck’ category starts to crumble.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

DALTON

“A word, son,” my father calls from his home office as I stride past his door a few days later.

“What now?” I mutter as my footsteps still, resenting how much of my time he’s taken up these past few days with business matters, when all I’ve wanted to do is to spend it with Daisy.

I consider pretending I didn’t hear him. I’ve been walking on cloud fucking nine since my date with Daisy and, despite his attempts, so far he hasn’t managed to ruin my good mood. But I know ignoring my father will only piss him off more, so I turn on my heel and head into his office.

“Yes?”

“Shut the door behind you. Take a seat,” he commands, looking up from his computer screen as he points to the chair opposite him.

“What is it? I have a busy day,” I counter.

“With work?” he questions, seeing right through me, because I have every intention of spending the rest of the day with Daisy.

“Actually, no. I was going to take Daisy out before everything gets too chaotic before our wedding on Saturday,” I retort, meeting his gaze challengingly.

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