Page 21 of The Rogue and His Flower

"As much as I love you, Drix, I can't actually breathe," she laughs after a moment, and he pulls back apologising, a sheepish look on his face which soon turns serious.

Gripping her shoulders, he says, "If at any point it gets to be too much, you come home, okay? No matter the consequences. You come home."

I flinch at the intensity of the unspoken accusations in Drix’s tone, but I can’t fault him for it. He’s protective of Daisy, always has been, and I know he’d willingly suffer the consequences if she were to break the contract.

"I love you," she retorts.

"Love you too," he replies.

With that, she unravels herself from Drix’s arms and pulls open the passenger door, shutting it quietly behind her.

"Don't let me down, Dalton," Drix warns.

I can’t respond with words, knowing how feeble they’d sound, so instead I give him a terse nod, then twist on my heel and climb into the car too. Moments later we’re pulling out of his drive and speeding towards a chaotic future that neither of us can avoid.

Beside me, Daisy sits quietly, her fingers tapping nervously on her thigh as she stares out of the window. The silence between us is thick with uncertainties, and I can’t help but steal glances at her from the corner of my eye, taking in her profile against the passing scenery. The winter sun shines through the strands of her unruly curls, illuminating them in a warm glow,and her soft lips are tipped down at the corner as though weighted with her unhappiness.

“You good?” I ask, knowing it’s a stupid question as a solitary tear slides down her cheek. Of course she isn’t.

She swipes at her face. “I’ll be fine,” she whispers.

My fingers tighten on the steering wheel, feeling ill-equipped to deal with her emotions as my brain scrambles to come up with something reassuring, but before I can open my mouth she breaks the silence between us.

“I’ve been thinking about this…”

“This?”

“Us, I mean,” she corrects, blowing out a tremulous breath.

“Go on,” I urge, thankful that I don’t have to bluster my way through trying to reassure her that everything is going to be okay when we both know it’s going to be a shitstorm.

“I know this isn’t what either of us wanted,” she begins, her voice steady despite the tears still lingering on her lashes, “But I believe we can at least try to make the best of this situation.”

“How?”

“By putting some rules in place, setting some boundaries between us.”

“This is about what happened at the spa, isn’t it?”

“Partly, and at the restaurant,” she adds, eyeing me.

I grit my jaw, nodding. “I overstepped.”

What I don’t say is that I wanted nothing more than to make her come. I wanted to watch her face flush with pleasure, I wanted to feel her pussy contract around my fingers as she came. I wanted to taste her skin, kiss her lips, fuck her mouth with my tongue. Should I want that? No, absolutely fucking not, would I have risked everything to take it regardless if she hadn’t stopped me, emphatically yes.

“But also because I feel we need to make things crystal clear, for both our sakes,” she continues on, oblivious to my thoughts.

“We’ve already signed a contract with a long list of stipulations we must follow, and you want to add even more?” I ask, a tinge of annoyance in my tone.

“This is different. This will be something we can both agree on, an addendum if you will. We’ve got to find a way to live together, right?”

I nod slowly, processing her words. Maybe she’s right. Maybe setting some boundaries will help us to navigate this unconventional arrangement. Then again, I’m not particularly good at respecting someone’s boundaries, that much is clear already. Still, I humour her.

“Okay, I’m listening,” I say, stealing another glance at her. “What do you have in mind?”

“First off,” she begins, her voice gaining confidence with every moment that passes, “We need to communicate, no matter how difficult or awkward it might feel. Agreed?”

“I’ll try,” I offer, knowing that’s about as likely as me ripping up the contract and living the rest of my life as a pauper.

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