Cousins In Love: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 3) (24 page)

There's a live band playing on the first floor, and they're at a part of a familiar song where there's a long drum solo. The drummer is about to reach a part of the solo where he enters a zone. Repeating the same rifts over and over and over. It's intoxicating and primal.
 

So, between the seductive beat of the drummer, the liquor still traveling through my veins, and the sight of this beautiful man on his knees eating me something fierce ... an orgasm rips right through my core.

"Fuck."
 

I slam both of my hands against the wall in an effort to restrain myself from yelling the expletive and drawing the attention of anyone who may be within earshot.
 

I can feel his grin against my sex. He's quite proud of himself, but his smugness wakes me up like a freezing cold glass of water. I've just had a momentary lapse in judgment.
 

"This doesn't change anything," I say adamantly.

Roman stands back up and sighs in aggravation.

"I'm over all the dumb shit we were arguing about. Can we just move on from this now?" he asks while pulling my dress back in place.

"My wounds are still fresh. I'm not over mine quite yet."

"What wounds? Kat is an old friend of the family. I haven't seen her in a while. I was just being cordial."

"For two frackin' hours!"

Roman pulls his head back and takes a long look at me.

"Elizabeth, have you been watching me the entire night? Did you even enjoy yourself at all? Did you do any networking?"

As if he gives a hot damn about me networking. It's not like he tried to introduce me to any of the people he was talking to tonight. If he cared so much, he would have made sure that I met some of those movers and shakers he was so busy chatting up tonight.
 

I don't want to talk about this anymore. He's turning this into some
Elizabeth is a crazy bitch
session, and I'm not doing that. I'm not being irrational. Something about this whole thing doesn't sit right with me.

"As if you care about my business."

"You know I do," he says very seriously.

"I don't know anything anymore." I push against his chest. "I have to pee. Let me out."

"Not until you answer me."

"I have to pee!" I punch him in the gut. He doesn't even flinch.
 

"Then pee right here in this hallway. I don't give a shit. You're not going anywhere."

Jackass.

"Yes, okay! I watched you. It was easy, because everywhere you were, so was she. I grabbed some sushi and saw you two. I went to the pizza station and saw you two again. I sat at the bar with my new friend Patrick the bartender and watched you yet
again
practically kill yourself fawning all over that whore."

"Not a whore," he callously chuckles. "But a
friend
whom I've known since I was a pimply faced kid."

"I don't care. I don't care if you've known her since you came out of your momma's womb. I don't trust you. Not one bit. Not after seeing what I saw. I'm not going to get played for a fool ever again. I'm not!"

"Playing you!" he exclaims. "Is my name fucking Ethan now? Where is this coming from? Drunk or not, this isn't you talking right now." Roman squints his eyes as if he's looking at a complete stranger.

"Oh my God! Are you implying yet again that Sloan put these doubts inside of my head? Was it Sloan who put a gun to your temple and forced you to talk to Kat instead of your
girlfriend
all night? I'm afraid this is all your doing. Leave Sloan out of it once and for all. She's my friend not a puppet master."

"You know what, Elizabeth, you sure as shit
always
have that chick's back. I wish you had mine like that. Trusted me like that. I wish you would've opened up your fucking mouth just once tonight to ask me about Kat, before you jumped to all these conclusions. Before you got pissy drunk and embarrassed yourself."

"I didn't embarrass myself," I say defensively.

"If you don't think Juliette knows how drunk you are, you're sadly mistaken. She has eyes and ears all over this place."

"Well if you think she doesn't know that you just beat up some of her guests then YOU are sadly mistaken. I think that is a little worse than me having a few too many cocktails. Don't you?"

"In defense of my drunk cousin? I don't think so. Plus I pay people to shut eyes and close ears for me. The only thing Juliette will hear about is you tonight, sweetheart."

"I hate you sometimes."

"Take it out on me in bed tonight." He licks the corner of his mouth.

"You'll be lucky if I ever sleep with you again."

"Now you and I both know that's a lie. If you were that angry with me, Elizabeth, you should have pulled me aside tonight and used your big girl words."

"I didn't have a chance to ask you diddly squat about that woman. You've been too busy sniffing behind her ass all night for me to say anything!"
 

"When did I become the bad guy? Have you forgotten that you were the one who asked for some space? I left you alone tonight, because
you
were the one who claimed you needed the distance."

"And you certainly ran with it, didn't you!"

His eyes tighten.
 

Good, he's getting angry.
 

Welcome to the club, jerk.

"All right that's enough. Have I ever led you to believe that I want anyone other than you? I thought that I've been making myself pretty fucking crystal clear these last few months. There is only you, Elizabeth. There will
only
ever be you."

He's trying to make me cry. I know it. He's good at this. He knows how to deflect all the attention away from himself by saying all the right things. Isn't that what fixers do?

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm drunk. I can't think straight," I say.

Actually, I think the alcohol is wearing off. Now I'm just sad and confused.
 

"Well tough titties, because we're not finished talking."

I clamp my lips shut like a pouting child.

"We've been together almost a year, Elizabeth. I know you. You're running. We had one disagreement, which wasn't even that serious, and you immediately go to the extreme and tell me we need time apart.

"Not once over these two weeks did you call me first. Text me first. Think to apologize to me or come to me. You were waiting for me to call you, text you, come after you. Like I always do. Like I'm doing right the fuck now.
 

"And not only that, but you watched me talk to just one woman tonight, and you're acting like you caught me mid stroke, fucking her. Your reaction isn't normal. It doesn't make sense. The only explanation for it is that you are waiting for me to fuck up. Wanting me to fuck up. Biding your time until the shit hits the fan. Looking for an excuse to run. You're pushing me away, and I want to know why. What are you so scared of? Because all I want to do is make you the happiest woman on the fucking earth."

"You're the one doing the pushing," I say in a knee jerk reaction. Tears pooling in my eyes.

But is he really? I actually consider his words for a moment. Is that what I'm doing? Am I subconsciously pushing him away by making poor decisions? Am I picking a fight with him because I'm almost drowning in guilt? I guess there are two words for that: self and sabotage. Problem is I don't know why I'm doing it, if that's in fact what I'm doing.

"This isn't the place for this conversation," he says, his forehead touching mine, "Let me take you home."

I take my thumb and rub briskly at the corner of his chin. The stain slightly rubs off, and it sure as hell isn't ketchup.

"What's this?" I say in an accusatory tone. Angry that I didn't see it before he put his mouth on me.

"Lipstick," he answers matter of factly as if it's nothing.

"So you admit that you two kissed?"

"I did not put my tongue inside of her mouth if that's what you're asking. She gave me a kiss good-bye. Like I said about a hundred times already, she's an old family friend. We greeted and said good-bye to each other as friends normally do."

"Have you ever slept with her?"

"Elizabeth."

"Well, have you?"

"When I was a kid, yes."

Oh. My. God.

I knew there was something more, but I wasn't really expecting him to say yes. I wasn't expecting him to ever flaunt an old lover right under my nose like he did tonight.
 

"Were you her first?"

"No and you're still drunk. I'm tired. Let's talk about this later."

And that response tells me everything I need to know. She means something to him, and he doesn't want to talk about it.
 

I wish that I still had that feeling of being completely out of my body, as I slump back against the wall.
 

But no.
 

I recognize exactly whose heart feels like it's breaking and it's mine.

CHAPTER TWENTY

ROMAN

I'm officially out of control. While I don't for one second regret knocking those steroid pumped jerks on their asses for not minding their business at the gala (especially the one with all the mouth), I admit that I could have handled things a lot differently.
 

I've worked long and hard to learn how to handle things differently. Calmer. Rationally. It's better for business. It's better for me. It's certainly better if I want to maintain a relationship with Elizabeth.

Joseph has been on my ass since I was a kid to master the art of how to punk the shit out of people with words, or money, and not always with violence. But it was a difficult lesson for a boy who spent much of his youth defending himself with his fists. Defending the few friends that I had. Defending my unpredictable and undependable mother. Defending my right to exist and matter in this world. The lesson was especially difficult to learn, because defending myself physically came pretty easily to me. I like easy. Although easy doesn't always mean better.

While I was able to slip out of the fundraiser with Elizabeth in tow, that didn't mean that I didn't leave a mess in my wake. I did. Even though it was a simple bar fight, and I thought my lawyer Ben had it handled, the men I roughed up were special guests of Juliette's. Financial guys or some such bullshit. And they were pissed once their initial embarrassment wore off. They didn't know at first that I was Juliette's stepson, so they went around asking some staff members for my name. Word was that they weren't interested in filing charges against me, but that they wanted blood.
 

Problem is I welcome blood.
 

I was hoping Juliette would give them my name, my address
and
my fucking social security number. I was seriously disappointed when she told them who I was and then politely talked them out of pursuing the matter.
 

That's how I know for sure that I'm spinning out of control, and I'm not entirely sure what can stop me, but I'm going to try like hell to stop. I need to if I want to ever deserve the right to keep Elizabeth by my side.

 
♥
♥
♥

I met Katherine Lee Dixon (Kat for short) when I was thirteen years old, and she was seventeen. Our fathers were longtime friends and we were visiting her home for some sort of business meeting. Business back in those days usually involved drinks, and drinks meant we were staying a while.

The night we met, Kat asked me if I wanted to go watch music videos in her room for a while, and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. I was young and horny, and I was hoping like all hell that "watch music videos" was girl code for "touch my boobs."
 

I was right.

"Have you ever had sex, Roman?"
is what she asked me outright, as she pulled her oversized T-shirt over her head, revealing a pretty pink lace bra underneath. I remember my thirteen-year-old penis getting stiff as a board, which probably had a lot to do with my keen interest in women's lingerie. There was no way I was going to pass up the opportunity of a lifetime by telling her the truth that day, so I lied.

"Yep."

"So you know how to make a girl come then?"

"Don't you know how?"
I asked like an idiot, basically exposing my lie.

She laughed a little and began stroking the side of my face.
 

"It's okay if you don't know what to do, Roman. That's what I'm here for. To teach you. If you want."

I didn't actually think whether I wanted to or not was up for decision or debate. Kat was ready to teach me something about sex whether I was ready or not, because at this point she had her pants off and jumped up on her bed in her bra and matching pink panties.
 

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be taking off my own clothes or helping her take off her underwear. I'd watched plenty of porn by that age, but this was a real world situation, an actual opportunity, and like a punk kid, I froze under the pressure.