Cousins (Cousins #2) (15 page)

"Do you really like that piece of white toast or are you just using him to make me angry?"

"I don't like what you're insinuating. Once again you think that the world revolves around you, and that I have nothing better to do than to plot and plan how I'm going to drive you crazy. I'm trying to build a life Roman. My career. I don't want to be forty and miserable in a dead end computer job. I have dreams and plans that are way bigger than that, and trying to make you jealous isn't one of them."

"People can build a business and a relationship at the same time, Elizabeth. People do it everyday. It's not an either or situation. Or at least it doesn't have to be."

"Well let me put it this way, if I were to ever find the time to have a social life, it would definitely be with someone like Jagger. He's sweet, good looking–"

"Boring and boring."

"Smart and respectful–"

"Plus it's a shame about that broken collarbone of his."

"What broken collarbone?" I ask alarmed.
 

"The one he'll get if you ever say that shit about him again to me." He grins.

"That's not funny, Roman."

"Come down below deck, I want to show you something."

"Show me what?" I ask skeptically.

"Nothing like that. I promised you I wouldn't touch you didn't I?"

He has been keeping his word. He hasn't once tried to touch my ass, my breasts, or even play with my hair.

Not once.

"All right."

We head downstairs into a sort of living room, lounge area below deck. There's long built-in fiberglass board seating along both sides of the boat, which are decorated with lots of down-filled throw pillows in variations of blue and sea green. In the middle of the built-in couches is a round polished metal table that seems to be bolted into the floor of the boat. On the table are three gift-wrapped boxes that I've never seen before.

"What are those?" I ask confused.

"These are for you."

"Whaaaat?"

"For launching your app. Just a few gifts to say congrats."

"Uh … that's really nice of you but–"

"Just open them." He waves me off. "Don't make more out of it than it is."

It doesn't take me longer than ten seconds to turn into a ten year old kid. Of course I select the biggest box to open first, because when you're a kid, bigger is always better right?

I open the first box and the first thing I see is a second soft pink colored box inside decorated with black satin ribbon. The lettering on the box reads Agent Provocateur. A store I've never heard of. Inside the pink box are layers of nicely folded black tissue paper; and wrapped inside are three exquisite lace bras with matching underwear as well as a corset and garter belt.
 

What's unusually pretty about all of the lingerie pieces is that they are all colored black and mustard yellow. It can't be a coincidence. He must have remembered that yellow is my favorite color. They're gorgeous.
 

I don't know much about fine lingerie, because I don't have the type of money to buy panties outside of Target or Walmart, but I definitely know that these are expensive. I can tell by the quality of the lace. The silk of the panties. And how the name of the brand sounds–Agent Provocateur. Exclusive. Elegant. It's pretty clear that Roman spent a lot of money. That's why internal panic alarms are already sounding off in my head by the gesture.

"Before you say anything, I think that every woman should own at least one set of matching lace underwear. A woman's body is a work of art and lingerie frames it beautifully. So please accept my gift."

I take a huge gulp of liquid courage and then respond.

"I totally get that you have a deep appreciation for the woman's body, and thank you for the gesture, but you're doing a really bad job of sticking to our no date agreement. No guy gives his friend lingerie. No man buys his cousin lingerie."

"This is not a date. I promise you. I simply remembered our conversation about how you didn't own any matching underwear and thought you might like them. End of story."

"So it's a mercy gift for the poor girl with mismatched underwear?"

"No, Elizabeth." He sighs. "It's just a gift."

He sounds like he means it, like it's the truth, yet there's something about hearing the words just a gift that seems unsettling. Maybe I wish he didn't mean it … so much?

"Okay."

"Open the next one." He orders eagerly.

I open the next box and take a soft gasp. Inside is a brand new Macbook Pro. The same laptop I'm pretty sure Roman just bought for Joseph when we were at the store earlier.

"How many laptops did you buy today, Daddy Warbucks?"

"Just one."

"One? What about Joseph's?"

"Joseph would never use a new laptop unless he's absolutely forced to. I bought it for you. You were caressing it like you wanted to make love to it in the store." He chuckles. "So I thought it made sense for you to have your own, since you'll be setting up all the other computers to talk to each other. You should be able to talk to them with your own computer too right? No big deal."

No big deal?

"Well you're right about one thing. This will definitely help with the speed of the project, and I'm sure you can write it off as a business expense right?"

It makes me feel better knowing that Roman can at least write this expensive gift off. An employee expense. So it's not really a gift, because this is not really a date.

"Exactly."

"How did you get it wrapped so fast? I was with you the whole time?"

"Captain Dex wrapped it while we were on deck."

"How much did you have to pay him to do that menial task?"

He ignores that question.

"Keep unwrapping."

The third box is the smallest. It's the shape of a thin, rectangle. Like a box you would use to gift women's gloves. I can't believe my watering eyes at what's inside.

Money … Seventeen thousand frackin' dollars!

The exact amount stolen from me.

"Roman!"

"Listen first," he orders. "If you were a client of mine, Elizabeth, I would have tracked down all three of those douchebags, squeezed their throats for that seventeen thousand plus fucking interest, and then I would have put them in the ground, or make them at least wish they were dead. You say you really don't know what I do for a living. Well that's basically what I do.

"But since you aren't my client, and since I know that isn't your style, I'm doing the next best thing to rectify the situation. If Joseph knew about the money, he would have made you take it from him. So I'm just doing what families do. Take care of their own."

I try to speak, but he puts a finger up to silence me and continues talking.

"Now you can go do whatever the fuck it was you were going to do with the money. You're not beholden to Joseph or Juliette, your parents, or even waiting on the angel investor. You can move out of the house if you want. Or if you stay, then at least it will be on your terms. Not because you feel like you have no other options."

I am utterly speechless.

I don't know who this is sitting in front of me right now. I feel like I'm seeing a different Roman. Another layer. And it's not because of the gifts, but it's because of the thought that went behind them. The effort to make me happy. It's making me seriously consider breaking my own no date rule.

That's when I climb on top of Roman straddling his lap.

He's already hard, and it takes everything in me to not start riding his bulge right away. His hands instinctively hold me around my waist so I won't fall; and his breaths seem just as ragged as mine are shallow.

"I thought we were going to keep this Rated-G tonight, Duchess?"

"What about PG-13, Masterson?"

Roman grins.

"I should buy you shit more often if this is how you're going to react."

Our bodies start to rock in tandem with the movement of the boat. Together we feel like a lone buoy in the middle of the water.
 

Alone.

Erotic.
 

Peaceful.
 

Roman motions silently for me to raise my arms and then he lifts my shirt above and over my head and tosses it across the room. He slides the cups of my bra down so that my breasts are on display and my nipples pop free. As soon as the air hits them they become hard as diamonds.

Roman leans me back a bit, but makes sure to hold me so that I'm stable on his lap; he licks his lips, then clamps his mouth down on my right breast. Using just the right amount of suction, he elicits a groan from me that pleases him. I can feel him smiling with my nipple still in his mouth.

"Tell me what you want Duchess." He says with his mouth full of boob.

He knows I'm not a talker. It's like I have marbles in my mouth when it comes to dirty talk. I'm too nervous to say what I really want. I'm not sure if it's a confidence issue or just a I haven't done this before issue, but I just feel like everything I say is going to be stupid. So I don't say anything.

Roman pulls his mouth off of my breast, pops his head up, and stares me straight on with a serious look across his face.

"Tell me what you want. Do you want me?"

Do I?

"I … think so."

"Do you think so or do you know so?"

"I know it."

"You know what I'm asking you right?"

I stay silent while Roman kneads my thighs with his strong hands and continues to speak.

"I know you want this dick right now, and I'm ready to give it to you long and deep, and for as long as you ask nicely; but I'm talking about after tonight, Duchess. Do. You. Fucking. Want. Me?"

I swallow nervously and thickly as a thin trickle of sweat rolls down my back. I feel as if my back is against the wall by the question. I guess that's why it seems as if the temperature has risen a hundred degrees in this damn boat. If I tell him yes then I'm afraid what that means moving forward. What will I tell my friends and my family? That I'm dating my cousin?
 

And If I tell him no? Well … that I'm more afraid of. What if he never wants anything to do with me again? Just the thought of no Roman in my life is making me nauseous. Can I take that risk?

"I need a little more time."

"How much more?" He growls in that irresistible gravelly voice I've grown to crave like my next breath.

Before I can answer, his mouth is back on my breast. This time the left one. The sensitive one that when pleasured makes me say yes, please, and thank you to almost any frackin' thing.

"Not a lot." I say breathlessly.

Roman slides his hands inside the back of my jeans and inside my panties where he begins to massage my ass.
 

"I love this ass."

"I know you do." I squirm.

I can feel his thick middle finger start to travel downward and slide along the crack of my ass. My rocking starts to pick up pace as I grind against the enormous bulge in his pants. He continues to apply slight pressure to my opening with his finger as I ride him harder and harder.

This is a new sensation for me; and it's a combination of utter bliss and embarrassment. If he keeps this up much longer I'm going to come right inside my cotton panties. I never even considered that I might like someone touching me in such a private place. I pray that he doesn't want to talk about it afterwards. Roman likes that. To talk afterwards about what I liked and what I didn't like whenever we've been intimate.

"You want to come, Duchess?" He says in a way that's dripping in the promise of a long night of orgasms.

"Not yet."

"Not yet what."

"Not yet, Masterson."

"Whose ass does this belong to?" He rumbles.

I don't respond.
 

I just moan in frustration. I want him to stop frackin' talking. I don't want to come yet. I want to ride it out until the last possible–

Too late.

He takes his hand out of my pants and gives my ass a loud whack, and I literally start sobbing as I come. That's how spectacular that orgasm just felt.

"Masterson." I whisper reverently as I wrap my arms around his neck and lay my head on his chest.

"Yes baby?"

"I'm afraid."

"I know, but I've got you. I will never let anything bad happen to you or to us. I just want to make you happy or at least die trying."

What does one say to that? Women wait a lifetime to hear a man say those words.

"Can you give me a little more time?"

"And then will you come to me?"

"Yes."

"Then get up and strip. Let's seal this new deal between us the right fucking way. With you riding my cock until we get back to shore."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ELIZABETH