The Cousins Series Boxed Set

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "I didn't feel like returning your text."

  Roman slams his hand against the wall above my head again in aggravation. He's got the nerve to be really angry. The nerve!

  Then he briskly rubs over the top of his closely shorn head with his palm in utter aggravation. As if he has no clue what part he's played in what's happened tonight. He can't honestly be that stupid. Oops, there goes that word again I chuckle under my breath.

  "What the fuck is so funny, Elizabeth!"

  "You're funny."

  "There is nothing funny whatsoever about what happened tonight."

  "You're right. This night hasn't been fun at all."

  I'm sure he's going to lie. He's going to turn it around on me and try to make me out like I'm some crazy girlfriend. Which is how I kind of feel right about now. Like some trashy, jealous, maniac that you see on reality television.

  "I saw you," I say in an accusatory way.

  "Saw me what?"

  "Who were you talking to all night?"

  "Plenty of people. Half of the people here are clients I've done work for at some point or another, so what are you talking about? I don't speak crazy."

  "You're hilarious," I say sarcastically. "The blonde, Roman. The blonde."

  All of a sudden his facial expression changes and a wide grin spreads across his face as if he's had some sort of delightful epiphany.

  "You're jealous?"

  He brings one of his hands down off of the wall and begins to lightly caress my face. My reflexes are a little slow, but I do my best to smack it away.

  "All of this because of her?" he continues grinning.

  "You didn't talk to me all night, but you had plenty of things to say to her. I saw her talking about me too. Admit it!"

  He doesn't flinch at my words. In fact, all he does is continue to allow his hand to travel down the length of my body until it lands on my butt. He starts rubbing his strong hand in a circular motion and then intermittently kneads each cheek. It's just a light massage, nothing too erotic, but it feels so good that my eyes almost close in rapture.

  I missed his touch desperately. I don't ever want to be without it again.

  "You're not making any sense, baby. You're drunk. Let me take you home, take care of you properly, and when you sober up I'll tell you all about Kat."

  He had me up until he said the name.

  Kat.

  There's something about him saying her name out loud that sickens me. It's a nickname. Like he knows her well. Like there's a story behind the name.

  Women drool and fawn over Roman all the time. At the club. When we go out to eat. When we take Mr. Tibbs for a walk. When we go to the grocery store. That's nothing new to me. I don't like it, but I'm used to it, and I had to get used to it if I was going to be with him.

  But this woman is different. She wasn't fawning over Roman or begging for his attention. She didn't need to. He was totally focused on her tonight, and she was quite comfortable being on the receiving end. As if she was quite used to his attentions.

  "I don't want you to take me home."

  "It wasn't really a request. I'm taking you home."

  "Last time I checked, this was a free country, and I have choices."

  "You sound like a twelve-year-old right now."

  "You like to rub the asses of twelve year olds?" I say sarcastically.

  He instantly drops his hands.

  "Are you fucking serious right now? All this because I talked to one woman who I've known half my life, when you practically got me jumped tonight by three juice heads?"

  "No, this is all because I wouldn't let you fuck me in my office with Blake in the other room. Isn't that how we really got here?"

  "That prick again."

  "This isn't about Blake. This is about how you can't stomach hearing the word no. That and the fact that you don't trust anyone. Not even me."

  "That's funny. You actually talking about trust issues?"

  "I've turned my entire life upside down to be with you, Roman. My parents think I'm some sort of rebellious black sheep. They're waiting for me to come to my senses, meet a nice accountant, move back home and marry him. I've been putting all of my trust in you, but now I'm not so sure I made the right decision when you act like this."

  Roman grabs my face forcibly with his right hand, tilts it up, and moves his face as close as he can to mine without our faces touching. I can smell and feel his breath. An intoxicating whiff of chocolate and cognac floats over me.

  "We had an argument. You said some things I didn't like. I was being a dick about it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let it go this long, baby."

  I almost crumble when he uses that term of endearment, but I know that it's just the liquor breaking down my defenses.

  Remember Kat, Elizabeth.

  "You were talking to that woman on every floor of the gala," I shake my head, "I don't know."

  Roman holds my face tightly and pulls it in closely to his. "Were you spying on me all night, Duchess? Because I have to tell you, the fact that you were is turning me the fuck on."

  He bends down and presses his granite hard pelvis up and against mine. Even though my tight dress won't allow him to position himself completely in between my legs, I can feel him. Every solid inch. He's not lying. He is turned on, and God help me so am I, but I refuse to let my hormones distract me.

  That's the liquor messing with you, Elizabeth. Stay focused.

  "I saw everything," I say.

  "What do you think you saw, baby?"

  He starts inching up my dress by the hem. I don't think anyone can see us in this dimly lit corner of the room, but I look around anyway. The last thing I need is to get caught fooling around with my cousin at my aunt's fundraising event. I can tell by the look on his face that he's surprised to find me commando.

  "No panties a-fucking-gain?" He says in a thick and needy voice.

  Ignore that, Elizabeth.

  "You were smiling and laughing. You touched her. You had your hand on her back. Damn near her ass. You were looking at her the way you sometimes look at me. It was ... disgusting."

  "The way I look at you is disgusting?" he chuckles as one of his hands begins caressing my butt. His fingers teasing the crack of it.

  "You think this is funny?"

  I'm seriously offended.

  "I think it's very funny."

  "Then you're an even bigger ass than I gave you credit for. Just be a man and tell me who she is."

  "Be a man, huh."

  "Yes, be a–"

  He slides his middle finger inside of me while staring at me with great intensity. I'm drenched, so it's real easy for him to do, but I try my best not to clench down on it like my body normally automatically does. I don't want to give him the satisfaction ... or myself.

  "You're always soaking wet for me, but tonight you're like a waterfall," he says in awe.

  "Well I haven't had sex in a while, so just talking to the bartender probably made me wet."

  He doesn't like what I said and as punishment abruptly inserts a second finger inside of me. I moan shamelessly. Even in anger, his touch feels entirely too good to stay silent.

  "That mouth, Elizabeth," he growls as he moves his fingers in and out of me at a languid pace. "It's going to get you in all sorts of trouble."

  "So, stop then," I say half-heartedly and still half drunk. "Let's go back to barely speaking. I liked things a lot better that way, and you were so good at it."

  He removes his fingers making sure to skim my walls with the curve of them on his way out. Then drops to his knees and asks me a rhetorical question.

  "Do you really want me to stop?"

  Roman slides my dress back up, but farther this time. Now its hiked up to my waist and his mouth is so close to my exposed pussy, that I don't even care that I'm in a public place.

  "I need the words, Duchess."

  He spreads me open and licks me from back to front and then he waits.

  "This isn't the place for
this."

  "I disagree. This is exactly the time and the place. In fact, if I had my way I'd toss your pretty ass, naked, across that bar top over there and have every one of these fine people watch me eat you for the next fucking hour."

  Roman pulls my thighs wide apart, then pushes his face in between my legs, and devours me. Biting and sucking my clit, then licking me clean as if it's the most delicious thing he's had all day.

  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.