Cousins (Cousins #2)

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "Finish up your food and let's go." Roman says to me.

  "Where are we going?"

  I'm not sure what I'm doing at this point. Am I going to still go job hunting? Should I really do this computer thing for them? I mean it was Joseph asking me to do it, and I'm sleeping in his damn house rent-free. So maybe I should.

  "To finish having a sensible discussion about how you're going to build us a network."

  "Why can't we finish having our discussion here?" I ask.

  Roman gives me the side eye before he responds.

  "How can you make a decision on whether or not you want the job if you haven't even seen what it entails. I'm taking you by the clubs to see the computers."

  "Oh that's a good idea, Roman." My aunt says in a lighter tone.

  She's back to flittering around the kitchen, wiping the counters, and pouring herself a glass of grapefruit juice while my uncle watches her ass very, very closely.

  Eww.

  I can see that it probably may be a good idea to leave, because it seems as if my aunt has some morning sex coming her way in the very immediate future. And I swear she might have a Masterson style punishment coming her way too for interfering in his business with Roman or for throwing that fork at him. Something tells me that father and son are much more alike than I ever imagined.

  So on that note, I take my last bite of quiche and excuse myself from the table. After that visual, I'll do anything to get out of here.

  "Let's go."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ELIZABETH

  It's quiet in the car.

  Not because Roman is angry, but because he appears to be thinking very pensively about something. Knowing him … it's probably about how he plans on spreading my legs in the next thirty minutes.

  Or maybe that's wishful thinking on my part.

  "Have you heard anything from the investment group?"

  "Not yet."

  "The glamazon is dating one of them right?"

  "Not exactly. She used to date him."

  "And what happened?"

  "Well you know who her father is right?"

  "Should I?"

  "Her last name is Pearson. Her father is Dan Pearson, the famous point guard for the Sixers in the nineties and a few other teams at the tail end of his career."

  "I don't follow basketball, but I know who you're talking about. Old dude from back in the day. A commentator on ESPN right?"

  "Yes … that old dude." I affirm wryly. "Well the guy in the investment group seemed to only be dating Sloan to get close to her father. I don't know if he wanted to manage Mr. Pearson's portfolio or if he just has some sort of man crush on him; but as soon as Sloan figured it out, she cut him immediately off."

  "Yet he's still helping out by getting you a meeting with his boss?"

  "I guess he's trying to earn his way back into her circle of trust."

  "Well he's doing a piss poor job at it. Someone should have called you by now."

  I sigh.

  "It hasn't even been that long, Roman, and it's a big decision. They just can't invest money into every entrepreneur that crosses their path. They have to be selective. While I am hopeful, I didn't even expect to hear from them yet. Mr. Lambert already warned me that it was going to be a lengthy decision process."

  "Please." Roman scrunches up the side of his face.

  "Why are you being so frackin' negative?"

  Roman takes a long pause before he responds. Then he turns to me with a hard lined face. I swear his scar just got bigger.

  "Did it ever occur to you to ask me for the fucking money, Elizabeth?"

  "Not really."

  "You said that real quickly." He begins to mimic my voice. "Not really."

  "Are you honestly angry with me right now?" I ask flabbergasted.

  "Hell fucking yeah. I don't understand you. If you're a businesswoman, you've made a grave error in not tapping into the resources right under your cute little nose. You'll let me lick that pussy clean, but you won't let me give you a little money to invest in your business?"

  My core convulses from his crude choice of words. I hate that I actually want him in between my legs doing just that, right in the middle of him berating me.

  "You're being ridiculous right now."

  "And what the fuck was up with all of that grand standing in the house?"

  "What are you talking about, Roman?"

  "You don't want to work for a nut ball? Don't you think you're pouring it on a little too thickly? My father isn't an idiot. This whole I hate Roman act is completely unbelievable. "

  "Is it?"

  "Don't be a smart ass."

  "I can't help it. God gave me this brain."

  "God gave you that ass too, but that doesn't mean I won't smack it."

  "Like your father did to Juliette today?"

  "Thanks. That's a real nice visual, Elizabeth."

  I laugh out loud hoping that I can change the mood in the car between us. But he's still wearing that serious face of his.

  "Why do you want a job, Elizabeth? I mean why right now?"

  "Because some drug dealers stole my entire life savings and I'm broke." I say with sarcasm. "Could that be why?"

  "It could be, but it isn't. I'm an expert on runners, Elizabeth. People have been running from me my whole life."

  "Because you scare the heck out of people."

  He ignores that comment.

  "You're running. You think I don't know that you are trying to get your hands on some more money so that you can leave my father's house. So that you don't have to see me everyday. As if that is going to stop a damn thing."

  "Since when does looking for a job constitute a frackin' secret mission to get the heck away from you? Everything is not about you, Roman. I know that's hard for you to believe, considering you have women falling all over your ass at any given second but wake up. I'm looking for a job because regular folks need to work to pay bills."

  "You think I don't work?!" He barks incredulously.

  "I don't know what the frack you do."

  "Stop saying that goddamn word!"

  Roman slows his Range Rover down and begins to parallel park into a tight spot in front of a storefront with burnt orange fabric awnings that read Solstice in white and pale yellow lettering. It's obvious that it is some sort of restaurant/lounge, but it doesn't seem like a business that Joseph or Roman would own.

  It appears to be closed to the public, but I think I see at least one guy inside milling about. Probably the manager.

  "Why can't I say frack?" I ask as calmly as I can in an effort to piss Roman off even further. And it does.

  "Right now I'm going to need you to shut the frack up, while I show you the two old ass computers we have in the office of Solstice; which is our tapas lounge by the way. Because if you don't, if you say one more smart ass thing, Elizabeth, I'll fuck you long and hard in that office instead. Loud enough for Jason to hear. And I won't give two shits about it."

  "Who's Jason?" I ask in a flirty way. I know I'm skirting the danger zone, but I can't help it. He's making it too easy.

  Roman takes several long deep breaths while he begins to slowly eye fuck me. If I don't watch it he's going to bang my brains out right inside the back of this truck on this busy commercial block.

  A text comes in on my phone. I break eye contact with Roman to take a short glance at it.

  Jagger: You stood me up:(

  I look quickly back up at Roman, and he's staring at my fingers resting on the letters of the keyboard of my phone. I look back down and quickly thumb type.

  Me: So sorry. Something–

  Before I can finish texting my lame excuse about why I left Jagger hanging in the restaurant with Sloan and her boy toy for the evening, Roman snatches the phone away and reads the texts.

  "Give me my phone back!" I yell as I reach over to grab it from his hand. He raises his arm higher.

  "Nope." He grins.

  "Stop playing." I argue.


  "Nope. Nada. Negative. Uh-uh."

  "Roman!"

  "I'm going to text him back that you're so sorry, but that you are being so well fucked by your cousin that there's no need to take this shit any further."

  He raises his hand higher and out the window. My phone could literally drop on the sidewalk if he slips up, and my screen would shatter into little tiny pieces.

  He's such a big dang kid.

  "Roman, I'm not playing. Give me my phone back. You're such a child sometimes."

  "No baby, I'm all man. You know that better than anyone."

  I roll my eyes after he grips his junk.

  "It's always sex with you isn't it?"

  "What's not to like about sex?"

  "It's just a shame that you're so one dimensional."

  "What the fuck did you just say?"

  It was an intentional jab, but it's the truth. All we have is this fierce sexual chemistry between us with zero substance, because he lacks the ability to think or talk about anything besides sex.

  "All you think about is money and sex. Like some sort of rapper or ball player."

  "First of all you're making some mighty ignorant and sweeping generalizations of two groups of people, which tells me, nerd, that you've had your head in your computer way too long. Secondly, you are very much wrong about me. I'm multi-dimensional and multi-layered. You just don't choose to see it."

  "Is that so?"

  "That is definitely so, Duchess."

  Roman flashes me one of those panty dropping smiles of his that makes me want to spread eagle for him any time, any place, any where.

  So annoying.

  "In fact, once we spend the next hour or so taking a look at all of our retro computers, I want us to do something a little different today."

  "Another job run?" I asked bored.

  "Not this time."

  "Well what then?"

  "We're going to go do one of my favorite things."

  "I think we've done that a few times already." I say drolly.

  "I said one of them. Not my number one favorite thing."

  We both laugh a little.

  Then I stop.

  Roman is staring at me with those coal black eyes like he can see straight inside my soul. I look down and away from him. I guess from embarrassment. I don't know what to make of it when he stares me down like this. Like I'm the only woman breathing. I almost want to believe that it really means something, when I already know that it doesn't.

  "You look fucking sexy as hell today, Duchess. Did I tell you that?"

  Nothing will come out of my mouth, so I shake my head no.

  "I can't hear you baby. I said do you know how fucking sexy you are?"

  "Roman." I say in hopes of quieting him.

  "Lean over here a minute Duchess."

  I close my eyes for a moment while I exhale. I don't lean over, because I know what's coming next. Right on this busy street inside his car. Either his mouth or his hands. I'm not sure which, but something.

  His hands.

  He takes one of his massive palms and wraps it around my neck while his thumb gently rubs the hollow point at the base of my throat.

  "Since you don't know how to follow fucking directions, I'll help you out," he growls.

  He pulls me over to the driver's side of the car with his hand and uses the other to reach inside and underneath my blazer. Caressing the side of my waist.

  Like a Pavlovian dog's response, my mouth starts to water, and my breaths start to become quicker and shallower. I want him in the worst frackin' way. I just do. I always do when he touches me.

  His grip around my neck is firm and territorial and screams of possession. And that's also exactly the way his kiss feels. His tongue begins a familiar slide inside of my mouth, exploring gently, coaxing me to respond to the rhythm of his dips and swirls.

  I don't mean to do it, but a soft moan comes from somewhere inside of me which he seems to really like. I can tell that he is growing hard inside of his jeans. There's that Pavlovian thing again, because now that I know he's hard, I start imagining all sorts of things. Like how hard I would have to work to get that big thing inside of my mouth and work it properly.

  Someone suddenly leans on their car horn and the noise scares the bejeezus out of me, and snaps me out of the total mind frack that Roman was putting me in.

  "We need to stop." I say as I pull away from his grasp.

  "You're right. Let's go inside."

  I think Roman has plans on continuing where he left off inside Solstice, but I'm not going to let that happen. I'm here to possibly work, not play around with him all day.

  "And give me my phone back."

  "Let's come to an understanding first."

  "I'm not negotiating with you about my phone. Give it back right the frack now."

  "So here's the deal–" He begins. Completely ignoring my last statement.

  "I'll give you your phone back under two conditions. Or I don't give you your phone back, and I go through all of your texts and emails and see what kind of mischief I can get into with all of your peeps."

  "I'm going to tell Joseph on you."

  I'm desperate at this point. I don't want to commit to any sort of compromise agreement with this Neanderthal.

  "Go ahead." He leans back into the corner of his seat with a smirk across his face. "Tell him everything. Tell him how just five minutes ago you would have let me do any fucking thing to you in this car, in broad daylight, on one of the busiest streets in the city.

  I can't stand him.

  "What are the conditions asshole."

  "Asshole? I love it! No weird nerd synonyms for that one huh? Just the good old fashioned ass and hole."

  "UGH!" I scream in frustration.

  "All right, Duchess. Calm your pretty little ass down. Here's the deal. I want you to go out on a date with me tonight. A real one. After we do some work today, I want to take you back home, then I want you to shower and get all fucking pretty, and let me take you out.

  "Second, I want you to call pretty boy and break it to him hard, break it to him gently; hell, I don't give a shit. Just break it to that dickhead that you are not available for late night phone calls and FaceTime chats, for swim meets, for dinner, and for whatever else the fuck that kid wants to do with you. And tell him with me in the room when you do it."

  "You must be losing your ever loving mind."

  "What?" He shrugs his shoulders.

  "You're making the demands of a boyfriend. Or of someone that wants to be my boyfriend, which we know very well that you are not nor ever will be."

  "Did I say I wanted to be your boyfriend?"

  Now I'm embarrassed. Did I overreact?

  "No, but I can't give you what you're asking."

  "Why?"

  "I can't go on a date with my own frackin' cousin, Roman!"

  "So that's the part of this deal that's bothering you?"

  "Hell yeah."

  "It's not a date then. I just want to take you to see one of my favorite spots in the city. We'll talk. Then we can grab something to eat or we can go home. We're just hanging out. No fucking around."

  "No sex?"

  "I won't touch you. Plus I want to get tested and assure you that I’m clean before I have you again. Have you the way I really want to. With nothing between us."

  "So no sex really?"

  "You sound disappointed." He chuckles.

  "No … I'm very much fine with that arrangement."

  "Okay, good. And the swimmer?"

  I exhale slowly before I respond. It's actually pretty cruel for me to keep stringing Jagger along as if I'm really interested in him. I mean I like him a lot, but if I'm going to be really honest with myself, I need to get Roman totally out of my system before I commit to a good guy like Jagger. I don't want to hurt him.

  "I'll talk to Jagger, but not on the phone, and not with you in the room. I'm going to meet with him and tell him. He's my friend. Not just some random dude."<
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  "Give me one last kiss since I'm not getting anymore tonight, and I'll agree to that."

  This time when we kiss, Roman's hand reaches back inside my blazer and down the back of my jeans. It's a very tight fit, but he manages to shove his hand down there and squeeze one of my butt cheeks.

  The minute he squeezes is the minute I feel the gush between my legs.

  "Masterson." I whisper.

  "Yes baby?"

  "You're confusing the frack out of me."

  "I know."

  As I continue kissing him, I begin rubbing my hands across his head, because I know he loves this. That's the crazy part about this whole thing. I want to please him. I enjoy it. I'm not sure when that started either.

  Then he pulls back and breaks contact.

  I'm shocked at first, because I'm always the one to stop (if we stop).

  "Let's go inside." He smiles as he motions to exit the truck. "We've got work to do."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ROMAN

  I know what I said the other day about doing all that I had to do to keep Elizabeth moaning my name yada, yada, yada; but truthfully I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Wait, scratch that. I know what the fuck I'm doing; I just don't really understand why I'm doing it.

  What's my end game?

  It was never my plan or intention to take Elizabeth out on a date.

  Ever.

  I don't even go on dates. Who has time for that shit? And up until now it hasn't been an issue. There are plenty of women out here who appreciate a good fuck, just like me and don't want to be tied down. I find them all the time for the most part. Sure there may be a few clingy Carols every once in a while, but you're bound to run into a few bad apples here and there.

  So the fact that I'm sitting here plotting and planning a night out to woo my cousin is somewhat laughable. No let me rephrase that. It's insane.

  We spent the greater part of today visiting all five of the spots Joseph (and I now) own in Philly, and we also called management of the two we own in Manhattan and the one in Miami.

  I got brick fucking hard just watching Elizabeth get busy in her element. Inspecting the old ass desktops, asking the manager's questions about the databases and them staring at her like she was speaking another language. It was all some very smarty pants, sexy shit. And it smelled very much like foreplay to me. If I thought she would have been down for it, I would have fucked her silly in every back room of every location we dropped by today.