Problematic Love (Rogue Series Book 8)

by Lara Ward Cosio

  But . . . I don’t want to do all that. Instead, I want to know what it feels like to go against all my instincts. I want to go with emotion rather than analysis.

  “Just ease them off right from under your skirt,” he coaxes.

  “Just . . . I don’t know.” Looking around the bar, I see couples, groups of girls together for a night out, families, a whole crowded mix. They’re all occupied with themselves, but still.

  He sits back in his chair, draping one arm over the top of the vacant one next to him. I can tell he’s got his legs spread wide, confident and relaxed in that particularly male way. There’s a challenge in his eyes. This is some sort of test for him to see how far out of my comfort zone I’m willing to go for him. It’s a test for me, too. Am I really willing to be something else?

  “Take. A. Chance,” he says slowly, emphatically.

  Another look around the place and with our waiter nowhere in sight, I decide this can be relatively harmless. I finish my drink and then give him a nod before reaching under the table, under my skirt. I start to pull the side strap but freeze in doubt again.

  “Look at me,” he tells me when I falter.

  Making eye contact, I find my nerve again. Because this is silly, really. Who should care if I’m removing a simple undergarment. But also, because this is hot. Especially so when I recognize the lust in his eyes as he watches my maneuvering. I manage to pull my knickers down past my arse and over my thighs without too much trouble, keeping my skirt mostly in place. But then they get stuck on the upper opening of my boot and I wrestle with it for a moment in a decidedly unsexy move, breaking eye contact. When I get it lose and look back at him, he’s got an amused smile on his face.

  “Here,” I say, pushing the balled-up panties at him under the table.

  In response, he sits up in his chair, leaning forward again. He extends his hand, offering me an open palm.

  I nudge at his knee. There’s no way I’m going to be that blatant with this.

  After a moment’s consideration, he withdraws his hand and reaches under the table. He doesn’t take the panties from me, though. Instead, he wraps his large hand over my closed fist, at first tightly, and then he loosens his grip and trails his fingers gently over the inside of my wrist and along my inner forearm. The stark difference between the pressure of his hand closed over mine to this feather-light touch has sent my head swimming. I’m sure the whiskey hasn’t helped.

  When he carefully pulls back each of my fingers and removes the knickers from my hand, I breathe out in relief. I’ve risen to his challenge. With a few deep breaths, I start to feel my heartbeat slowing down.

  Bringing his closed hand out from under the table, he uses his knuckles to wipe at his nose. I close my eyes in embarrassment because I know what he’s really doing.

  “Amelia.”

  My eyes open wide at the sound of his voice. He’s leaning over the table again.

  “Now,” he says, “I want you to go to the ladies. It’s a single. Open when I knock three times.”

  “What?”

  “Go.” He nods in the direction of the back of the bar.

  Oh, this is too much. What have I done by starting this with him? This isn’t me. I don’t do things like this. I’ve never even had sex outside of a bed, for god’s sake.

  “There’s too many people,” I say, eyeing those around us.

  “Take a chance. For me.”

  I watch him for a moment, but I can’t think logically. All I can do is feel.

  Feel the heat and wetness between my legs.

  Feel my breathing quickening.

  Feel my desire match what’s in his eyes.

  Before I can reason with myself, I push back my chair, smooth down my skirt, and pick up my purse. I turn without saying a word and head to the far end of the bar.

  There’s a short set of stairs leading to the women’s room. It’s occupied but I only wait a few seconds for it to be free. Inside, I lock the door and look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes bright. Running the tap, I scoop up a handful of water and gulp it down. I let my wet hand trail over my neck, hoping to cool down.

  The three taps come sooner than I expected. As soon as I crack the door, Daniel pushes his way through, closes and locks the door in one swift movement, and then presses me against the wall. His hands pin my wrists up by my head as he kisses me deeply, his tongue desperate against mine, searching for something that can’t be satisfied. The need between us is too intense. I can tell that no matter how good this encounter is, it won’t be enough. I feel insatiable and I haven’t even begun yet.

  5

  Danny Boy

  * * *

  I can’t believe she did it. That she’s doing this. I watch as she makes her way to the toilets at the back of the pub while playing my fingers over the silky material of her knickers.

  I’d expected her to throw her drink at me when I asked for them. Or at least walk out. I wanted to push her, to see where her limits were.

  And she surprised the fuck out of me.

  Her suggestion for our toast, to taking chances, had pissed me right off. It pulled everything into focus. I suddenly understood that she had come all this way to see me on some sort of lark. She was looking to play with a bad boy. I was a chance. A risk. Of course, I was. What else could I be to a respectable woman like her? What a joke.

  Only, I wasn’t in the mood to laugh. Not after how I’d invested my heart in her. I had genuine feelings for this woman. Sure, I wasn’t sure how to handle a real relationship with her, but I was willing to try.

  She was only willing to play. To take a chance.

  In those few seconds after she’d said that, I was overwhelmed by those words. Part of me recognized my old pattern of twisting things to suit my own reality. But a bigger part of me was happy to accept that what she’d meant could only be received in a negative way. That’s been my default belief for most of my life, anyway, that no one sees any real value in me.

  So, fine. If she wants to take a chance on being with fucked-up me, then I’m ready to show her what that version might be like.

  But I really didn’t expect her to play this game. Time to find out how far she’s really willing to go. I throw some cash down on the table and get up, pocketing the knickers as I make my way to the back of the pub.

  I’ve had my fair share of sex in unusual places, but from what I remember when I told Amelia about my first encounter with Jules, she’s a bit more inexperienced in this realm.

  My knock is answered right away. I quickly sort the situation, entering, locking the door, and pushing her up against the wall. She is eager. Willing.

  I press myself to her as I kiss her, my cock hard and insistent.

  She moans, and god, I want to fuck her. I want to grab her skirt and pull it out of the way, so I can push myself deep inside her. I want to look into her eyes as I take her hard, to see that moment of pleasure overcome her when our bodies connect.

  Releasing my hold on her wrists, I start to pull open my belt. I can hear her rapid breathing, feel the heat of desire between us.

  I’m halfway to unbuttoning my fly when I stop. After a second’s hesitation, I put myself back together. I realize that though my body is willing, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to start this off with her the same way I did with Jules. There was no foundation with Jules, in part because it was all based on an attraction we couldn’t control. And here Amelia is, wanting to perpetuate that pattern with me. Fuck’s sake, can’t she still be a bit like my therapist when it counts?

  She drapes her arms over my neck, pulling me back close. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

  “But . . . .”

  I see the disappointment and confusion in her face. It’s not surprising considering my sudden withdrawal. I realize I’d better fix this somehow.

  “My dear Amelia,” I say and caress her cheek gently, “when I have the pleasure of fucking y
ou for the first time, it won’t be while we’re in a pub toilet.”

  “Oh,” she says hoarsely. “Then why . . . .”

  Good question. Why did I bring her into the ladies if I was only going to push her up against the wall for a quick snog?

  “You’re right. I won’t leave you wanting.”

  She looks at me quizzically, but before she can say anything more, I’m on her again. My kisses are less frenetic now as I coax her into a sensual rhythm. I don’t pin her wrists, but instead trail my hands over her body, getting a good feel of her generous curves. Grabbing her arse, I squeeze hard enough to make her moan. Then, up goes my hand under her jumper. Her breasts are large, her skin exquisitely soft—until I pull down her bra and feel the hardened point of her nipple.

  She pulls my other hand down and under her skirt, to the wetness between her legs. She’s nicely trimmed and waxed, and my fingers slide easily against her slick pussy.

  Jesus, what was I thinking in not wanting to start us off with a good fuck? Maybe I can change my mind again.

  Before I have a chance to do that, though, I sense in her quickened breathing that her orgasm is building. Might as well finish her off in fine form. I push a finger deep into her, thrusting before slipping free to rub against her clit, then back again in an unpredictable rhythm that has her hips pressing eagerly against my hand. Another moan into my mouth, and then she’s doing her best to keep from crying out. I keep my hand where it is, feeling the walls of her pulse around my finger.

  Finally, I pull away and see her cheeks are flushed, her eyes closed. Her hair is a little wild.

  This.

  This is how I had wanted to see her. There’s something about this undone version of her that is so satisfying, even with me still stuck with a raging hard-on that’s going nowhere.

  There’s a knock at the door and we’re brought back to reality. She looks at me with wide eyes and I laugh. We were lucky to have had that much uninterrupted time together.

  “Now, we should get out of here,” I say.

  “I, em. What about—”

  “I’ll be okay.” I adjust my cock, willing it to let up already, before going to wash my hands.

  I’m not sure what my next move will be. This test of mine, to push her boundaries and see if she’d run scared has only shown her to be willing to really go through with this whole bad boy thing. I had imagined wanting to help her explore her sexuality, but not exactly in this way. What does it all mean? Fuck, if only I could talk to my dear Ms. Patterson about this.

  I laugh to myself but stop short when I feel her put her arms around me from behind. She’s got her face pressed to my back, so I can’t see her face, but I sense she’s smiling.

  “I saw stars,” she murmurs. “So, what will happen when I get to have all of you?”

  Looking at myself in the mirror, I know she has no idea what getting all of me will mean. She’s only ever seen the best in me, even when I’ve admitted to some dark shit. I’m no knight in shining armor. I’m not boyfriend material.

  But then, she’s already convinced me that wasn’t what she was after with me. She’s looking to take a chance. That is something I can do.

  Turning, I look her in the eyes and tell her, “With me? It’s fucking fireworks, baby.”

  6

  Amelia

  * * *

  Mercifully, I have my knickers back from Daniel. It somehow makes me feel better about that intimate experience we had given that he’s gone cold since then.

  He’d pulled me by the hand out of the restroom, not making any effort to sneak away. Instead, he smiled widely at the line of three women waiting and said, “It’s all yours, ladies. Believe me, the more the merrier in there. Don’t be shy!”

  I had ducked my head in embarrassment, wanting out of there as soon as possible.

  Once we were on the street, Daniel let go of my hand and started walking down toward the waterfront. I followed him silently, crossing my arms over my chest against the chill of the evening.

  I know I should be examining just what is happening with his changing moods, but I’m preoccupied with the intensely thrilling encounter we had back at the pub. It was sexy as hell. That he would satisfy me like that without any reciprocation was an entirely new experience—not to mention, of course, the fact that I had a standing orgasm in a public toilet.

  My cheeks go hot as I think of this. It makes me feel daring.

  He’d twisted my toast into something negative, but that’s not at all what I was thinking. Me coming to another country to see him while not knowing what our future holds, that’s taking a chance. And up until I said it, I’d believed it was worth it. That he was worth it.

  Then, I saw his mind at work trying to turn my rather innocuous toast into something to prove he has never really changed. I don’t believe that. And now I have to figure out how to convince him, too.

  “Daniel,” I call, rushing to catch up with him.

  “Danny Boy,” he tosses over his shoulder. “Go on, try it on.”

  My heart sinks. “Stop.”

  But he doesn’t. He keeps moving toward the water.

  “What are you afraid of?” I ask.

  That stops him in his tracks. By now, we’re on the pathway by the water. There are a few scattered homeless people trying to curl up against the night air, and some other people walking along the dimly lit area. It doesn’t feel too dodgy, but I’d rather not appear as if I’m on my own and so I come up alongside him.

  “Why don’t you tell me,” he says, his eyes trained on the calm water. It’s shimmering in patches under the lights of the nearby buildings but pitch black in other areas.

  Taking a deep breath, I try to clear my head. The head that had thrown all caution to the wind and decided the fact that I was this man’s therapist once upon a time was not a big enough deterrent to keep from having a relationship with him. It’s only been a few hours since seeing him and we’re already in trouble. I won’t let this all unravel so quickly. Not after all I’ve risked to get to this point. If it takes analyzing him to save this, then that’s what I’ll do.

  “Okay, Danny Boy, if this is how it is,” I start, and he looks at me in surprise. I’ve never once called him by that juvenile nickname. “You’re afraid that you’re not good enough for me, that you’ll fail me, that at heart you’re still the same fuckup you’ve always been. So, you resorted to pushing that in my face. And when I didn’t turn away, you tried pushing me out of my comfort zone with being the one in control. I mean, really, demanding my knickers?” I scoff. “Yes, it was a bit of sexy fun, but it was also your way of trying to, finally, be the one in control of things with us. Is that why you got me off without helping yourself? Just so you could have me under your mercy?”

  He doesn’t look away from me, but he doesn’t say anything either.

  “Well?”

  “Well, Ms. Patterson, you may be right about the first part. But the last bit about your knickers and me giving you what was surely the best orgasm of your life, was off base. You want to twist a good time into something calculating because you’re too prudish—”

  “Not true. I said it was your way of control because I know your history. I know how you liked to resort to sex with Jules.”

  “Oh, fuck me,” he moans, holding his head in his hands. “Is this what it’s going to be? You analyzing every move I make based on what I told you about me and Jules?”

  “Would you rather I keep all that to myself?”

  “Yes, I would, actually.”

  I force myself to take a deep breath and try to focus on the heart of the matter. He’s staring back out at the water, making it clear he doesn’t really want me to go on. But I forge ahead anyway.

  “I know this isn’t an easy situation. I know it brings up all sorts of things that are hard to process. I was willing to figure it out with you. That’s how it’s supposed to work when two people get together.” I pause, trying to formulate what I’ll say next. “But, jus
t as when we were in therapy, I can’t do it on my own. And I can’t do this without you understanding how hard this was for me. I should not be here. I should have never crossed any lines with you. But I took a chance. Because I couldn’t get you out of my head. I couldn’t get you out of my heart. I think you have so much to offer, Daniel. But maybe it’s still too soon for us.”

  I want to say more. I want to tell him this is the only chance we’ll ever have and that if he doesn’t fight for it, we’ll both regret it. But I don’t have it in me. Telling him that would be the extra push he’d need to fall at my feet. And it would make me feel like I’m manipulating him. I want desperately for him to figure this out for himself, rather than for me to push him into the realization. I know he’s capable of it. He can be so deeply insightful when he wants to.

  But he’s clearly chosen not to respond. All he gives me is his profile and despite the fact that we are standing only a few feet apart, I feel a profound distance between us. I’ve seen spurts of this incredible coldness before. But when we were in therapy, I could steel against how uncomfortable it was to rub up against that. Now, I have no such defense and it sends a shiver through me.

  Left with no other choice, I turn away from him and look back up the slope we’d come down. There is a lot of activity back on that main street. I’m sure I could figure out how to get to my hotel from here. I’d have to retrieve my bag from Shay’s house at some point, but maybe tonight I could just make do with what I’ve got.

  I don’t wait any longer, instead turning and walking back the way we had come. But now, I’m on my own.

  7

  Danny Boy

  * * *

  What a lot of work this relationship shite is.

  Jesus, it’s like an extension of therapy, where I’m constantly asked to examine myself and be better, do better. And this is the bit before we were ever even in a relationship. I can only imagine what kind of hell it would be after making it official.