"Yes."
If I was a two-year-old kid right now, I'd be stomping my feet in protest. That one word feels like a huge bucket of ice water dumped over the top of my head. I know by her body language that she doesn't mean it, but immediately I stop everything. I pull her top back up and step back. She was right to stop this anyway. She deserves better than me taking her on top of a hard metal desk in a nightclub office.
She deserves better than me period.
Fuck! I'm pissed. I'm not usually the guy who whines, "why me" about life. Hell I realize that I'm one of the lucky ones. I made it out of my neighborhood, I live in a luxury penthouse apartment, I drive a hundred thousand dollar car, I'm good at my job, and I have no problem getting whatever woman I want on any given day of the week. I have no right to be angry or ungrateful about a thing; so the fuck what.
I'm still pissed.
Why does Elizabeth have to be my damn cousin? Why is Joseph watching me like a hawk? Why did I sign that damn contract? Why is she flirting with this swimmer? And why for the first time in my life, have I found myself in the middle of a situation that I cannot fix my way out of.
"So the swimmer. You'll stop dancing for him right?"
"I'm not dancing for anyone Masterson. We were dancing together."
"Well let me put this another way. I don't want to see you two dancing together again."
"Or what? You'll bury him in the backyard until he grows?" She asks sarcastically.
"We were kids. When are you going to let that go?" I smirk.
"You're still the same badass kid you were back then."
"I'm even worse now. Try me." Please try me.
"I like Jagger."
I think she wants me to pummel him.
"What do you mean you like him? I brought you out tonight to meet my friends and see what I've done so far with the club. Not hang out with Captain America. He wasn't invited. Like him on your own time."
She looks at me pensively for a moment.
"What happened earlier tonight and just now can't happen again Roman. You know that right?"
I'm beginning to hate when she calls me by my first name. I'm starting to see that when she says it, it isn't a good sign. Masterson is the man she met a few weeks ago in the club. That name rolls off of her tongue like warm butter and makes my dick stand up and beg. That's who she calls out for when my mouth is in between her legs. Roman is the name of her fucking cousin. The boy who buried her in the yard when she was six. The guy who doesn't stand a chance with her.
"I'm not sure I can promise that," I say in complete honesty but with regret.
"You're insane. We're cousins Roman. Juliette and Joseph would freak. My parents would freak. Hell, you avoided me for weeks when you found out who I was."
"Just ditch the swimmer or I'll kick his ass Elizabeth." I bark out in frustration. Of course I know she's right. Everything she's saying is right, but my dick seems to be in complete disagreement.
"You're a complete ass Roman!"
Then she picks up her glass, spins on her heels, and slams the door with a great deal of strength behind her.
Not ten fucking minutes later I find Elizabeth giggling and sitting on Jagger's lap, and just a moment before I was about to drop kick the swimmer in his windpipe, I feel two sets of meaty hands pulling me back from the brink of a night spent in police custody.
Camden and Cutter.
Absolute fun snatchers.
Chapter Twenty
Elizabeth
I'M ON THE PHONE TALKING to Sloan, with my feet propped up on a pillow, eating a bowl of microwave popcorn and sipping on a glass of ice-cold sweet tea that Juliette made. My brain is completely fried, so I've decided to stop working on my database for the rest of the night and catch up with my bestie instead.
"He's cock blocking and I want to know why hooker!" Sloan asks with an accusatory tone.
It's been over a week since we all went out to The Lotus, and Roman has been by the house every single day keeping an eye on me (I assume), but acting like a Grade A asshole in the process. He's been meeting with Joseph about whatever it is they talk about with the door closed. Eating a scrumptious dinner prepared by Juliette every night. Working out like a maniac in the home gym (I spied on him once or twice). Never once coming by my room to say hello or bothering to ask me if I wanted a little dinner (selfish bastard). Not talking to me at all. All because I'm the one with the level head. The one who stopped things before they went too far. If I had listened to him and left Jagger alone that night, he would have thought that I was cosigning whatever this was going on between us. And I'm not. I can't.
While I usually tell Sloan everything, I have conveniently omitted all details in regards to how I've been allowing Roman to feel me up every chance he gets. If she told me something like that about her cousin, I'd probably send her to a shrink. There's just no excuse. There are millions of single men out there. Why on earth do I have to be so attracted to a man whom I'm related to? Why does he have to be so incredibly sexy? Why does his smart mouth turn me on? Why does he know how to work my body into a frenzy like no one else? Why does he make me feel completely safe when I'm with him? In fact it's just dawned on me that I haven't once thought about my assault since he's been around.