Play Rough (Black Rose Kisses 2)

He says it like the weight of his daughter’s opinions are a very serious thing, and I guess they probably are. For all that Rory is confident and outgoing, he also cares a surprising amount about what people think. Especially people who are close to him. So it makes sense that he doesn’t want to mess this up.

It would be easier to tell him I have no idea how to help him and leave him to it, but instead, I step over to his desk where he has his laptop open and multiple online shopping pages pulled up.

The choices are all over the place, ranging from a little table that comes with a massive collection of crayons, markers, and chalky watercolors, to a princess castle that looks big enough for a small child to actually live in.

“Did you run this one by Jen?” I ask him, pointing at the castle. “Because that seems like a big thing to set up in her backyard.”

“I know,” Rory agrees. “That one’s more just a concept, I guess. I just need a woman’s opinion.”

I roll my eyes at that. “I’m pretty sure there’s a big difference between what I’d like for my birthday and what Piper would like. Although this bike is pretty cool.” I pause on one of the pages. “Maybe a little big for her right now, though.”

“It comes in a smaller size,” Rory says. “But maybe you’re right. There’s also this.” He shifts closer to where I’m leaning against the desk, sliding his finger over the track pad to another page where there’s a four-wheeled mini ATV-looking thing on display. “She could ride it around the neighborhood.”

“Okay.” I nod, dipping my head a bit to look closer. “That’s pretty badass, actually.”

It’s painted pink, and the wheels are big, and while it looks like something someone would take off-roading, the product description promises it doesn’t go fast at all.

“Is that one a winner, do you think?” he asks, glancing at me hopefully.

I purse my lips. “Yeah, if you think she’d use it. You know her better than I do, obviously. If not, the art table is probably pretty safe.”

“I think she’d love it,” Rory says. Then he frowns. “But it’s not very girly, is it? I thought little girls were all about princesses and shit.”

I poke him in the side firmly. “Little girls can be into whatever they want. Princesses and toddler ATVs don’t have to be mutually exclusive or whatever. Maybe she wants to take her dolls with her on a drive. Or wear a tiara while she rides off down the street. If you think she’d like it, then get it for her. That’s what matters.”

Rory’s smile is genuine, and something like relief flashes across his face. I’m reminded once again how much he cares about his daughter and wants her to be happy, to the point where he’ll overthink a birthday gift just to be sure.

“Great. Done deal. Thanks for your help, Hurricane,” he says, and his voice sounds very close behind me. I turn around so I’m facing away from the desk and the laptop and end up face to face with Rory, and yeah. He’s really close.

Mouth suddenly dry, I lick my lips, looking at him while he looks at me. He’s so damn handsome, and it’s not even the slightest bit fucking fair. All that boyish charm and easy humor are wrapped up in a muscular, tattooed package. Dressed in comfortable clothes, in the comfort of his own room, he seems even more in his element, and seeing again how much he cares about Piper just makes it worse.

He’s such an appealing package, sure, but it’s one I’m supposed to be resisting.

Of course, he doesn’t know that, and having me so close makes his smile turn from happy to seductive. He holds my gaze with purpose and starts moving in closer, boxing me in against the edge of the desk.

Rory’s right in my personal space, moving casually but with intent, and I can feel my heart start beating faster. Every time he’s this close, it’s impossible to deny the visceral response he evokes in my body. The flirtatious tension flares between us, building up thick and strong and impossible to ignore.

Kind of like Rory himself, when I think about it.

He reaches up to touch my cheek and then slides his fingers into my hair, stroking through it slowly. It’s so calming and nice, and I feel my eyes fluttering shut for a second, leaning into the feeling just for a bit.

His bed is right there, hastily made and serviceable, and it would be so easy to just make use of it. To let him kiss me and touch me and make me feel good the way I can tell he wants to.

I swallow hard, feeling my body yearn for his, just a few steps away from giving in and leaning up to kiss him, letting one thing lead to another like it always fucking does.

But just in time, I remember why I shouldn’t do that. I made a promise to myself, to the memory of my dad, and I have to keep it. Doing this time and time again will only complicate things more than they are already.

So I pull away, slipping away from the desk to stand off to the side.

“I’ve got some things I have to get done today,” I tell him, trying to sound at least a little apologetic so he doesn’t feel like I’m rejecting him. “If I get started with you, I’ll be here all day.”

He just grins and waves me on, but there’s a look in his eyes that promises he’s going to remember this mood for later.

I head back to my own room and close the door. The temptation to hide under my covers is pretty fucking strong, but I don’t even make it that far. I slide down the door to sit on the floor in front of it and close my eyes, leaning my head back against the wood.

“What am I doing?” I mumble to myself. “What am I fucking doing?”

I’m not even sure what I’m referring to anymore. The guys, the plan, life in general? It all falls under the heading of “massive clusterfuck” right now, and I have no idea what to do about any of it.