Swoon (16 page)

“Thank you,” I murmured and turned around.

But he’d disappeared into the kitchen, and I could hear him rattling around. He returned a moment later carrying two tumblers of bourbon, neat, handing one to me and setting the other on the wooden trunk coffee table. He’d pulled a shirt on as well, but it was a muscle-revealing wifebeater. I wasn’t usually into that but… it was working.

He sat on the trunk, leaning over, hands loosely clasped between his legs. He was watching me, waiting for my next move.

I hated this. More feelings talk. This had seemed like such a great idea a while back, like several hours ago. But about ten minutes ago I had begun to question myself. I didn’t trust my feelings, let alone want to talk about them. But I did need to apologize and see if he’d be willing to work with me. I took a sip of liquid courage and leaned forward to set my glass down next to his.

“I’m sorry,” I began as I straightened.

He was chewing the inside of his lip and nodding slowly, head lowered. Finally he looked up at me. “For what?”

Great, he was going to make me spell it all out.

I drew in a deep breath. “For kicking you out when you were trying to speak. For not asking any questions. For not giving you a chance. Us a chance.”

“I can’t trust you, Steph.”

He shook his head, and I blinked rapidly at the hurt those words brought forth.

“What do you mean you can’t trust me?”

“I mean that with only one toe into even the idea of a relationship, we hit a bump and you bailed. What about when something real happens? Have you figured that out?”

His voice was clear and direct, and to be honest, I felt like a child.

“A girlfriend is more than a bump, Lawrence.”

He shrugged. “Easy fix. No more girlfriend. I said I’d take care of things on my end.”

“So you just got rid of the girl? That easy?”

“That easy.”

I stiffened on the couch, leaning back farther. “I’m not sure what that says about you. That you could treat a girl so… so cavalierly. Are we that disposable?”

“I told you we weren’t that serious. But I couldn’t start something with you without ending things with her first. I didn’t dispose of her. We were dating. We broke up. Happens all the time when two people aren’t right for each other.” He looked me in the eye. “But that’s not us. Or it wouldn’t be, anyway.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I would never throw you away, and I would never let you throw us away again. I’m done with that.”

“Why me? Why me over this other girl? Why… me?” I didn’t understand and I needed something concrete.

“Steph,” he said, exasperated, “why do you think so little of yourself? How can you not see how I feel about you? How crazy I am about you?”

“But why?” I insisted, my volume rising.

He stood and picked up his glass, draining half the bourbon in one gulp, then slamming it back on the table to pace around the room, rubbing his hands over his head. He looked out the window into the darkness for a minute before turning and resting back on the sill, arms folded across his chest.

Finally he spoke. “You literally make me crazy.”

He paused and I wondered how complimentary this was going to turn out, but I kept my mouth shut.

“In all the best and worst ways. I’ve never had someone challenge me like you do. But you’re also someone I can be myself with. Friends and lovers don’t have to be mutually exclusive things. We have both. We could have both. I think about you. Always. I’m never not thinking about you, Steph. And half the time it pisses me off because I don’t know where you are, or who you’re with, or what you’re doing. But the other half of the time I want nothing more than to think about you and imagine what you’re doing, what you’re wearing, what you’re saying. I fell for you years ago, and I’ve never really gotten back up.”

He walked back over and sat across from me again, resuming his previous position. I was trying hard to process everything he was saying, and it made me realize how unfair it had been for me to not allow him the same courtesy the previous week. Learning how he truly felt about me was… intense, terrifying.

“So,” he continued. “That’s how I feel. That’s what I’ve figured out. I want you, specifically, because you’ve infiltrated my mind, my body, my fucking soul. You’re smart and you’re strong, compassionate, driven, and hot as fuck. The question I need to ask is… why are you here? Why are you here right now?”

I couldn’t help but smile inwardly at his description of me. All of it. But then I was back to lip chewing. “I don’t mean to be complicated, Lawrence. I really don’t. I don’t want drama. In fact, I’m very anti-drama. That’s why I’ve steered clear from relationships. But with you, we just keep getting drawn back together. And I fought it because…” I took another deep breath. “Because I’m scared. Terrified.” I met his eyes. “I don’t know how to make this work. I don’t know how to be a girlfriend. I can be selfish and moody and opinionated, even when I’m wrong.” One corner of his mouth rose. “I’m here because you’ve done something to me. You make me want to be better. Less selfish. Less moody. When we’re together and we’re not angry at each other, you even me out. I think about you. Always. Every touch and every word. Everything means something. To me. You mean something to me. I haven’t completely figured it out because I haven’t figured myself out yet. But you make me want to try. And I’ll really try. I’m gonna fuck it up. A lot probably. But I can’t move on from you, and I don’t want to. At the risk of repeating last week’s speech, I want you and I want us.”

I had laid a hand across my chest because that outpouring of emotion expressed in words physically pained me. And I waited, drawing long breaths to calm my racing heart.

“And when shit gets real, when bad things happen, when it’s all too much? What then? Do you stick around to work it out? Or do you run away, blow us off?” His voice was quiet but strong.

“I stick around.”

He nodded slowly and shifted forward, closing the gap between us. He released his hands to rest on my knees, then slide up my thighs. His fingers found the elastic on my shorts and dipped beneath, just barely. My breath hitched in anticipation.

“You make me nervous when you talk about feelings so rationally.” He smirked at me and a laughing breath escaped my lips.

“Me too,” I admitted.

He smiled, a real, Lawrence-type smile.

“So what you’re saying”—his fingertips trailed around to the backs of my thighs—“is that we can be together. Really together. Meaning I can do this”—he leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine, not so much a kiss but as a promise of more—“anytime I want?”

I nodded, mute.

He removed his hands from under my shorts. One slid behind the small of my back and the other gripped the base of my neck. His thumb traced down my throat and I swallowed. Hard.

“Meaning… you’re all in, from now on?” He was studying his finger caressing the skin over my fluttering pulse.

I nodded again. “I’m all in,” I whispered.

His eyes rose to mine, intensely blue, darker than normal. I felt disappointed when he pulled away, feeling the loss and a chill. But the coolness was replaced with burning warmth spreading from my core when he pulled his wifebeater off with one hand, giving me another look at his delectable torso. A finger under my chin raised my eyes back to his, which were now even darker.

“Sober,” he said gruffly. “This is you and me. Remember all of it. No fuzzy memories, no closed eyes. There are strings attached now.”

I only had time for a brief nod before his mouth crashed to mine. His strong arms wrapped around my waist to fully envelop me. I was breathless at the feeling, my body unsure how to react to such comfort and security and wanting. My legs unfolded and wrapped around his waist as he shifted onto his knees in front of the couch. His kiss was bruising and passionate, consuming and inspiring. I gave back as much as he was dishing out, tongues warring, teeth clashing, breathing each other in. We never broke from each other even as he smoothly stood, lifting me effortlessly and walking me out of the room and up the stairs.

Despite his demands, my eyes were closed when we kissed, feeling every stroke of his mouth against mine. I didn’t know where we were going, but I trusted him as he turned and strode through a hall and turned again. With me still wrapped around him, he pulled an arm away to push his boxers down and kick them off his feet. I was suddenly self-conscious, remembering I was still in dirty shorts and a sweaty tank top with a built-in sports bra. I tried not to stiffen, but I still did as I pulled back.

“I need a shower.”

He scoffed in laughter. “You want a shower. Now?” His hips moved and I felt his hardness press against me.

My forehead fell to his bare shoulder. “I haven’t showered all day. I ran this morning, taught a lesson about vaginas, quit my job, and drove here. I’m disgusting and unattractive and I think I smell bad.” My voice was getting higher pitched and whiney sounding.

Lawrence was still laughing. “Wait. What about vaginas?”

I smacked the back of his head. “That’s the only part you heard? I quit my job! I’m gonna be homeless and poor.”

“You will not be homeless.”

“So, just poor.”

“I’m loaded, so you’ll be fine.”

“I’d never take your money, Lawrence.”

His body started to shake again. “Can we please… please… have this conversation tomorrow? At this point I may have performance issues.”

“You’re gonna have performance issues because I’m that dirty.”

“Sweetheart, you’re about to get a whole lot dirtier. Let’s worry about all this in the morning.”

I rolled my eyes as he placed me on my feet. He dropped to his knees and peeled my shorts off my hips and down to my ankles. I balanced with my hands on his shoulders and stepped out of them. He looked up at me and held my eyes as he slowly rose. His face moved closer to my thighs, pressing a soft kiss to each one, his blue gaze still looking into my eyes. He continued to rise, dropping light kisses at random, pausing at my navel to lower himself quickly and draw his tongue up between my legs, inhaling deeply. So strangely erotic.

“You definitely don’t smell bad,” he whispered roughly. “And your taste is all I can think about.”

My jaw was still dropped when he stood fully to wrestle my top off. My arms rose to allow him to pull it off, then fell to loop around his neck. We were finally completely naked, pressed together, and I could feel the heat between us. Every time he gently rocked his hips against mine, I saw stars behind my eyes. When he pushed me back and I fell against his bed, my eyes started to flutter shut at the feeling of contentment surrounding me.

“Watch me, queenie. Remember.”

I lifted my eyelids with great effort, but when I saw the lust and emotion in his eyes, I wanted nothing more than to be able to see it. So they stayed open as he pushed smoothly into me, as he stole my breath and filled me. As he left no part of me untouched by his hands or his mouth. As he worshiped my body and my soul and I did my damnedest to show him the same.

* * * *

Lawrence

She wanted a shower. What a nerd. By the time I was done with her, she wouldn’t even remember what a shower was.

Who was I kidding? I’d never be done with her. We were already on round three.

My face was buried between her legs. Her hands alternated between fisting in the sheets and gripping my head, almost making me wish I had hair for her to pull. Her thighs were soaked with sweat, and I trailed my fingers over the slick, soft inner skin to remember what ecstasy felt like before continuing to consume her with my mouth and fingers. When her body arched and she was screaming and writhing and I was about thirty seconds from suffocation, I added my teeth until her back lifted off my bed and every muscle in her turned taut and quivering. I only released her when she fell to the mattress in a heap of boneless flesh. I rose above her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Let me grab a condom,” I whispered.

“I can’t take anymore,” she murmured as she shook her head.

I chuckled proudly. “I think you can rise to the challenge.”

“I can’t.” She covered her face with one arm, laughing. “I’m so tired.”

“Indulge me one more time,” I whispered as I kissed and licked my way down her neck, her head falling to the side to allow me access.

“No condom,” she added. “I’m on the pill.”

I paused, lips on her shoulder. “You sure? Cause that would take this night to the ranking of best ever.”

She chuckled. “I’m sure. I want to feel you. All of you.”

I rolled her to her side and lay behind her, positioning her body so I could lazily slide into her from behind.

“I have a confession,” I said as my hips moved and my hand teased her breasts, then traveled lower to cup her and pull her back, letting me slide me deeper.

“What’s that?” she asked, breathlessly.

“I can’t take much more either.”

Her entire body started to tremble as she giggled. I nibbled on her neck and down to her shoulder, using my fingers and the palm of my hand to bring her to one last satisfying orgasm, her body shuddering and quaking against me while I found my own release deep within her. We fell asleep still joined, utterly replete, definitely dirty.

Chapter 18

Steph

“L
awrence? Lawrence?” A feminine voice, whispering harshly, broke through my consciousness. Lawrence’s heavy arm was draped over my naked body as my only covering. The sheets and comforter were tangled up at our feet and hanging over the edge of the bed. I peeled my eyes open and blinked rapidly.

I popped upright and looked down at the man next to me as he started to raise his head. He looked up at me with a sexy grin, his palm running down my side as he pressed a kiss to the side of my hip.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he drawled.

“Lawrence!” The whispered voice was louder, more insistent.

His eyes widened and he scrambled up, leaning over me to look at the bedside clock.

“Oh shit,” he muttered under his breath.

He jumped out of bed in all his glory and threw open a dresser drawer, tossing me a shirt and some plaid boxers and hurriedly stepping into some himself.

“Quick, put those on,” he said as he pulled a T-shirt over his head and grabbed a pair of jeans from another drawer.

“Lawrence, what the fuck is going on?” I’d been in such a deep sleep that it took me a second to come to. “Who is that?” My voice was starting to sound pissed. Maybe because I was starting to get pissed. If whoever was downstairs was someone he was supposed to “handle,” I was going to rip his balls off.