Sway (Landry Family 1)

Alison: They are so beautiful, but it’s not the flowers that have made me smile today.

Me: Pray tell.

Alison: The color, this deep, grape-y purple is nice . . .

Memories of being with her, the way she feels beneath my touch, my name on her swollen lips the last time I saw her has my entire body lighting up from the inside.

I don’t just feel lonely now. I’m needy, craving to see her, touch her, hear her.

Taste her.

For the first time all week, I’m home relatively early and I must see her. It’s taken every fiber of my being to go slow with this when what I want to do is take it as I feel. But I don’t, because with Alison, that won’t work . . . and that’s precisely why I like her.

Me: Can I see you tonight?

Alison: Hux just left to go with my mother.

Me: I can have Troy there in thirty minutes.

Alison: I can drive. LOL

Me: He’s on his way. Be ready.

Shooting a quick text to Troy, I jump in and out of the shower and am pacing the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I laugh at myself as I jog to the entrance and pull the door open.

Alison’s standing on the stoop, a twinge of nervousness in her smile. Her fingers fiddle with the strap of her purse. She’s dressed in a navy blue dress that hits at her knees.

“Come in,” I grin, holding the door open. She shuffles inside, and when I close the door and turn to face her, the entire feeling in my house changes. It’s warm and lively, the emptiness filled by her energy.

Her eyes are soft as she peers up at me. I close the distance and wrap her up in my arms.

“Hey,” she grins, tilting her chin.

“Hey,” I whisper, laying a kiss on her lips.

For the first time all day, I don’t give a fuck about Monroe or the Land Bill or what my father’s take on the situation is. None of it matters because right now, this is the treaty to end all the wars of the day.

“Did you have a good day?” she asks.

I shrug indifferently and her face drops.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Just another day in paradise,” I smile.

“You do like being mayor, right?” She searches my face. “I mean, you ran for office.”

I take her hand and pull her into the living room. “Yeah, of course. I’m the eldest Landry. I was trained for this my whole life.”

“That doesn’t mean you like it.”

We sit on the sofa and she surprises me again. She’s never been here before and she doesn’t bother to do a quick sweep of the place, to see what I have or what it looks like. She just looks at me—and not at my face or my body or my wallet.

At. Me.

I consider her statement. “No, I guess it doesn’t mean that. But I do.” Thinking back to when I first got into politics, my first year as a councilman, I realize how much things, how much I, have changed. “I’ve always enjoyed the process. I think now, I just enjoy it for different reasons.”

She tries to hide her smile, but it tugs at the corner of her lips. “Do I want to know what that means?”