Switch (Landry Family 3)

“No. This is starting to make me uncomfortable,” he cringes.

“I don’t care,” I whisper, teasing him. “Besides seeing you naked and being on the receiving end of your smile, my favorite thing about you is how smart you are and how passionate you are about the things that matter to you.”

He huffs, clearly embarrassed, and looks away.

“Do you want to know what my favorite thing is about you? It might surprise you,” he says, tapping my nose. “It’s not how insanely gorgeous you are or how good you are at your job or how I can talk to you about anything and you know a little something about it.”

My cheeks flush and I try to look away, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he holds my gaze in place and smiles.

“My favorite thing about you is your heart.” He says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that it takes a second to process it. “At first when you would ask me how I am in the morning or if I needed something before you left work, I’d assume it was a part of your role. But I’ve come to learn you really are asking. You really do care if I’m okay.”

“And if not, I’ll bring you a soda and a protein bar,” I say, nestling my head against his chest as the warmth of the fire snuggles me in.

“I love that you care, Mallory. And it comes from such a good place. You don’t ask because you want something from me. Just like Donnie tonight. You were worried he was upset. That’s pretty incredible.”

“That’s called having a heart.”

“That’s called being a lady.” He wraps his other hand around me, fastening them at my hip. “This is nice.”

“Mhmm . . .” I say, unfastening a couple of the buttons on his shirt and slipping my hand inside. His tight chest, rough and warm, sends a blast of energy right through me. “You know what?”

“What’s that?”

“I thought you were going to say your favorite thing about me was my punctuality.”

He laughs and I can feel the reverberation in my hand. His heart quickens. “No, but I could’ve said something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like the feel of your pussy wrapped around my cock.”

His words, coupled with the grit in his tone, makes me weak. As he stretches back, I see the bulge in his pants, and I know, right or wrong, ready or not, I’m going to come.

“I know what you mean,” I say, skimming my palm down his chest and cupping him. “I love the way my body stretches as you put the tip of your—Ah!”

Before I can finish my sentence, I’m flipped on my back. Graham hovers over me, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Mallory

GRAHAM’S TONGUE DARTS OUT, SKIMMING his bottom lip. He’s pinning me against the loveseat with a hand on either side of my face.

“You drive me crazy,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “I try so hard to be on my best behavior around you and you just whittle me down. Every fucking time.”

“Well,” I tease, wrapping my legs around his waist. “I think your ‘best behavior’ is subjective.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And you know what I mean.”

My heels locked at his back, I squeeze my thighs around his waist and pull him closer to me. His lips hover over mine but they don’t touch.

“What exactly do you mean, Mallory?”

I wind my fingers in his hair and tug gently. “I mean this is the Graham I like best. I like seeing you like this.”

“Struggling to keep myself together?”

“Exactly.” Lifting my head, I flick my tongue against his lips. I can feel the heat of his mouth, the taste of his desire. “Don’t try so hard,” I whisper.