“Don’t take this the wrong way, Landry, but you’d be impossible to watch leave.”
“You don’t like the view of my ass?” he teases.
“Not as much as I like the view of your face.”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes troubled. “I like you. I really fucking like you. You make me remember what it’s like to be . . . more than me.”
“You don’t need to be anything more than you are.”
His grin hits me in a soft spot deep in my heart. “See?” he says softly. “Right there. That’s why I want to lock you up.” He peers into my eyes, like it’s going to drive his words home.
“Damn it,” I sigh, trying to keep this light before I succumb to his words. “You make it so hard to resist you.”
“So don’t.”
I consider this. “Do you know Weston Brinkmann?”
He makes a face like he just sucked a lemon. “Why?”
“He wanted to date me a year or so ago and I turned him down.”
“Smart girl. He’s a complete fucking cocksucker.”
I laugh, squeezing him tight. “I turned him down even though I kind of liked him just because he played baseball. For the same reasons I’m telling you about.”
He just watches me.
“See, that’s the thing,” I say. “I turned him down. I can’t tell you no. I don’t know what that means, exactly, but it scares me.”
“You shouldn’t be scared alone. It’s like drinking when you’re sad—have a partner,” he winks. “Let’s hang out. Take some batting practice. Have dinner, breakfast if things go well. I promise to use all my Southern manners.”
My leg slings back over him again, this time so my pussy is lined up with his cock.
“I can feel your heat,” he says, his breath picking up. “Want round two?”
“Only if you promise not to use those Southern manners.”
“Deal.”
Lincoln
SHE’S GONE.
When I woke up and she wasn’t beside me, I hoped she was in the shower. Or living room. Or kitchen. But I’ve thoroughly inspected every room and come up with nothing, save a little note written on the back of a take-out menu.
Morning, Landry.
Thanks for last night. And you’re welcome for it, too. I had some things to do this morning, so I went ahead and left. You probably need to go grocery shopping. You have no coffee. Who are you?
Xo
Danielle
“Sure you did,” I say, holding the note in my hand as I pull a gallon of milk out of the refrigerator. I give it a quick smell test before drinking straight from the carton. “You left because you had things to do. Right.”
She left because she didn’t want to have to deal with the fact that she slept all night in my arms. That we were together three times from the time we got home from the restaurant until she snuck out of here sometime after six a.m. That she liked it.
If she didn’t like it, she wouldn’t have smiled in her sleep or slept right against me like a log. She wouldn’t have let me kiss her while she slept or snuck out this morning.