Swing (Landry Family 2)

His fingers skirt the top of my waistband, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My body temperature elevates quicker than Pepper changes her mind about soup.

“Landry . . .” I all but beg.

“Say yes.” His breath is hot against my cheek.

The harder I try to focus on the request, the harder it is to do just that. My body riots for this man. My heart leads the charge. My brain, even though it still blinks a faint red light of warning, gives in.

“You win,” I say, working to dig my hands beneath the elastic of his boxer briefs.

“Does that mean yes?”

“Damn it, Landry,” I pant, taking his girth in my hand. “Didn’t you hear me?”

He skims up my abs and removes my breasts from my bra, leaving them sitting on the cups. The cool evening air causes my nipples to form peaks.

“I heard you,” he says. “And I didn’t hear a yes.”

He squats in front of me. My shirt is raised to my chin. His tongue darts out, flicking against one nipple before doing the same to the other. “Yes?” he asks.

Taking both a deep breath and his face in my hands, I pull him back just so I can see in his eyes. “Yes, Landry. But I’m going to need you to hit me home now.”

His lips hover over my breast. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

Danielle

I CRAWL INTO THE BED layered with down comforters and crisp white sheets. Fresh from the shower and wearing one of Lincoln’s Arrows t-shirts, I don’t smell quite as much like dirt as I did when we got back to the house. Nestling deep in the mountain of fabric, I wait for Lincoln.

I hear his laughter trickle from the stairs, a voice with his that I think is Ford’s. Some inside joke was shared between him and Lincoln when we came up the path and saw Ford standing there. I’m not sure what it was about, but the way they teased each other made me wish I had that rapport with them.

The door squeaks open and Lincoln walks inside. A pair of dark grey shorts is the only thing covering his delectable body. His hair, still damp from the shower, shines in the light radiating from the desk lamp across the room.

“I had needles stuck everywhere,” he laughs, setting a glass of ice water on the table beside the bed. “I’m not sure why we thought that was a good idea.”

He flips the lamp off and slips out of his shorts and climbs into bed next to me. I cuddle up beside him.

“I don’t think we were thinking much,” I giggle. “Well, not about the ramifications.”

“Speak for yourself.” His hand trails down my spine until it lies flat in the small of my back. “I was securing our contract.”

“Well, Mr. Landry, I like the way you deal.”

My cheek bounces with his chuckle. “And I like the way you sign on the dotted line,” he says.

A knock raps against the door. I yelp, burying myself under the blankets as Lincoln chuckles.

“I’m not dressed appropriately,” I hiss, looking at him for help.

“You’re covered,” he doesn’t quite whisper back. “Come in.”

A head full of blonde hair peeks around the corner and flips on the light.

“Hey, brother!”

“Hey, Camilla.” Lincoln sits up against the headboard. “It’s about time you got here.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been here earlier. I just got tied up.”

“Doing what?”