Fat Cat Liar

Her body folds into mine, and she whimpers against my lips. A new build-up of desire boils inside of me.

I won’t allow myself to tell her how much I love her until I’ve cleaned up my mess. But by the end of this weekend, she’ll know that she owns me.

Chapter 17

Greer

Lawson’s lips run lightly along the side of my neck, tickling the skin in their path. I nuzzle further into the pillow, fighting the pull to open my eyes.

“Still sleepy?”

“Yes,” I lie. The huskiness in his voice and the feel of his breath on my ear have awoken every one of my senses.

His hand on my stomach snakes up, cupping my breast and sending a shudder down my spine.

“How can I sleep while you’re doing that?” I barely whisper.

“Doing what?” His other hand now slips between my legs, and his fingers draw circles around the skin.

Instantly, my body lights from within. “You have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Because, if I open my eyes, it means it’s morning, which means we have to leave in a few hours and I don’t want this weekend to end.”

“Let’s stay a few more days. I told you I have the time off.” There’s a serious edge to his tone that strikes me as odd.

I twist into him, careful not to bump his head, and untangle my arm to cup his cheek. “This week is packed for me. I have a client that is going through final radiation treatments and needs me to help her with some outfits for the holidays. And Dad’s dinner is Thursday night.”

At the mention of the dinner, I can’t miss the flare in his eyes. It’s something I’ve noticed the few times I’ve mentioned the event. “Lawson, are you really okay with not coming on Thursday night? Because, if you’re not, I’ll tell my dad I changed my mind and you will be added to the guest list.”

“No, it’s not that. I stand by my decision to meet your dad in a less formal atmosphere. I just want a little more time with you here.”

“I want that, too, but can’t we come back?”

“Anytime you want.”

“So, let’s plan a long weekend when things calm down at work.”

He nods in agreement, but his face is still marred with disappointment. It’s evident he’s got something else on his mind, and I’m determined to make him tell me.

“Talk to me,” I urge gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” He gives me an unconvincing answer right as his fingertips swirl again, slipping between my thighs and grazing along my clit.

“Wait.” I clench my legs to stop him. The delicious flurry in the pit of my stomach lurches in protest. It’s not only his touch that awakens the fire inside; it’s the anticipation that builds beyond passion. I lose my mind, become unable to think coherently.

But, in this moment, I force myself to break through the haze.

“Why are you so adamant about extending our weekend?”

“Because I’m a selfish bastard.”

“You want to explain that?”

He locks eyes with me, and I am instantly aware of the storm brewing behind his gaze. “Here, in this cabin, you are mine. I don’t have to share you with the outside world or worry about circumstances that could rip you from me. Our connection is impenetrable, and I want you all to myself.”

Circumstances that could rip you from me? His words tumble in my head, and I fight to make sense of them. There’s only one thing that comes to mind.