Sweet (Landry Family 6)

“We can do anything you want, baby.”

“I—”

I jump, but I don’t turn around. I don’t have to. Even if Griffin didn’t look like he’d seen a ghost—or in this case a six-foot tall bar owner with what I can only imagine is a glare, at best, on his face—I’d know from the scent of Nate’s cologne.

And also from the feeling of his hands gripping my waist on either side.

What’s Nate doing here?

I try to stand, but his fingers dip deeper into my waist. He holds me just like he found me and watches Griffin over my back.

Griffin, the man who was just seconds ago the hero in this scenario, has faded quickly into the background. Nate is now the main character.

My insides liquify as he holds me so tight that I can’t move, but his grip is not to the point of actual pain. It’s a delicious kind of burn, a heat so hot and so intense that I lose my breath for a moment.

“You need anything else?” Nate asks, his voice trembling with what I think is fury.

Oh, shit.

Griffin looks at me and then back at Nate. He stands and takes his wallet out of his back pocket. A few bills are laid on the counter.

He walks out without another word.

Nate’s grip releases just enough that I spin around. The freedom lights something inside me.

“What the hell was that?” I ask him, giving his glower back to him.

“I was going to ask you the same damn thing.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kira take Robbie his tacos.

Nate and I stand eye to eye for what feels like forever before either one of us gives in. He’s the one who breaks.

He takes my elbow and leads me toward his office. I jerk my arm away—getting a glare over the shoulder from him in return—but follow him nonetheless. Kira signals to me that she has things under control as we slip by the kitchen.

As soon as my ass is through the door, Nate slams it behind me.

“You know what?” I say, pointing a finger at him. “Check yourself.”

“Excuse me?” He closes the distance between us. “I need to check myself? Come again?”

“I was hoping to come again, but you just scared him off.”

His eyes go wide, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t recoil. Doesn’t hiccup so much as a breath to cut the tension between us.

Damn him.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask.

“What were you going to do, Paige? Were you gonna let that little rat bastard take you out and bend you over the hood of his car?”

“Maybe. What’s it to you, friend?”

“Are you just trying to piss me off?”

“I didn’t even know you were here.”

His chest rumbles with anger.

“You don’t get to do this, Nate. You don’t get to friend zone me and then come in here and act like I’m out of line for getting some guy’s number.”

“You got his number?”

“Yeah. And his condom size, if it matters.”

Both are lies. I don’t know why I even said that but fuck him for doing this. He deserves to be pissed.

His nostrils flare, and it would be super hot if I wasn’t so angry.

“Tread lightly,” he warns me.

“Or what? What are you going to do? Because I’ll tell you what you’re not going to do. You’re not going to see me bent over the hood of your car. Because we’re friends, which is fine. It’s grand. Thank you for being honest about that and not leading me on.” I suck in a hasty breath. “But being friends means that you have no say in what I do or who I date. What do you expect me to do? Live my life chaste because you don’t want me? Fuck off.”

Admitting that out loud to him kills a small part of my soul, but I march on because I’m no quitter. Especially when I’m mad.

“Oh, I know what you’re going to do,” I say, lifting my chin in defiance. “You’re going to just police my dates, aren’t you? Sit on the porch with a baseball bat, right, Daddy—ooh!”

Nate’s hands cup both sides of my head a split second before his mouth crushes against mine. Our bodies are so close that there’s no room for even a feather. He moves his lips against mine so assertively—as if he were afraid that I might miss the moment.

I sag against him, overtaken by the sensations rippling through my body. The heat of his breath. The softness of his tongue. The calluses on his thumbs as he presses them into my cheeks.

The smell of his cologne and the taste of peppermint on his lips. How deliciously solid his chest is and how rock hard his cock is pressed against my stomach.

My knees go weak. My nipples are hard. My legs are so heavy they’re almost unable to hold me up.