Chapter 20 #2
Richard laughs and turns all his attention to me. “I’m sorry. I’m probably coming off a little strong, aren’t I?”
Gee, buddy. You think?
I blink my lashes at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.
“Look, all I’m saying is that when I see something I want, I go for it.
And I know I can be a little overbearing about it, so forgive me.
I just know that you’re special. And I want to get to know you.
Beyond this weekend, you know? Minneapolis isn’t that far from Chicago.
We can make it work,” he explains like it’s already a sure thing.
“Wooow.” I draw out the word while he starts perusing the menu. “You got all that from one little old, ‘ hi, my name is…’ huh?”
Why am I smiling? This isn’t cute behavior.
Richard’s hand flexes where it rests on the table, and a moment later, he pulls his arm away and downs half his water in two gulps.
He’s nervous. And dammit, why am I finding it endearing?
To be fair, it’s in a pitying sort of way. Like how you feel bad for the little guy who just wants to get the pretty woman’s attention, but she’s more interested in the muscle man even though she probably knows he’ll be disappointing in bed, and the other guy will probably rock her world.
Not that I think Richard could rock my world.
Coooool. Cool, Lucy. Now you’re internally rambling. Why did I agree to this?
I’m about to open my mouth and tell him there’s nothing to be nervous about when a man clearing his throat interrupts me. Lawson is standing near our table, his hand on the back of some pretty blonde woman.
Jealousy curls its evil, green talons into my lungs, filling the holes they create with a poison so thick and noxious I have to reach for my water to dilute the bile that rises in my throat.
“Well, funny we should run into you guys tonight,” Lawson drawls. The blonde looks between us, him, and the hostess waiting for them four tables away.
“Yeah, funny, eh?” Richard bites out. He leans back against the booth, swinging his arm around me once more, and Lawson’s gray eyes darken to storm clouds as he tracks the movement.
“Why don’t we all have dinner together?” My boss suggests, already ushering the blonde into the booth across from us.
“Well, u-uh… I mean… it’s kinda weird, isn’t it?” she stammers.
Richard makes a sound of agreement, narrowing his eyes at Lawson like he’s trying to pierce his soul with his gaze—a silent, what the fuck are you doing , etched across his features.
“Oh, I don’t think so. Lucy and I have dinner quite often back in Chicago. She’s fond of my parmesan potatoes.” He signals to the hostess. “We’ll be dining with them.”
Is he for fucking real?
I haven’t had his parmesan potatoes since high school. And we don’t have “dinner quite often,” as he so shamelessly puts it, trying to imply that we’re close—which we are, but… he’s doing this on purpose !
Lawson ignores my glare, beaming his gorgeous smile at each of us before focusing on the menu. The blonde woman peers at me across the table, her brown eyes flitting over my neckline before darting back to Lawson, no doubt assessing our relationship regardless of company policy.
Suddenly, I realize I’m even less hungry than before.
When our waitress arrives, I smile sweetly up at her and ask for a shot of tequila, delighted that Lawson doesn’t object with words—only his disapproving stare and an arched brow.
“And please, keep them coming.”
The waitress does not, in fact, keep them coming.
Lawson cuts me off after two, even though Richard seems more than willing to let me drown myself in Patrón, and makes sure I order more than just the salad I was prepared to pick at.
Richard and Marilyn Monroe seem to be hitting it off spectacularly, though. If I have to listen to another one of his ice fishing stories, I’m going to bang my head against the glass table.
As it is, Lawson is currently telling Richard all the reasons he’s wrong for using artificial bait, and I want to plug my ears because I hate fishing.
I hate how this evening is going, and all I want to do is climb back into my fluffy robe, spread out on my big, comfy bed, and fall asleep to a rom-com .
Marilyn—yes, I’m aware her name is Judy—bats her falsies between them like she wants to drizzle chocolate on them both and eat them for dessert.
Richard nudges my shoulder to pull me into him, and his lips ghost over my ear as he whispers loudly, “Why don’t we take this party away from your overbearing boss?”
Marilyn pouts and glances at Lawson, who looks like he’s about to leap over the table and shove my date’s face down into what’s left of his moussaka. I play into it, turning my head, which brings our faces so close together that his lips could brush against mine with the slightest movement.
“Okay.”
A flash of excited surprise fills his blue eyes before he lifts his hand to try and signal our waitress for the check.
Continuing to ignore Lawson, I place my hand on Richard’s thigh. “Would you mind letting me out? I’d like to freshen up before we leave,” I state with the sultriest lilt I can muster.
The man nearly trips over himself as he scrambles out of the booth so fast it’s comical. I press my hand to his chest and give him a demure “thank you” before walking toward the bathroom, making sure to put a little extra sway in my hips for Lawson to stare at.
I figure I have about two to three minutes to think of an excuse to go back to my room— alone —before it looks like I’m taking a poo instead of checking my appearance.
That’s actually a good excuse! Tell Richard your souvlaki isn’t settling right, and you aren’t feeling well.
When I open the door, no one else occupies the bathroom. It’s small, with only two stalls, but clean .
Leaning against the vanity, I check that my lipstick isn’t smudged or worn off too badly. And a few seconds later, my heart jumps into my throat as the door slams open. Lawson storms in, locking the door behind him.
“Lawson! What are you—” My words die in my throat as he lifts his hand to collar my neck, walking me backward until I’m pressed against the wall.
“Are you trying to piss me off?” Fire and brimstone fill his gravelly tone with so much heat it sends a slick wave of arousal between my legs.
His reaction fills me with something I can only describe as immense power. Like it doesn’t matter what I say. This man is ready to drop to his knees to prove that he’s the only one I should be leaving this restaurant with.
“I thought you didn’t care?” I arch a brow, relishing how his nostrils flare at my daring question.
“I didn’t want to, but it turns out that I do. I very much fucking do ,” he growls. “Now, you don’t want to be here anymore than I do, isn’t that right, rainbow?”
Lawson’s so authoritative, demanding my compliance with a squeeze as his other hand drifts down my belly to the hem of my dress. Silently, I shake my head slightly.
“That’s right. You’d rather be naked, spread out on my bed, waiting for me to spank your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.
” He presses against me, swiping his fingers up the center of my thong, where I’m wet and needy and desperate to feel his touch.
I whimper as his lips ghost my skin. “And then, when you’ve been thoroughly punished, I’m going to spread those thighs and eat your pussy for dessert before I fuck you bare and fill you so full of my cum, you’ll never forget who your daddy is because I’ll be dripping between your legs for the rest of your life. ”
God, yes.
My body screams for his touch, but my heart shudders at his words. For the rest of your life.
So possessive. So final. But at this point, he’s primed me to expect his immediate dismissal whenever we get intimate, and it isn’t fair.
My voice is hoarse when I reply, “You can’t keep doing this, Lawson. You can’t keep saying you want me and then telling me we can’t.”
I feel betrayed when tears prick my eyes, but he leans forward and kisses them away. The touch is so featherlight I barely feel it.
“I’m done fucking around, Lucy.” He shoves my underwear to the side and plunges two fingers into me.
A gasp flies from my mouth and into his as he lays his lips over mine, swallowing every sound I make as he pumps in deep, quick, hard, and so fucking good that he has me coming in under a minute.
I don’t even register what’s happening as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them in my open mouth.
“Do you taste this?” Instinctively, I close my lips around them and suck my essence off him. “This is what only I can do to you.”
Lawson kisses me once more, then releases my throat and steps back to fix my dress. He pulls out his room key and hands it to me. “You have five minutes to go upstairs and get ready. I’ll tell your date you aren’t feeling well.”
Ready? Ready for what? Is this finally happening?
My internal questions must be obvious on my face because his gaze softens, and he reaches up to brush his knuckles along my cheek.
“Tonight, I’m going to finally make you mine, Lucy Bradee.
Tomorrow, you will still be mine, and I plan on spending as much time as possible fucking that fact into you until it’s engrained on your fucking soul. ”
So poetic, and downright fucking filthy, and utterly romantic.
His voice is low and husky. “Clock is ticking, rainbow. Get going before I fuck you right here. My self-control is close to snapping, and you deserve better than being fucked on a dirty restaurant vanity.”
I’ve never power-walked so damn fast in my life.