Chapter 25
LAWSON
My apartment is too quiet. And far too lonely after spending the weekend and then some with my family and Carlie.
I drop my bag inside the door and flick the light on. Four days went as fast as four hours, and after one non-eventful flight home, I made sure Carlie got home okay before catching an Uber home.
With a plan and a backup plan, including the gala, I’m hopeful we can pull Serenity out of the red and have the place thriving, if not improving exponentially.
Despite that, things feel off with me and Carlie.
I have no idea what she and Reed were talking about on the porch our last night in Montana, but whatever it was, she’s been distracted since.
Closed off, even. The gut-sinking feeling that I’ve ruined everything twists, turning my stomach contents of airport food and a cold coffee to lead.
“Dammit.” Fingers threading through my hair, I slump onto the sofa. “How could I be so fucking stupid?”
I pull my phone from my back pocket and tap out a message.
Carlie, thanks for the weekend.
Nope, scratch that. I delete it and start again.
Carlie, if this weekend was uncomfor—
Urgh.
I delete that, too, and toss the phone onto the sofa. I flop backward and stretch out on the cushions. The day’s done and dusted at around nine in the evening, and I couldn’t be bothered to text the guys. With a groan, I close my eyes, resting my forearm over my face.
Let’s hope we can pull off the rest of this quarter and the next before one of us ends up leaving.
My phone buzzes, the screen lighting up.
Carlie.
I fly up off the sofa embarrassingly fast, fumbling the phone. I slide the bar across and answer.
“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. I got home and realized I have the wrong bag.”
I snap my gaze to the bag by the door. Not my bag. Her rose-gold luggage sits against the wall by my front door.
“Damn, you need it now, or . . .”
“Well, yeah.”
“Oh, so.” I rub a hand behind my neck, my words suddenly drying up. “You want me to bring it over?”
“If it’s not too much trouble. Besides, I don’t think my Gucci will look any good on you tomorrow at the office.”
“You never know.”
“Laws, I need my things. Please?”
“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Thank you.”
The line disconnects. I stare at the bag by the door. How did I mix that up with my silver one? I guess I wasn’t really paying attention to the luggage, only to the woman traveling with me.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I swipe up my wallet and keys and grab the bag, leaving the apartment before my pride can take a hit. The woman needs her things.
It takes forty minutes to get to Carlie’s, and when I get there the foyer is quiet.
It’s almost ten. Shit. I head to the elevator and hit the button for the fourth floor.
When the rising cubicle slows with a ding, I step out of the sliding door and head for her apartment. I raise a fist to knock but hesitate.
I’ve never been so self-conscious trying to do the right thing before in my life. After the last night, things seem different—and not in a good way. Needing to know either way, I raise my hand and knock.
The door opens a moment later, revealing a bed-ready Carlie. Her hair is up in a messy bun and her face washed, free of makeup. Navy satin pajamas, a button-down top and long pants, cling to her curves. She’s stunning.
“Thanks,” she breathes, taking the handle from my hand.
“Sure.” I slide my useless hands in my pockets. “Well, it’s late and I should get home. Do you have my bag?”
“Oh yeah, come in.”
I step inside, and she closes the door. “Sorry, I’ll go grab it. I opened it before I even realized it wasn’t mine.” She walks through the apartment to her bedroom. I lean on the doorframe and wait as she slides the bag from the bed and rolls it toward me.
“Promise I didn’t look at your stuff.” The cheekiest smile blooms over her gorgeous damn face.
“My Spider-Man undies are safe from prying eyes, then?”
Her laughter echoes through the apartment, and it’s then I realize I didn’t see Millie.
“Where’s Millie?”
Her laughter fades. “She doesn’t get back for another three days.”
“Right.”
“Just me here for the next few nights, which only happens about once a year.” She studies my face. It takes all I have to not push off the doorjamb and take her face in my hands, crash my mouth over hers, and devour her where she damn well stands.
“Laws?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, sorry, I’ll go.”
She gives me a shy smile.
Since when is this woman shy around me?
I frown, taking my bag from her and making my way toward her front door. Reaching it, I turn back. She’s hanging back in the space between the entrance and the kitchen, her bottom lip worried through her teeth.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s just as confused about this as I am.
A moment passes as we stare at each other, the tension so thick you could mold it with your bare hands. She gazes at my face before settling on my mouth.
I should leave. “I—”
“Law—”
“Sorry, I should,” I rasp, nodding sideways to the door.
“Sure, see you tomorrow.” Her face falls as if that’s the last thing she wants.
Deciding not to push her, I turn back for the door. I have the handle depressed and the door open an inch when she crowds me from behind, her hand slamming onto the door at my shoulder.
“No.” The word is barely more than a whisper as the door clicks shut. I drop my head to it as her warmth disappears from behind me.
“What are we doing, Princess?” I grumble into the hard surface.
“Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve never been so back and forth about anything in my entire life.”
The tone she uses, almost accusing, has me spinning back. She stands, hands by her sides and chest heaving, mere inches from me.
I close the last of the distance between us. “Tell me what you want.”
“I—”
“Don’t overthink it or attach some misguided notion that my motives are anything but straight down the line. I’m not built that way, and you know it.”
She huffs a breath, her face turning desperate, like she’s been denying herself something for so long the restraint is painful.
“You know what? I’m deciding for the both of us.”
I cup her face. When she doesn’t move from my hold, I crash my mouth to hers, running my tongue along the seam of her lips. She opens, and I claim her. Palms snap to my chest, pushing, and I break away, searching her face as it registers every mood on the scale of human emotions.
Finally, it settles on a combination of surprise and need.
“Tell me to leave, and I will.” I give her one more chance to send me away.
Brown eyes burn into mine as she doesn’t breathe a word.
“Fuck, Carlie, baby. You’ve been driving me insane since our first day at Serenity.”
A small smile tips up her lips, but she swallows. She’s never been so quiet, ever. I tilt my head, tracking a thumb over her bottom lip. “Talk to me, Princess.”
Her eyes close, and she leans into my touch. “I can’t.” Her words are threadbare.
“Look at me,” I grind out.
Her eyes remain closed as she places her palms on my chest. They slide up my neck, and her gaze finally meets mine as I collar an arm around her waist, tugging her into my hold. “Let me in, baby. It’s been long enough.”
A breathy sob slips from her lips as her fine fingers move over my jaw, and she pulls me down to her. “Don’t you dare break my heart, Lawson Rawlins.”
“Not going to happen.”
“You can’t promise that.” Her gaze searches my face.
“I can promise you I will break my own heart before I let yours take a hit.”
“Can I have that in writing?” She smiles, and it’s meek and wobbly.
Fuck. Her Achilles heel, offered up to me on a silver damn platter.
“Will be on your desk in the morning, baby.”
Pushing up on her tiptoes, she brushes her lips over mine. I stand, letting her explore as her hands wander, breaths turning choppy. Fingertips run over the angles of my face, lips nipping my own, as I grip her waist with my hands, holding her close.
My cock stretches against the confines of my Levi’s, and I drop my head, kissing my way up her neck. She’s soft, delicious. Like I knew she would be. I run a hand over her belly, and her breath hitches.
“Laws, please.”
Hands sliding under her ass, I pull her up and onto my hips. Her legs wrap around my waist, her mouth devouring my own. I turn back and slam her into the door. Hands tugging through my hair, she gasps. “Fuck, too many clothes . . .”
I suckle my way down her neck to her collarbone. Her back arches off the door, offering up her hard peaks that are straining against the silky fabric of her pajama top. God, how much I want to drag those into my damn mouth.
Thrusting my hips against her, I pin her to the door. Making sure she is secure and won’t fall, I work on her buttons, slow like. Taking my time, I flick one open, then another.
Brown eyes burn into me as if pleading with me to hurry the hell up.
I slow my pace a little to see the reaction I get.
She doesn’t disappoint, pouting before trying to rip her pajama top from her body.
“Slow down. We’re savoring this.”
Her eyes widen. “We are?”
“Absolutely,” I rasp. The last button pops free, and I drop my mouth to her breast, sucking the nipple. She bucks against the door with a wild little whimper.
She’s fucking perfect.
“Oh fuck, Lawson.”
I roll the hard peak with my tongue, earning a fist that clamps down in my hair. I bite down and suck the burn that would follow away with one long draw, letting her nipple pop from my lips. Her shoulders are set back onto the door, her head tilted to one side as she writhes against it.
“Baby, look at you.” I brush my fingers over the side of her temple, and she turns to face me. My fingers brush over her lips. “More?”
“More.”
I peel her from the door, walking through the apartment with her wrapped around my waist. Her hands wander my face, her kisses dotting over my jaw and down my neck. I lose my footing as I groan into her neck before we reach her bedroom.
“You sure?” I rasp.
“Yes, Cowboy. I’m sure.”
I set her down on her feet, and she steps back, putting distance between us as she slides the pajama top from her shoulders and it hits the floor.
My rock-hard cock turns impossibly harder, throbbing as each breath burns through my lungs.
My body vibrates with each heartbeat, blood thundering through my body, concentrating south.
“Now the rest, Princess.”
“Who knew you’d be bossy in the bedroom?” Her words are full of sass, as is the curl of her lips as she slips a finger behind the waistband of her pajama pants on each hip.
They join her top and she stands in only black lace panties, stealing the last of my breath at the sight of her.