Chapter Twenty-One
The sun didn’t beat down extraordinarily hard.
The air felt crisp and fresh, but these Gods-damned pants trapped every ounce of heat in them.
Not even thinking twice about changing at the Lockes’, my brain battled itself with many, many regrets.
Laken wasn’t sweating as we walked home, but I inched toward death.
The leather squeaked with my steps. “I swear, I have to get these pants off. I think my thighs are chafing.” Between my panting and moans of pain, I tried rubbing my legs.
Laken looked very concerned with a smug I’m-trying-not-to-laugh smirk. “We’re almost to my house, you can shower there if you want.”
Hunched over, I gazed up at him with one eye squinting from the light. “You sure? My house is literally right up the road.”
Raking a hand through his hair, Laken stretched. “I, for one, don’t want to see any harm done to your thighs.” His eyes cut to me from his periphery. “Do you?”
Fuck.
“I prefer my thighs in top shape,” I agreed and swallowed any worries pestering me. They could wait for another, more convenient time.
The moment his house came close, relief lifted from my shoulders. My thighs’ freedom dangled right in front of me. I hadn’t been in his house—the Giblins’ house—since I’d needed a cup of sugar like… maybe ten years ago.
Like at my house, a wooden fence bordered the property.
The house, a combination of stone and wood, sized slightly smaller, was the perfect size for a little family.
Covering its roof was the same straw-like material as on Eliza’s father’s barn, like a shaggy rug.
Laken came to his front door embellished with iron latches and swirls and patted his pants to find where he’d stashed his keys.
Pulling them out, he jiggled them into the lock until it clicked. I entered first.
To say I felt surprised by the lack of decorations wouldn’t be incorrect…
almost nothing hung on his walls. Exactly one blanket sat folded perfectly on the couch, one pillow, and his shoes were lined by the door.
He’d definitely adapted to his life with the Wraiths, not bringing home any evidence of a life at all. Empty, spacious, and dark.
Nothing like the Laken I remembered, the one I’d basically lived with for years when I didn’t want to return home.
“Come on.” He nodded upstairs, and I followed.
His dim-lit room appeared equally vacant.
Nothing but a bed, closet, dresser, and packed bags on the floor.
A smoky gray comforter spilled over the edges of an unmade bed.
Walking past him as if it were my room, I moved to his dresser, where several daggers were sprawled out on a cloth, shining from being recently cleaned.
Blades of silver and handles of varying metals, two were adorned with one big ruby and gold accents.
Must’ve been a matching set. One was curved for a…
specific use and I wasn’t about to ask. The last one made me stop.
Its blade was a shade darker than the others.
The handle was forged to mirror dragon scales as its cross spun out with black jewels.
The darkness of it came off so strong… so alluring—
“Don’t touch that.” Laken scared the shit out of me, and yet, I hadn’t realized my own hand hovered over it. I stepped back.
“Why?”
“It’s mine. Nobody touches it.” His voice turned cold, and I didn’t know why but one could guess by the distance in his eyes.
Noting the cloth clumped up beside it riddled with red stains, I thought it safe to assume that dagger needed more cleaning than the others. Without another word, I saluted the man and obeyed. Laken showed me to the bathroom.
Finally.
My fingers intertwined between the laces of these cursed pants.
As I counted down to the moment my skin could breathe again, it was quite a gut punch when they didn’t come off as I tugged.
I want to cry. Slipping my fingers in at my hips, I pushed and pried.
Wiggled and shook. Kicked and sucked in. Nothing helped.
To the Gods I would curse and hunt down, for I was stuck.
Ripping the cabinets in his bathroom open, I dug around hysterically for something to cut myself out of these.
I searched for anything to help. Stress sweat kicked in and the hyperactive nerves in my chest unsettled.
I was screwed. Leaning my head against the wall, I half-laughed and half-cried.
This would be my story. This wasn’t how I’d planned the night to go, but…
One option left.
I opened the door and shouted for Laken. Backing up, I bit my lip. What the fuck, man? Who else does this happen to? Leather pants = my mortal enemy. Still wearing the halter and fake sword, I quickly unlatched it as the door opened. Except when I looked up, I became even more unraveled.
Tilting my head, I couldn’t help where my stare traveled. Pausing a moment, I swallowed and slowly—very slowly—forced my attention to his face. “Umm… where—what, what happened to your clothes?”
Laken leaned against the frame, shirtless with his sculpted chest on display, his scar stretching over his ribs, looking as if something was wrong with me. His eyes darted around; his hand sat on the door handle. “I thought something was wrong,” he exhaled.
There might’ve been a chance my shouting gave that impression.
“And believe it or not, I don’t want to be dressed as a dragon all day.”
I should’ve been able to breathe. I shouldn’t have stared. I shouldn’t have felt all the heat in my body travel south. But I did. He’d changed. And in a lot more ways than I knew of. No, no, Reece. “Why didn’t you put a shirt on?”
Crossing his arms as he straightened with his hip against the counter, he gawked at me. “Because, Reece, you called for me.”
Damn, he had a point. “Right.” I called for him and he came. He always did. He…
“Reece…” he cautioned. “Do you want something?”
Shit. Yes—no. No! No? Yes? What?
This panic ran over me with the force of a hundred chickens, but it took one look into Laken’s eyes and I remembered this was Laken.
And somehow, I relaxed. I could breathe.
I knew him and he knew me. It wasn’t anything new.
I hummed, looking down at my pants. I surrendered. The white flag waved. “I’m stuck.”
“You’re what?” He laughed, coming closer.
Showing him, I tried to pull them off and once again, I failed. “I’m stuck.”
Inches in front of me, he raised a hand to my waist but paused. “You want me to take them off?”
“Well, I don’t want to live in them,” I argued.
Snickering with a shake of his head, he smirked as his fingers slipped between my skin and the leather, sending a bolt of energy through my bones. “It’s a good thing I have some experience here… taking off your clothes, I mean.”
I tossed him a look despite the fact he couldn’t see. “I hate you.”
Walking around me, undoubtedly searching for a weak spot allowing enough room for me to move, his hand glided along my back. “No, you don’t.”
No. I didn’t.
And he knew.
Laken pulled and yanked in all the ways I’d tried. I leaned one way, he tried another. I braced myself on the counter and he nearly dragged me to the floor. He whispered vulgar words and grunted. At least watching him squirm brought some laughs into this sticky situation.
“Lie down.”
Bad idea. Bad idea. No. “Fine.”
I lay on his stone-cold floors and surprisingly, the chill cooled some of my spiraling heat.
I sat back on my elbows; Laken kneeled over me and wrapped his fingers around my pants.
Deep-blue eyes peeked up at me and I knew this was the picture I wanted bottled up to keep with me forever.
Forget his dimpled smile, forget his beautiful resting face, I wanted Laken Augustus hovering above my legs ready to rip my pants off.
“Ready?”
I nodded and he started working the pants down from my waist. Grunts and spread-out come ons and damn its were said.
I tried grabbing onto the edge of the tub and bracing against the counter to refrain from being tugged down with each pull.
Lifting my hips over and over, he moved from one side to the other, working me like a corkscrew.
A couple minutes in, he’d made it over my thighs and after that—
With one final yank, Laken flew back with the pants in hand and sat against the door laughing.
“Oh my Gods, thank you.” I sat up and rubbed my poor legs.
Messy strands of wavy hair fell around my face, tussled from the battle.
As I soaked up my newfound freedom, our eyes locked and the smile that curled on my lips widened more than any before.
Sitting in front of me on his bathroom floor—my best friend.
The one who’d trespassed to pick me flowers.
The one who’d read my favorite books because they reminded him of home.
The one I’d been waiting for, scared to have back, but wanted more than anything. Needed more than anything.
The one giving me the eyes—the fuck-me eyes.
Laken stood. Walking to me, he offered a hand and lifted me to my feet. His own dark-blond hair had been ruffled and scattered, the veins in his hands ran boldly. He wouldn’t meet my stare. “I should go so you can get dressed.”
The air hummed between us, fireworks going off from the heat. My mind spiraled, the tension in my stomach rose. He should go. I should let him. Unless… Maggie’s words replayed in my head.
Get it out of your system.
Get it out of your system.
Get it out of my system.
Laken turned, but I grabbed his wrist. He spun to me, twisting his hand into mine and the words fell out. “I can’t get the vest off, either.” I stood breathlessly to see if he’d bite the bait.
Holding my gaze for an excruciating moment, he squeezed my hand.
“Turn around.” His voice, low and soft, cut directly through me and I did as he said.
Again, his fingers laced themselves through the strips of my corset.
But behind me, he brushed my bare legs and my fingers ghosted along the fabric of his pants.
“You know”—I peeked over my shoulder—“if we keep working with each other every day, doing jobs like today, people are going to think we’re together.”
His deep hum burned my core. Just a fucking hum, Reece. Chill out. “You’re right… and that would be awful.”
“Horrible.” My hands shook from holding back.
His breath brushed my neck, my skin ran rigid with goose bumps. His lips grazed over my body until he leaned away and said, “Tragic.”
My stomach felt as if it’d been thrown off a cliff, my knees wobbling. But as Laken pressed against me, it became obvious he wanted this as much as me. I grabbed his leg, needing to feel him closer. “Because we aren’t getting back together,” I said.
He pulled the rest of the lace out, leaving the vest dangling on my chest.
Laken kissed the space between my throat and shoulder, gentle yet heavy. “No, we are not.”
The vest hit the floor.
“Never,” a whispered moan. My head dropped back against him, giving him better access to my body as a firm hand wrapped around my waist, curling over my thigh. My hand raked through his hair behind me.
His lips left my skin, and he breathed out a raspy “Ever.”
My back arched for him as his other hand slipped under my shirt and cupped my breast. His thumb moved over my nipple. The hand around my thigh moved between my legs and pulled me tightly against all of him. I caved, turning to face him. I’d fallen over the edge.
“Again.”
Our mouths collided, burning hot and starving for more.
His tongue brushed my lip, his teeth tugging gently.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I couldn’t bring him close enough.
He cupped my thighs, rolling my hips against him.
Opening my mouth and my body for him—he took it.
My breasts brushed against his chest, nipples tingling.
A hand on the back of my head entangled itself in my hair, pulling and tilting my head back as his lips traveled down.
I dissolved under him like the wick of a burning candle he’d been the flame to. No turning back, no way out. I couldn’t have told you my name if you’d asked it—until he whispered it from his lips into mine.
“Should we talk about this first?” he asked, flush against my throat.
A moaned “Mm-hmm” was all I managed.
“I can’t think of words,” he admitted.
“Then maybe shut up,” I suggested, out of breath.
“It was the dragon costume, wasn’t it?” His voice rumbled against my ribs.
“It was the obedience to your master,” I joked, barely alive and breathing.
He pinned my hands in place on the counter as his mouth grazed over my nipple, sucking, and lowering even more. Releasing me as he kneeled, his hands gripped my thigh, lifting my leg over his shoulder for better access.
Leaning against his counter, my legs went entirely weak as his tongue traveled between my legs. Kissing where he wanted, licking where he wanted. His tongue moved over my nerves, and I bit back a moan. He wrapped a hand around my back, pressing him farther into me.
His tongue ate—and his finger glided in—and I lost it.
My fingers raked through his hair, feeling him where I needed to.
He dragged me over the edge until I shattered under him.
I raked my hand through his hair, panting.
“Laken,” I rasped. He continued. “Laken,” I repeated louder, and he glanced up.
“Yes?”
“The bed. Now.”
Laken didn’t hesitate; lifting me around his waist, he held on to me like letting me go was a sin, like he’d never stop touching me now that he started.
Until the spell broke.
Three knocks came to his front door. He nearly dropped me, barely laying me on the bed. “Who is that?”
Laken shook his head.
Three knocks came again, followed by the door opening. “You didn’t lock it?” I asked, covering my body before some random person saw my goods.
“Laken?” A voice—a woman’s voice—called and repeated.
Mouth open, I waited for his reaction. What fucking woman walked into his house?
Yanking his head up, he paused with a blank face before apparently realizing something. “Rebecca?”
What the fuck did he just say? My head whipped to his, brows raised and growing more and more irritated.
Slumping his head down, panting, Laken mouthed a quick “Fuck” before backing off of me.
He jumped for his clothes, leaving me bewildered, astonished, and half-naked on his bed.
“Reece, just give me a minute.” He paused, hopping on one foot while sliding his pants on.
“I’ll be back,” he added, as if he weren’t two seconds away from ravishing me.
Who the fuck is Rebecca?