Chapter 29
Lawson
“I was wondering when you’d come by,” Laura says, holding open the door.
I step inside her house, once our house, and take off my boots. Laura leads the way into the kitchen, pouring me a glass of water without asking if I want it.
“Feeling better?” she asks, waving me toward the living room.
“I am,” I tell her. “Neck stiffness and headaches are mostly gone.”
“Just in time for the school year.”
I give a nod, the both of us sitting down, half the room between us. Laura looks out the slider door for a moment, jaw tight.
“I suppose you want me to apologize,” she finally says.
I set the water she gave me down. “I wasn’t going to ask that.”
She looks at me, surprised.
“You’re entitled to your feelings, Laura. I just wish you would’ve talked to me instead of assuming Oakley was what came between us.”
There’s a look in her eye I recognize as disbelief.
“You don’t believe me?”
“You really never thought about him?” she asks. “Not even once?”
“Not like you’re thinking. It never occurred to me until after we’d split.”
She shakes her head a little. “You have feelings for him, Lawson. It’s clear to see. How are you telling me that’s new?”
I ease out a breath. “That’s not what I’m saying.
What I’m telling you is I wasn’t hiding anything back then.
I wasn’t lying. We just didn’t fit, Laura.
We tried for a long damn time, and there was some good that came from that.
But we agreed our separation was best, and I don’t want what was to come between what is. Not for either of us.”
She rubs her temples, some strain present at the corners of her eyes. “Oakley hates me.”
“He’s upset with you,” I agree. I could ask Laura why, but the truth is I trust Oakley. There’s a reason he doesn’t want me to dig. That’s enough for me. “But I hope y’all can be civil. He’s not going away.”
Laura falls silent for a long minute, her eyes on her lap. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry, Lawson. About a lot.”
“I am, too,” I tell her truthfully. I have no doubt Laura loved me. And I loved her, as well, although not in the same way. I realize that now.
But not every relationship ends in happily ever after. Not every one is meant to.
Laura doesn’t say a word when I stand. I walk from her house, ready to move forward with my life.
Oakley isn’t home from work yet when I get to his place.
I unlock the back door, opening it a crack and giving a whistle so Bell knows I’m here.
She comes trotting in before long, leaving a few dirt clumps on the floor from her hooves as she stops in front of me, waiting patiently.
Big black eyes surrounded by a snow-white face watch my every move as I pull a box of crackers from Oakley’s cupboard.
I remember those eyes staring up at me when Bell was only a calf, so much smaller than she is now, even being a miniature breed.
My chest squeezes tight when I think about the way Oakley stepped in—stepped up—to adopt Bell when Wendy needed it. He’s loved us for so long, me and my daughter both.
Was he truly in love with me, even back then? Wendy seems to think so. If that’s the case, it couldn’t have been easy for him to be intimate with me, not knowing whether or not I might ever return his interest.
But I think there was a reason I wanted so badly for it to be him, more than simply trusting him as my closest friend.
Maybe Oakley was right about me missing the obvious.
Bell carefully nibbles the crackers from my palm, some drool left behind I wash off in the sink.
I leave the dirt on the floor for the robot vacuum to deal with, Bell settling onto the rug in the living room as I pass.
I’ve finished showering and am lying on Oakley’s bed when I hear the man come through the front door.
He murmurs something quietly to Bell, the man gentle with her, loving, despite claiming she’s nothing but a nuisance. His footsteps come closer, a steady rhythm that has a smile quirking my lips.
Oakley stops dead once he reaches the doorway, his breath rushing from him when he sees me lying naked on his bed. “Jesus, Law.”
“I’m not injured anymore,” I point out.
He grunts.
“And I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“Yeah?” he asks hoarsely, his eyes trailing over me, as if he doesn’t know where to focus his attention.
“Mhm. Remi said something recently that stuck with me. He said attraction doesn’t have to be only physical. That it can be mental, too.”
Oakley’s eyes are on mine now, curiosity there.
“I think maybe I’m gray-ace,” I tell him. “Because I don’t get turned on by you naked or understand your obsession with ears—”
He huffs a throaty laugh, stepping closer.
“But I know I want you something fierce, Oak. Maybe it’s not how you want me.
Not exactly. But God, do I want you. All the time.
I want you near. I want to hear your voice, feel you, spend my time by your side.
I want you to fuck me all the goddamn time, and not just because it feels good, but because it’s you.
I want you. If that’s not attraction, what is? ”
His throat bobs in a rough swallow, a sheen in his eyes as he stops beside the edge of the bed.
“But truth be told,” I go on softly, “I’d want you even without the sex.”
“If you ever aren’t interested—”
“Then I’ll be honest about it,” I cut in, understanding the direction of his thoughts. “You’ve never initiated anything, Oak. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. But you can. I’ll tell you if I’m not in the mood.”
“I’d never pressure you,” he says vehemently, bending down until his hands are planted on the bed to either side of me, his face a foot away, the smell of the ranch and his sweat a gentle presence with his proximity. I don’t hate it one bit. “I don’t just want you for sex either, Law.”
“I know that. I do.”
“Good. Because it shouldn’t ever feel like an obligation. I don’t want it to. I only ever want you to feel good.”
“I know,” I say again, running my palms up the outsides of Oakley’s arms. “Everything with you feels good. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You with me…it feels better than good.”
He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes dipping down my body again, a heat in his gaze he doesn’t try to hide. “And right now?”
“Right now,” I say, my words measured, “I’d really like for you to join me on this bed. Preferably naked and with some part of you inside some part of me.”
He laughs, a roughened sound. “In that case…”
Oakley leans closer, dipping his head at the last moment to brush his lips over my neck. I arch my head to the side, and Oakley sucks a gentle kiss against my skin. He doesn’t stay long, leaning away to open the nightstand drawer beside the bed. He pulls out a bottle of lube and sets it beside me.
“If you want, why don’t you get a finger or two inside of yourself while I shower,” he suggests. “It’ll give me something to think about in the next three and a half minutes before I can make it back to you.”
“Should I time you?” I tease.
“Not necessary,” he assures me. “There’s no keeping me away.”
I pick up the lube as Oakley backs steadily toward the door.
He groans when I slide my heel closer to myself, the move hitching my leg up.
He doesn’t stay to watch, even as it looks like he wants to.
His shoulder clips the doorway in his eagerness to get away so he can return to me. Ten seconds later, the shower turns on.
I take my time, wetting my fingers before rubbing over myself slowly.
When something hits the shower floor, possibly Oakley’s shampoo bottle, I huff a small laugh, the man’s haste making my chest warm.
I have two fingers inside of myself when the water turns off, my cock half-hard and a steady thrum of anticipation lighting my veins.
Oakley is still damp when he steps back through the door, nude and hard himself.
His hair is mussed, as if he ran the towel over his head a couple times and called it good.
Some water is dripping down his chest and legs he doesn’t seem to notice, his entire focus on me.
Specifically on the fingers I have curled inside of myself.
He steps forward without a word, one knee on the bed beside my bent leg.
He swipes the lube, the look in his eyes almost predatory.
It’s the same look he gets every time he edges me, as he called it.
Intense concentration and a sort of hunger that makes me feel like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, being eaten whole.
When Oakley’s finger joins my own, I can’t stop the sound that breaks from my lips.
“Too much?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. Not at all. I like the stretch.”
He rumbles a low sound, his finger working a rhythm opposite to my own. The sensation has my breath stuttering, and when Oakley brings his other hand to my cock, thumb rubbing up the underside like a caress, I nearly lose track of what I’m doing.
“Love getting you like this,” he says, his finger toying with me continuously, his thumb doing the same. “When you melt against the bed, boneless and trusting. You look like you’re in heaven.”
“’Cause I am,” I manage. “Everything you do to me is heaven.”
Oakley crooks his finger, pressing my own against my prostate. My leg shakes.
“Ready for me to take over now, princess?”
In answer, I slide my fingers free, and Oakley chuckles.
He presses a kiss to the inside of my bent knee, another to my thigh.
His hand slips up my leg, following the touch of his lips, his other moving inside of me, two fingers now pressing relentlessly in that slow come hither motion that both feels wonderful and stretches me at once.
His lips continue upwards, a kiss pressed to my abdomen, one to my cock and then two, another to my pec.
He stops there, his tongue slipping up the underside of my nipple in a teasing flick.