Chapter Seven
Lark
Sunshine warms my skin as a huge body holds me close.
I had forgotten how good it feels to wake up in someone’s arms. Lying here with Lawson, I find myself wondering if this ever felt this good. Getting married to the first man I dated meant there was a lot of room to grow with in my marriage. We were great partners, loved being parents together, but I never felt special to him.
Being with Lawson these past days, I have felt so special. Adored. It is a word that has played in my head a dozen times. Because he goes out of his way to hold my hand, to kiss as often as he can, to look in my eyes when we talk, to truly listen to what I have to say. It makes me feel as if he cares about what I care about, the things that interest me, and what makes me feel good.
If I am being honest with myself—Lawson is all those things.
Lovemaking has never been so...so wild, so freeing, so good. I am not afraid to tell him the things I want him to do to me. What I want to do to him. Still, it’s not dirty, filthy, aimless moments. Each time connects me to him in a deeper, stronger way that makes me fear the connection may never break.
“Stop thinking a way out of this bed,” Lawson’s voice rumbles against my back, his hand cupping my bare breast as I laugh.
Truth is, I have thought of a hundred ways to get out of this. To stop getting deeper, letting that connection grow stronger. I can’t. Rather, I do not want to. I want to lie in this hotel bed, at this lovely resort on this stunning island as long as we can. I do not want to waste a moment or miss a thing with him while we’re here.
“Stop trying to tell me what to do,” I tease him, popping my head up on my hand to stare down at him.
Lawson is a beautiful man. Thick, dark hair, those arresting light eyes, a strong jaw with its dusting of stubble, and a mouth made for loving. I trace his mouth, noting the way his pulse skips at his throat. Lingering on his face, I trace the lines of his jaw, the perfect nose, and the shape of his eyebrows.
“Going to make a bust of my beauty?”
“One could, couldn’t they? This is a beautiful face,” I murmur before I lean down to press kisses over the face in question. Lawson flushes and I smile. He ought to be used to praise by now. He must hear it all the time.
“If we’re talking beautiful faces,” he hums, sitting up to frame my face in gentle hands, his eyes darkening slowly as they look over my face. “This is the most beautiful face in the room. On this entire island.”
Feeling my heart thunder in my chest, I tip my head back. My mouth welcomes his. I sigh as he cradles my head, slowly deepening the kiss. Turning us in the bed, he pins me beneath him, powerful knee shoving both of mine open. I rub against his muscled thigh, shameless about my need. It roars to life the moment he touches me, kisses me, even looks at me.
“Lawson, baby,” I whimper as he bites at my lip, his hips thrusting his jutting cock against my wet folds. “I need you. Please, I need you.”
“Say it again,” he demands, his gaze dropping to watch how I twist beneath him, trying to get him inside me. “Tell me you need me baby.”
Gazing up at him, with the sunlight pouring in on his naked skin, his eyes darker than I have ever seen them, I nod. I do need him. More than I want to admit to myself. “Yes, baby,” I moan in desperation “I need you.”
“That’s my good girl,” he whispers so gently, tears sting my eyes.
Lawson slides inside of me, slowly, going as deep as he can. I arch beneath the delicious burn of his thickness filling me. I still ache from all the times he’s taken me, but I welcome the ache. It is the kind that feels good. Knowing that, for this moment, that emptiness inside of me is gone.
Emptiness I thought could never be filled. Lawson fills the emptiness.
Skin warmed by the sunshine bathing us both, we whisper soft, sweet things to one another. Filthy words, furious thrusts, pleasure-pain bites, or grasping hands are for another time. Tangled in the warm glow of ocean breezes, we make love as if we never have to stop. As if we will have all the time in the world to be this way, to stay connected to each other.
Tidal wave after wave of pleasure pulls me under. Lawson is always there to hold me through it, to tell me what a good girl I am, how beautiful it is to watch me come, how it makes him feel powerful, needed, wanted. And I want him to feel all those things because he is all of them to me.
“I need you,” he rasps against my throat as his forehead presses to mine, his body moving slow, dragging out our pleasure. “I need you baby.”
Closing my eyes as tears do fall from my eyes, I nod. How can we feel what we’re feeling? How can it feel so damn good, so damn right, when it’s been just days? What can come of what we’ve found here on this island?
Lawson whispers my name as he comes with a low growl. I cradle him close as we ride out the wave of our orgasms together. His kiss feels needy, hungry, urgent to tie us together as every other kiss, touch, moment has. There may be no breaking these ties and maybe I don’t want them to break.
“Lawson,” I whisper as we lie together in the afterglow, his fingertips walking over my skin, both of us catching our breath. “After the weddings...I mean I don’t know what you expect to happen.”
Pulling back, his eyes darken. It’s different than when we’re in the throes of desire, heat warming the honey-brown tones. They burn dark, his full mouth drawing a straight line. I draw back, surprised by this reaction. He has said things that made me believe maybe he wanted more than one weekend together. Things that made me hope for more than one weekend.
“Never said I had expectations, did I love?”
Voice harsh, he gives me a crooked grin that feels off. Twisted, not an actual smile. Sitting up, he swings his legs off the bed and stalks to the bathroom. Drawing in on myself, I try to fight the tears in my eyes. Try to ignore the sense of rejection I am now hit with. Glad he proved I was foolish to think it could be more.
Climbing from the bed, ignoring the tousled sheets where we just made love, I gather my clothes. Thinking better of it, I snatch his shirt up and slip it on, deciding I want to take part of him with me. Sliding it on, I grab my shoes, swiping at my tears. I won’t let him see me fall apart.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Lawson’s voice booms through the room, making me jump. At the door, I turn to glare back at him. Who does this man think he is? This boy! I smile when I turn to face him, squaring my shoulders and holding my head high. Closing the shirt to cover myself, I bounce a shoulder in nonchalance.
“Going to have brunch with the bride.”
Narrowing his eyes at me, he shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. Rehearsal is in an hour, Lark. Before cocktails with the wedding party. Wedding duties demand both of us.”
Frowning at him, I take a step closer, almost as if inspecting him. His words, the way he splays his hands then balls them up. Over and over. How his Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes dart about. Lawson is nervous. What could he be nervous about?
Wasn’t he the one who said he expected nothing?
“That’s right. Brunch is tomorrow before the wedding. Before we all go back to real life.”
Lawson narrows a gaze at me. Now he is the one doing an inspection. Trailing his eyes over me, head cocked. Hands in front of him, thumbs locked. Whatever he gathers from his inspection seems to make him more anxious. Part of me wants to smirk. To have this little win where I get to walk off with my head held high.
Closing the distance between us, he reaches out for me. Stumbling back a few feet, I wind up in the hall. Barefoot in his shirt. Lawson lets out a little growl, advancing on me, head snapping left and right. Looking for someone who might catch us together. I dart back again, heading down the hall towards my room.
Thankfully I grabbed my key card, so I let myself in my room a few doors down, letting the heavy door close before he reaches me. Letting out a string of curses, he bangs on the door, calling my name in a hushed whisper. To be sure no one hears him outside my door in a towel.
“Rehearsal is in an hour. Benji needs us now,” I talk through the door, clamping a hand over my mouth as the words break.
“Lark, let me in. We need to talk about this weekend.”
“No, it is Benji’s weekend. He needs us now,” I repeat, my head thudding on the door. They are the words I need to cling to. The truth I cannot let myself forget.
We’ve been so selfish. Wandering from the tapas dinner last night. Spending the first night fooling around instead of finding the wedding party. We did not come here for ourselves. We came here to be here for someone we love. Nothing else is as important as this weekend for my son.
“Lark...we will talk later. Before we crash that other wedding.”
Despite the twisting pain in my chest, the tears falling down my face, I smile. Lawson knows how to soften me up. Going to that wedding with him was such a beautiful evening. One I will never forget. I have never danced so much, never laughed the way we did, never shared something so special with anyone.
If that is all I get from him this weekend, it was all worth it.
Throwing the door open after I compose myself, I fix on a smile. Reaching out to press a hand to his chest, his heart pounds beneath my touch. Pushing up on my toes, I slant my mouth over his. Just a kiss. Not a promise of more or a demand to draw things out.
“If we make it to the wedding tonight, I think it would be another night to remember. If we don’t,” I trail off with a sigh, my smile not wavering because I mean my words. “We still have a lot to remember.”
“Lark, we are making it there,” he rasps almost desperately.
“This is the part where our heroine misunderstands her hero. I am not that heroine. This is not one of our filthy books, despite some of the smuttier scenes. We might have more moments worth writing about. Or we never have another moment. How about we avoid a third-act conflict? No need to hurt each other or hold one another to some sort of happy-ever-after expectation. Let’s just be here.”
Lawson seems conflicted, something flickering in his eyes. Almost as if he is giving up on something. Leaning down, he grasps my hips to pull me close, reminding me of our indecent attire. Chuckling, he nods as he brushes a kiss across my lips.
“Sure, love. This is not another one of our filthy books. No, not even close,” he hums as his eyes darken slowly.
Swallowing hard, I nod as he backs away with a smirk. Why the cryptic comment? Stalking to his door, he glances back, pulling his towel off as he steps inside. My jaw drops as he stands there, hand on his cock, stroking it as his eyes eat me up. Oh shit.
Does he mean we’re better than one of our filthy books?