Page 14 of Sawyer

“I did.” His eyes flick to my mouth. “Let’s be quick.”

He keeps his hand on me as we walk into the Mercantile. It’s tiny but cute, an insanely expensive convenience store covered in subway tile and filled with branded sweatshirts and fourteen-dollar cups of freshly squeezed orange and grapefruit juice.

Standing in front of the cooler, Sawyer surveys the selection. “What are you feelin’? Should we stick with beer? Try wine? They have champagne.”

“The champagne is really good.” The girl behind the counter nods eagerly at him.

I can’t help but smile. Seriously, how did I end up with this guy? How is he taking me home when he clearly can have anyone he wants?

The only explanation I can think of is that maybe the universe finally took pity on me and sent a cowboy my way. One worth spending time with.

“Let’s try the champagne, then.” I grab the bottle, then laugh when I see the price tag. “Just kidding. It’s a hundred and fifty bucks.”

Sawyer grabs another bottle. “We’ll take two.”

“What the hell are we celebrating?”

“My final night on earth, of course.” His dimples pop when he smiles, and I get that weak feeling in my knees again.

“You’re funny.”

“And you laugh at my jokes, which I appreciate.”

“Just doing the Lord’s work.”

“Amen.” Sawyer sets his champagne on the counter. He drops his hand from my neck to take my bottle and sets it beside the other one. Then he’s digging into his pocket and pulling out a money clip before thumbing through a wad of cash.

“And some of those too.” Briefly looking up, he nods at the box of Trojans behind the counter.

The girl at the counter blushes. “Just one box?”

“Make it two.” He smirks. “One for each bottle.”

The throb between my legs becomes acute. I’m smiling so hard that my face hurts.

“And a pack of Parliament Lights.” I point to the cigarettes. “Only one, though.”

Sawyer chuckles, a deep rumble that draws my nipples to hard points. “I like you, Ava.”

“I like our sinner’s chest.”

The girl drops everything into a shiny plastic bag. Sawyer throws out four hundred-dollar bills and grabs the bag, telling her to keep the change.

He puts his hand on my neck and steers me to the elevators. No words. Just the sound of his boots on the marble floor, his footsteps sounding a steady, if slightly hurried, beat that coincides with my pulse.

Holy shit, I’m about to have sex with a hot, and apparently loaded, cowboy.Only in Texas would you find a man with rough handsanddeep pockets.

What other surprises does he have up his sleeve? To be honest, I’m not sure how much more I can take before I really do swoon. I can’t remember the last time someone turned me on like this.

Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever been out in Austin on a Saturday night with nothing to do and nowhere to be. I don’t owe anyone a damn thing. Not my time, my energy. My attention. This isn’t real life.

This kind of freedom doesn’t exist in my world.

Except it does tonight. And that could very well explain why I’m gripped by such ferocious need.

Or maybe that’s what I have to tell myself, because I’ve learned that insane chemistry only leads to insane complications. That’s the last thing I need. I’m finally standing on my own two feet, and I have no plans to let anyone knock me down.

The elevator doors open with a ding. Another couple joins us inside, which is kind of a bummer because I was planning on attacking Sawyer the second the doors closed.

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