Page 66 of The Back Forty
“Oh, cool. Is this where you take people you’re about to murder?” I joke, trying to break the tension, even though my voice is way too breathless.
He huffs a laugh but doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he stops near a small seating area tucked behind one of the game booths. No one’s around. He stays standing, jamming his hands into his hair, looking agitated, gorgeous and entirely too close.
“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice rough and eyes heated.
I don’t answer right away because I don’t know how to answer that question. Because everything’s swirling and messy and I broke rules that I swore I’d never break again.
Because the only thing scarier than getting close to him, is the thought of what happens after I do and the possibility that we might not last.
“What do you mean?”
He exhales like I’m trying to make this harder than it needs to be, dragging a hand down his face before tipping his eyes to the sky as if he’s asking it to translate me for him.
“Dani,” he mutters, “you know what I’m asking you.”
I cross my arms, more out of self-preservation than attitude. “Nothing’s going on. I’m working, and I’m about to head back to your house and pack up my stuff so that I can get out of you and Beckham's hair.”
His brows crash together. “Why the hell would you do that?”
I blink. “Uh, because Catalina’s gone. You saw her leave this morning. You heard her leave.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And” I say slowly, like I’m explaining something obvious to a child, “that means I don’t need to stay at your house anymore. Thank you for letting me stay these past few days, but I'll head back to Isla's place now and my bedroom.”
He stares at me like I just suggested lighting his barn on fire for fun. “That’s not what it means.”
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. “Lawson, that’s exactly what it means.”
He looks wrecked. Like he’s holding something inside that’s about to split him open, and I don't get why he's so upset. At least if I’m living at my sister’s house, we won’t be tempted to do what we did this morning again.
“Are you mad?” I ask.
He blows out a rough breath. “Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe. I just… I feel like I’m in the dark about something and I hate this feeling. I feel completely out of control. Like I don’t know what’s going on here.”
Oh.
Well, that explains it. Lawson Marshall and control are a package deal. That’s something we’ve always had in common. I color code my planner, have backup plans for backup plans, and he controls his life in a different way. All internalized while projecting externally that he’s winging it. But that’s what I’ve learned over the past year that internally, he’s a planner, a guy that likes to know what’s happening just as much as I do. Which is why we thrive. I plan everything, talking it out with him, and he adjusts.
But he knows with me involved, some of the mental load is shared. And I know with him, though we’ve never said it out loud, I can count on him to be prepared too.
And in this instance, he’s probably feeling like I don’t have things under control and neither does he, so we’re both just... flailing. And for a second, yeah. I feel badly because I get it. It's a terrible feeling and one that I’m familiar with.
“Look,” I start, carefully, “so we hooked up once—”
“Twice,” he cuts in, stepping closer.
“Yes. Twice. And it was… good.”
“You’re a damn liar.” His voice is deep and steady. His eyes are full of heat as he closes the space between us. I instinctively back up until my shoulders hit the wall behind me. He’s not touching me, but the intensity in his eyes drops me right back to last night and to this morning. My pulse stutters, my nipples tighten under my shirt, and my breath catches as his gaze moves down to my low cut shirt.
“Lawson—”
“It was fucking incredible,and you know it.” His voice is almost a growl. “You said it yourself. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your pussy all morning. I need more, Dani.”
I swallow. Hard. I should say something. Anything. But I’m frozen. His hand finds my hip, warm and solid, and I feel his other arm brace against the building beside my head, caging me in with the lightest pressure. His chest presses against mine and his pelvis rocks forward. I can feel him harden in his denim jeans and my mouth parts on a gasp.
“You’re turned on right now, aren’t you?” he demands.
