Page 83 of The Back Forty
“It doesn’t feel the same.”
“That’s not the cologne you’re feeling, sweetheart, that's what's between us. The pheromones,” he growls out.
I want his hands on me so badly it physically aches.
This is a bad idea. A terrible idea. And yet… I want him.
“I'm glad to know,” he murmurs, eyes searching mine, “that I’m not the only one struggling. That I’m not alone in feeling like your rules are cutting me in half.”
I wet my lips. His gaze drops there immediately, heat flashing behind his eyes. He releases my hair and takes a step back, like it pains him to be close to me.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face, across his jaw. His voice is hoarse. “Alright. I’ll see you in the morning at the airport.”
He turns, hand on the doorknob, shoulders bunched up like he's restraining himself. And I’m a mess. Breathless, flustered, throbbing everywhere.
“You’re just gonna leave me like this?” I whisper.
He turns back slowly. His eyes are dark and tortured. “I’m respecting your wishes.”
“You’re gonna get me all hot and turned on then send me back out there in front of your family? They'll know what we were doing in here.”
His expression softens slightly, but there’s still fire beneath it.
“That wasn’t my intention. I apologize.”
“I believe you,” I whisper. “But here I am now. Hot. And bothered.”
He shakes his head, like he’s trying to physically shake off the temptation. “I’m listening to you, Dani. You told me we needed to stop. I’m respecting you.”
I push off the sink, stepping toward him with fresh confidence now. “Well, I’m asking you to disrespect me.”
He turns to me fully now, and his eyes search mine for the truth—whether I mean it, whether I understand what I’m asking.
I do.
I want him. All of him. His hands. His mouth. The way he makes me feel when he looks at me like this. I know it’s reckless, maybe even unfair since I've told him we can't be more. But I’m not thinking in logic anymore. I’m thinking in want and need. And beyond that, I'm thinking that maybe things could be different. Maybe Lawson and I together could feel like safety.
He crosses the space between us in two steps. His hands find my hips, his body presses me gently but firmly back until thesink is at my spine and he’s right there, crowding my space with everything I’ve been trying to avoid.
“It ain’t a porta-potty,” he rasps, mouth at my ear, voice rough as gravel, “but it’s still a bathroom. Now turn around, grip the sink, and let me give you some relief.”
Chapter 32 – Lawson
Dani spins around without any hesitation. Bends slightly at the waist, palms braced against either side of the downstairs sink, the back of that velvet red skirt hitches up, clinging to the curve of her ass like it was stitched onto her body.
My hands settle at her hips, greedy and eager to touch her after what feels like has been days. “You want to come?”
She nods, watching me through my reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are hazy and heated, but there’s something else flickering behind them too. I'm not sure what it is but I sure hope it's not doubt in her decision because I’ve never been surer.
I wonder what she sees when she looks at me like this. If she still sees her boss, the complication, the boundary that she set and then invited me to break again. Or if she sees past all that now. Past the title, suit jacket, boardrooms and expectations—sees the man who’s spent most of his life feeling invisible, only ever really seen when he’s performing and making the family rich. Pitching.Closing. Interviewing. Selling the dream of the perfect, Marshall products that each of my siblings have dreamt up. A name that I’ve never felt worthy of claiming for myself.
“Words, Dani,” I remind her gently, my voice deep and coaxing.
She exhales shakily, mouth parting. “Yes, please. Please let me come.”
That’s all I need.
I reach for the hem of her skirt and ease it up, bunching the velvet around her waist until it pools like crushed wine. And fuck, she’s unreal. Her ass, thick and round and framed perfectly in a black thong that’s begging to be removed. I snap the band, just hard enough to make her hiss, then crouch down into a kneel and peel it from her legs, guiding her to step out of it. It feels like I'm unwrapping an early Christmas gift.
