Page 71 of Shootout Daddies
“You’re always so… distant. Short. Like I annoy you.” I cross my arms, bracing myself. “You can just tell me. If it’s me, I’d rather know.”
He stares at me, something flashing behind his eyes. His jaw ticks once, tight. His shoulders shift, restless, like he’s trying to shake something off. “It’s not like that anymore.”
“Anymore?”
His throat works. He takes a step closer. Then another. He’s breathing harder now, hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“You want the truth?”
The air between us crackles, heavy and dangerous. My stomach knots with anticipation.
His gaze pins me. “It wasn’t the first time I saw you.”
My lips part. “Saw me?”
“On the balcony. The other night.” His voice is clipped. His jaw is locked tight, but his eyes are burning. “You. Them. Everything. I know the three of you are together. I wasn’t short with you because I dislike you. I was… thrown.”
Heat rises in my face, hot and sharp. “You—what?”
“I wasn’t looking for it,” he says quickly. “I was working. Looked up, and there you were. I told myself to look away. To shut the door. To pretend I hadn’t seen. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.”
My pulse skitters. My legs back me into the sofa. “Why are you telling me this?”
His chest rises and falls, hard and uneven. “Because you asked why I don’t like you.” His laugh is short, bitter. “The truth is, I like you too much. I’ve been trying not to want you. And failing.”
The words slam into me, stripping everything bare.
He takes a step closer, then stops, holding himself rigid. “I shouldn’t say this. I shouldn’t even be here. But I can’t pretend anymore.” His voice roughens, breaking. “I want to kiss you. Fuck, I want to. But only if you want it, too. Tell me no, and I’ll walk out right now.”
The air rushes out of my lungs. My body is already betraying me, every nerve lit, every thought tangled in him. But still, I hear the restraint in his voice.
I swallow hard. “And if I say yes?”
His eyes darken, his hand flexing at his side like he’s holding back. “Then I’ll kiss you. Just say the word.”
I can only stare, my heart thrashing, heat flooding low in my belly. I should say no. I should think of Rhett, of Hunter. Of everything this could complicate.
But the word that leaves my lips is soft, shaky, and certain.
“Yes.”
His breath shudders out, ragged relief spilling across his face.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, and then he’s crossing the space. He stops close, so close his breath brushes my lips, and waits.
This time, I move first. I tilt my chin up and close the distance.
The kiss explodes between us, raw and hungry, a collision of every suppressed thought and stolen glance. But it’s not stolen anymore. It’s mine as much as his.
I fist my hands in his shirt, dragging him closer, opening for him when his tongue slides against mine. It’s not careful like it is with Rhett and Hunter. It’s raw, frantic, desperate.
And damn, I want it.
A groan rumbles out of him, low and rough, like he’s been holding this in forever. His hands find my waist, gripping tight but not trapping, grounding me.
When his lips leave mine to trail down my jaw, I whisper, breathless, “Landon…”
He stills instantly, forehead pressed to mine, his breath hot and ragged. “Say no and I’ll stop. Right now. I swear it.”
