Chapter 34

Lawson

My lips part, a puff of air leaving my lungs when I watch Delilah climb in my truck and breathe deep. I know she does not smell what I longed for every day when I got inside. To my despair, the scent of our love-making didn’t last as long as I’d hoped.

“You like the smell in here?” She nods, pink creeping up her neck to her cheeks at being called out. “The leather of the seats?”

It’s all I can smell now.

She shakes her head. “Your cologne. You’ve always smelled so good.”

“I can say the same thing about you.” I crank the truck and pull out of the parking lot, praying I hit every single red light between here and her apartment. “It smelled like both of us until Tuesday. Made me hard as steel every time I got inside.”

Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip as chill bumps race up her arms and disappear under the short sleeves of her t-shirt.

“I was sore for two days,” she confesses as her head tilts a few inches to the right. My mouth waters with the need to lick the delicate column of her throat.

She’s right about not being the same girl from years ago. That young, innocent girl wouldn’t have had a clue on seduction. The minx sitting in my truck right now doesn’t have an ounce of cluelessness in her body. The realization of her words hits me in the gut and steals my breath.

“Things would’ve been different if you’d only waited eighteen months.”

I look away from her, hating the patience I somehow managed even knowing she was only a few miles away.

“I could’ve given you all of me then.”

White-knuckling the steering wheel and trying to focus on anything but her is an exercise in futility. Her movement catches my eye as we slow at a red light.

“Jesus,” I mutter when her finger traces over her collarbone.

The tip of her pink tongue is trapped between her teeth, and her eyes never waver from mine.

“Want to go back to the park?” Raspy words filled with promise.

“I’m not making love to you in this truck again.” If I don’t get her home and put more than three feet of distance between us, my cock is going to revolt.

“Okay.” A provocative word only because it releases on a breathy moan. “You can just fuck me then.”

My eyes narrow, but they stay on the traffic in front of me. She’s purposefully trying to piss me off by separating the act from the emotion it includes.

I’m fuming by the time we pull up to the parking lot of her apartment complex.

“What are you doing?” she asks, eyes darting from me to the front of the building.

“Walking you up.” I close my door and walk around to get hers.

Regardless of her words and attempt at enticement in the truck, she’s a lady and waits for me to open her door for her. She’s also agitated that I didn’t just drop her off and refuses to take my hand so I can help her down.

I steady her when she bounces out of the seat and wobbles from the impact.

“You know what they say about men who drive big trucks.” She shoves off my aid and tries to walk past me.

Closing her door with more restraint than I actually feel, I urge her back against the door, crowding her and forcing her chest against mine. “I think you know I’m not compensating for shit, Princess.”

“Meh,” she mumbles.

I chuckle at her feigned apathy. “Sore for two days. You said so yourself.”

I want to nip at her throat as it swallows roughly, but I keep my eyes on hers, my face mere inches away. She’s not unaffected, but for some reason, she’s fighting me every step of the way. If she wants proof that I’m not the same man, that I’m not walking away from her, I have no problem proving it to her in any way she needs.

“I was sore because you didn’t bother to make me wet w-when...” She swallows again and the pink I love so very much creeps back into her embarrassed cheeks. “When we fucked.”

I press against her harder, the thickness of my cock pushing against her stomach. I’ve never hated clothes as much as I do right now.

“One,” I say nipping at her throat and smiling when she gasps, and her body shudders. “We made love. No matter where, no matter how hard I pound into that sweet pussy of yours, it’s still making love. I don’t care if I have you bent over my motorcycle on a deserted gravel road in broad daylight with you begging me to slip inside of your ass, it’s still making love."

Her lips part, breath quickening.

“Two.” I lick at her lips, but pull back as she opens her mouth further. Her small hands cling to my shirt as I lean in close to her ear. “You were wet at just the thought of me slipping inside of you. You creamed so much on my cock, your pussy juice coated my balls.”

My pulse is pounding in my ears. My mouth dry from taking ragged breaths, and I’m seconds away from embarrassing myself by coming in my jeans.

“Gross,” she hisses and pushes against my chest.

I take the reprieve she offers and move back a few steps.

“Seems you haven’t changed a bit.” She turns to walk in the direction of her apartment, but I don’t miss the wobble in her first couple of steps. She’s just as affected as I am.

I adjust myself in my jeans and follow behind her.

“I’m capable of getting myself inside,” she mumbles as she begins to climb the stairs.

“I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to follow your gorgeous ass, ever.”

She huffs as she presses her key into the lock on her door. The second it opens a terrified scream echoes around us. On instinct, I press Delilah’s back against the outside wall and reach into my boot.

“Stay here, baby.”

She nods, tears already welling in her gorgeous blue eyes.

“Ivy,” she whimpers.

“Oh, God,” Ivy screeches again.

I follow her voice down the small, narrow hall. I’m man enough to admit that I’m scared, my nerves causing a slight tremble in my hands.

Peeking around the corner to the small bathroom, I do my best to evaluate what’s going on in the split second I give myself to look.

What the?

I lower my gun and take a step into the bathroom.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Ivy turns and screams again, this time pointing her can of hairspray and toilet brush at me, her new perpetrator.

Her eyes widen and sweep over me before going back to the spider clinging to the wall of the shower.

“Ivy,” I nod and turn away.

She hisses, the hairspray and toilet brush clattering to the floor as she realizes that her robe was open. I can admit that Ivy has a great body, but I’m also so fucking thankful she still has on a bra and panties because this situation is already going to be awkward as fuck.

“Delilah,” I call and watch as her tear-stained face comes into view around the door frame. I hold out my hand. “It’s fine, baby. Come here.”

She walks toward me, but her steps falter when she sees the pistol down by my side. Clearing my throat, I bend and place the weapon back into the holster in my boot.

Ivy slides past me, the width of the door barely enough to keep us from touching, but she manages.

“Spider,” she tells her friend with a shiver that tells of a room full of black widows, not one little guy probably more terrified of her.

“Wuss,” Delilah mutters walking past her into the room.

She picks the daddy long legs spider up and carries it out the front door.

“You should’ve killed it!” Ivy shouts as Delilah walks back in and closes the front door.

“Get in the shower,” Delilah says and plops down on the couch.

I join her in the living room just as she’s wiping the tears from her eyes.

She laughs when I reach for her but pulls her head away before I can make contact.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one day,” she says with a laugh.

“Scared me, too,” I confess and sit down beside her.

“Why do you have a gun?”

She was apprehensive when she noticed the gun in my hand. I imagine being around her dad, and the other Cerberus guys have given her a ton of respect for weapons, but the way she eyed me is confusing.

“I have a permit.”

“You have a criminal record,” she counters as if I’m lying to her.

“Not anymore.” More confusion draws in her brow. “It was expunged.”

“Dad,” she mutters.

“He’s been very helpful in many ways.”

We sit in silence. I want to talk to her about what was said outside. I want to assure her that she doesn’t have to fight me at every turn, but she stares off, looking at nothing, and not saying a word.

For the first five minutes, I watch her, reorienting myself with every dip and delicate curve of her face. After that, I take in her apartment, waiting for her to speak. She doesn’t tell me to leave, so I see that as progress and mentally put a tick in the win column for myself.

“Well, that was exciting,” Ivy says breaking into the quietness of the room.

Ivy smiles at me when I look up at her. Her hair is still wet, but thankfully she’s now fully dressed.

“I hope you’re hungry, Lawson. I ordered pizza for lunch.”

“He’s not staying,” Delilah huffs.

“I’m starved,” I tell her friend and sink deeper on the sofa.