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He frames my face with his hands and I exhale my held breath. “I’m fine, little phoenix.” His lips press mine in a gentle kiss. “The foyer window, on the other hand, is not.”
I open my mouth, prepared to ask a grocery list of questions, but he captures my lips once more. This kiss is not gentle or sweet. Lawrence packs this kiss with a one-two-three punch. Steals the breath from my lungs. Snakes his arms around my frame and seizes my ass in his hands. A moan spills from my lips and he swallows it whole. My fingers fist his shirt and pull the hem from his trousers. Then my nails skate up his back.
Which is the exact moment he pulls away.
He rests his forehead on mine, breath heavy and desperate. Eyes pinched tight. He grips my hips, his fingers digging at the flesh beneath my clothes.
“Shoes,” he mutters, breath hot on my lips. “Put on shoes. There’s glass everywhere.”
I lift a hand and comb my fingers through his hair. Relish his weight as he leans into my touch. “What happened?”
“Someone threw a hammer at the foyer window.” Holy. Shit. “Looks like there’s something attached. The police are on the way.”
This has Kelli Langston written all over it. Conniving. Deceitful. Petty.
Maybe it is the same hammer that drove a nail in my tire.
Yes, Law and I did something heinous by staging the kitchen sex for her to walk in on. In her eyes, Lawrence committed the ultimate relationship crime. Cheating. Had anyone else found out prior to her sharing the video, the town wouldn’t just be whispering about me and Law. She and the Langston family would be tarnished for generations to come.
So, this must be her revenge. Posting vulnerable videos online. Spreading rumors to paint herself as the brokenhearted woman dragged through the mud and abandoned on the roadside. Kelli will never tell the story of Lawrence breaking up with her countless times prior to that night. A story like that won’t garner the level of sympathy her ego needs. And surely, no one breaks up with Kelli Langston—at least, that is probably how she and half the town see it.
Flashes of red and blue light the lower staircase. Lawrence kisses me briefly on the lips, then tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear as he takes a step down.
“Put shoes on. Be careful when you come down.” A heavy sigh leaves his lips. “It’s going to be a long night.”
* * *
Tangerine and indigo paint the altocumulus clouds above the bay. A soft daffodil yellow beneath the pillowy puffs. As if the sky couldn’t decide what to do this morning. Staring at the skyline, I decide it is broken. But not as broken as I am right now.
After hours of questions, crime scene photos, and a temporary fix to the window, my bones ache. My muscles are weary. The earth could open up and swallow me whole right now, and I wouldn’t care. I am just… tired. Exhausted. Twenty-four-hours-of-straight-sleep-wouldn’t-help tired.
But I refuse to admit defeat. Refuse to surrender to someone who works for nothing and gets everything.
Well, guess what, bitch? You won’t win this one.
Warm arms wrap around my middle, tug me close, imprison me physically and emotionally. My body sags against his frame. Let’s go and allows him to hold me upright. “There you are,” he whispers at the shell of my ear, breath warm on my skin. His arms cradle me tighter. “Got worried when I couldn’t find you.”
Lawrence kisses beneath my ear, his lips painting desire down the side of my neck. He stops where my neck and shoulder meet. Pays more attention with tongue and teeth before he climbs back up, turns my head, and captures my lips with his.
I get lost in the kiss. In his hands roaming my body. In the taste of him on my tongue. When his hand dips between my waistband and skin, I break the kiss. Not because I don’t want this to go further. But because we need to talk.
Lawrence and I aren’t just sex. Okay, maybe ninety-five percent sex. As they say, don’t mess with a good thing.
Regardless, we need to talk about what happened tonight. Last night. This morning. Whatever the hell it was. We need to talk about Kelli and how to proceed. And without breaking confidentiality, we need to talk about his work.
“I’m okay, Law.” I lay a peck on his cheek. “If we didn’t have such pressing matters to discuss, I’d let you take me here, out in the open.” I twist in his arms and peek up at him. “But we really should talk.”
He deflates faster than my overly duct-taped camping air mattress. His arms untangle from my body; the fingers of one hand finding mine. “Come here.”
Guiding us to the lounger on the patio, he straddles the seat, sits, then pulls me between his legs. Ten full breaths pass, our eyes fixed on the brightening sky before he locates his voice.
“Cops weren’t able to lift prints from the hammer, note or pictures. Luckily, I have cameras installed on the house.” There are cameras on the house? Even this information is news to me. He rubs his palms up and down my biceps. “I had them installed when I bought the house, but have never told anyone. They’re small—discreet. But this was my first house, and I wanted to protect what’s mine.”
“Makes sense,” I say, relaxing under his touch.
“Didn’t intentionally not tell you. Just habit. Hell, I’ve never had a reason to review them, so I forget they’re installed.”
Shifting, I rest my head on the front of his shoulder and rotate my head slightly. Take in his stubbled jawline, thicker than usual. Tempting. But I shut down my thirsty brain.
