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Our legs brushed, and I began to squirm until he pulled his hand out of mine and gripped my upper thigh firmly. Then he began to rub and squeeze, up and down, and it was the most delicious kind of torture. My dick was so hard there was no way I was going to hide the bulge in my jeans when I got out of this truck.
Not that I cared if Lennie saw. Since he was staying in my house, and Dawson was with me, he would probably see—and hear—a hell of a lot more.
It didn’t matter.
I just needed to be alone with Dawson as soon as possible.
When we pulled up to my driveway, I was ready to bolt to the front door, but Dawson gripped my hand again.
“No. Lennie has to check the house first.”
Shit. I forgot.
“Sorry, lost my head for a second,” I whispered in Dawson’s ear. “I’m too fucking excited to be alone with you again.”
As soon as Lennie stepped out of the truck and the door slammed shut, Dawson manhandled me. My back hit the leather seat, and I was held down by the only fucking man I wanted.
“Your reaction is the biggest goddamn turn-on,” Dawson moaned before he took my mouth in a fierce kiss, ravaging my lips and sucking on my tongue like a man starved.
I kissed him back, every taste and touch of our lips more desperate than the last.
Until a knock on the door startled us.
Dawson lifted his head and let out a string of curses, then slowly sat back up, taking me with him.
After a few deep breaths, Dawson opened the door and stepped out first. Then he held his hand out to me, his eyes imploring mine. Instead of ignoring the gesture like I had in the past when we were bodyguard and client, I readily took his hand.
And this time, I didn’t let go.
Not even when my boots hit the gravel.
Not that I felt the ground below me, because I swear to God I was floating on air.
Was this what Brodie was going on about when it came to Van? And why he couldn’t keep his hands off his husband? This whole falling-in-love thing was more powerful than I’d anticipated. The way Dawson held me, the way he kissed, every single touch was protective and possessive, and I was there for it.
I was standing in Dawson’s spotlight, soaking up his desire. He made my knees weak and sparked a passion I’d never believed I was capable of.
I thought I knew everything about my needs and wants, my sexual desires. Lust was simple, easy, and fun.
This, what was happening with me and Dawson, was anything but.
And fuck, I still had a difficult time wrapping my head around the changes that were happening, not just to me, to him, but to us.
We were ready to tear into each other only a few weeks ago. Now, all we wanted to do was tear our clothes off.
Lennie walked ahead as usual, ignoring or not caring that Dawson and I were still holding hands.
I didn’t give a fuck. If Lennie didn’t like it, that was his problem.
Then I imagined what it would be like if Dawson and I were a public couple. What would have made me run far and fast a month ago now filled me with a sense of longing and a wish for things to come.
We entered the front foyer, and without saying a word, Dawson dragged me down the hallway to my bedroom.
“I’d give you the full tour, but you’ve already been here,” I teased.
He stopped halfway to my room and suddenly turned.
“I shouldn’t have just assumed?—”
