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My shoulders plummet. I open my mouth to apologize, but as the words of regret form on my tongue, all the seriousness vanishes from his face. In its place is the biggest smile. His entire frame shakes. Before I comprehend what is happening, laughter rips from his lips.
“Sorry.” More laughter. “It’s really not that funny.” He clutches his stomach with one hand and presses a closed fist to his lips with the other. “Guess it’s funnier in my head.”
“What?” I ask, irritated that he continues to laugh when I thought I had offended him.
“I was going to give some phony sad story, but you’re too fucking adorable.”
“Huh?”
“Lawrence. Law is short for Lawrence.”
“What a sophisticated name.”
He steps closer, warming my skin with his. “And what’s your name?”
I swallow and trace the sharp line of his jaw with my eyes. Lick my lips and envision the scruff between my legs, chafing my thighs.
“Sky. Skylar,” I stammer.
“Well, Sky, Skylar, what do you say we get you home and off your feet?”
I shake my head and nod simultaneously. No doubt I look like a fool, with my head jittering in every direction. But Law doesn’t seem to care one bit. Matter of fact, he appears rather amused by my flustered state.
Can’t help it, though. The man has charisma unlike any I have seen before. Maybe it’s his maturity. Perhaps his confidence. Either way, I want everything he has to offer.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Know what else sounds good? Going to his place and not mine. Time to work some magic of my own.
Chapter Two
LAWRENCE
“Did you drive?”
Skylar shakes her head. “We don’t get behind the wheel on pub nights.”
Pub nights.
The two words roll off her tongue with ease. How often do pub nights happen? Better yet, how often does she leave the pub with random men?
Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Law.
“Good.” I steer us toward my car, one arm around her waist, her hand hooked on my shoulder. Her shoes dangle from the other hand. “Sure you’re okay with me driving you home?”
Her grip on me tightens as she clamps down on her lips and scrunches her eyes. A muffled hiss spills from her lips. She must have stepped wrong. Put too much weight on her ankle. Pain evident in the pinch of her brow and shift in her weight.
It’s tempting to stop us. To whisk her up in my arms and carry her to the car. Frail as Skylar is with a sprained ankle, she gives off independent woman vibes. A woman of quiet strength.
“Unless you want to drive me to your home.” The pain on her face seconds ago is replaced with mischief.
Would I like Skylar in my house, my space, my bed? Damn straight. Anyone who found her attractive would. But I don’t want to be another random guy to her.
We reach the car and I grip the door handle to unlock it. I help lower her into the seat, shut the door, then jog to the driver’s side. I press the ignition, crank the air conditioning, then twist in my seat.
“Tempting, but it’s probably best to be in your own space with that injury.”
Her bottom lip pushes out in the cutest fucking pout. A pout with a direct connection to my groin. I bite the inside of my cheek and stifle the groan in my throat.
