Lawson: Cerberus 2.0 Book 1

by Marie James

  “You’re as transparent as air,” I mutter to Ivy.

  “You can sit on my lap,” Lawson whispers when I give in and claim the end of the couch.

  My heart thumps behind my rib cage at his offer, one I’d love to take him up on, but keeping my distance is more important.

  “Don’t you have work?” I hand each one of them a napkin and pick my paper plate up off of the coffee table.

  “Joel can handle things for the afternoon.” He looks at me with seductive promise in his eyes. “I’m yours for the rest of the day.”

  I roll my eyes but grin behind my slice of pizza as I raise it to my mouth.

  “If you had a little better work ethic, my car would be done already.”

  “I’m not wasting time or money fixing that heap of junk, Delilah.” My eyes widen.

  “What the hell have you been doing for the last week and a half?”

  He shrugs as if it’s no big deal that I’ve been in a rental car. I shouldn’t complain because the car I’ve had is ten times better than the Corolla, but it’s the principle.

  “Fixing bikes. Working on cars that are worth fixing.”

  “Unbelievable,” I hiss.

  “Who’s up for a movie?” Ivy interrupts, feeling the tension that’s growing by the second in the room.

  “I’ve got nowhere to be.” The smug smile on Lawson’s face makes me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

  After wiping his mouth with his napkin, he stands and takes both of our plates to the trash and even slides the uneaten pizza into the fridge before excusing himself to the bathroom.

  “You need to quit whatever it is you think you’re doing,” I tell Ivy with a pointed look. “It’s not helping.”

  She just smiles at me. “I’m a virgin, but the sexual tension bouncing between you two is making me tingly.”

  “Stop,” I hiss when I hear the toilet flush. “Sex isn’t everything.”

  “Sex wasn’t everything,” she corrects. “That man loves you, and you’d be a fool to let him go.”

  She snaps her head back in the direction of the TV and scans through the channels as Lawson opens the bathroom door and sits even closer to me on the sofa.

  “Game of Thrones marathon?” Ivy asks, already knowing how hot I get for Jon Snow. I refuse to acknowledge his dark hair and blue eyes because it means confessing my attraction to him over the years has more to do with him resembling Lawson than Kit Harrington.

  “Love this show,” Lawson says scooting even closer to me.

  His warmth, his scent wash over me. God, this man will be my undoing.

  “Come here, baby.” His breath heats my neck, and my body responds with goosebumps. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  Like the bipolar sadist I am, I allow him to wrap his arms around my back as I snuggle into his chest. I sigh my contentment, and it seems to calm him.

  But true to Lawson form he ruins the moment of surrender with his damn mouth. “Try not to think about my cock while we watch Khal Drogo take command of his queen.”

  I try to pull away, slapping him the only thing I can concentrate on.

  “Wrong,” I whisper when I realize exactly which scene we’re watching. “Daenerys owns his cock.”

  Lawson shifts uncomfortably as we both watch the scene playing out on the TV screen in front of us. It looks very similar to the way I straddled him in the truck and rode him until we both came.

  He groans and shifts again when my fingers curl against his thigh.

  “You own my cock,” he pants, uncaring that my best friend is a few feet away.

  I dart my eyes in her direction, but by the way she’s nibbling on her thumb, I don’t think she heard him.

  “Hush,” I tell him.

  His chest rumbles against the side of my face, but he doesn’t argue. Before long even the battles playing out on the TV can’t keep me awake. The hand roaming from the top of my head and down my back in slow, rhythmic strokes is my downfall.

  It isn’t until I feel my body being lifted from the couch that I realize I fell asleep.

  I cling to his shirt when he pulls away after placing me on the bed and covering me up. I’m begging without words as I look into his eyes. Normally, I would feel too prideful, but in the quiet of the room, with nothing but care and concern in his eyes, I feel a sense of freedom I’ve never felt before.

  “Princess,” he whispers against my cheek.

  He could crawl in behind me, spread my legs, and sink deep inside and I wouldn’t object. By the tension pulling at the corners of his eyes, I know he’s well aware of that fact.

  His hand cups my cheek just before his lips sweep over mine.

  “I don’t hate you,” I tell him. “But my heart can’t trust you yet.”

  He smiles against my lips, a reaction I wasn’t expecting. I wait, looking into the blue depths of his soul, once again preparing myself for some remark that’s only going to serve to burn another bridge so precariously built between us.

  “That’s the most honest thing you’ve said since we reconnected.” He kisses me again. Soft, sweet, with love, not the fiery passion that seems to overflow between us. “Take all the time you need, baby. I’m not going anywhere.

  ***

  I smile into my pillow, the scent of his skin all over mine from our snuggling on the couch. What I don’t have is the warmth of his skin against my back any longer.

  Maybe his promise of not going anywhere was meant in a not-quite-so literal sense, but that doesn’t ease my anger very much.

  I stagger to the coffee pot, only to find Ivy already at the small kitchen table.

  “Sleep well?”

  The playfulness of her voice tells me she suspects more happened last night with Lawson than actually occurred.

  “Yes,” I answer honestly. I didn’t realize until he climbed behind me, insisting on staying on top of the covers even after I’d tried to persuade him differently, just how exhausted I’ve been. I haven’t slept well since he showed up in the parking lot when my car broke down, but last night was different. I’m wide awake, though annoyed he’s not here, and ready to take on the day.

  “What’s that?” I snap out of it and look over at her.

  “What’s what?”

  I smile behind my coffee cup.

  “That silly grin on your face.” She smiles too. “Did you catch feelings for Lawson?”

  “Catch feelings?” I mull over her words while my mind races for an excuse. “I didn’t catch anything.”

  “True,” she says with a quick tilt of her head. “I guess since they were always there, you can’t really catch them again.”

  “That’s not what’s happening.”

  “Tell that to Lawson. He’s head over heels for you.” She points to a set of keys on the counter. “He left his truck. Said he had to get to work.”

  “He needs to stop doing shit like that.” I hate the words the second they’re out of my mouth. It’s clear I’m not one hundred percent over my anger. I lock down the vulnerability I showed last night in the soft light of the moon.

  “Don’t do this to yourself.” I turn my back to her, adding unnecessary sugar to my already sweet coffee. “You going to punish him for words he said so long ago?”

  “He spoke to me like I was some filthy whore,” I rebut.

  “He said some pretty dirty things to you on the couch last night while watching TV.”

  “Exactly. See he’ll never change.”

  She shakes her head in disbelief. “Did you squeeze your thighs together like you did last night when he said that stuff to you two years ago?”

  I hiss, jolted by her words enough that I spill my coffee down the front of my shirt. I stare in disbelief, and if I’m being honest a little proud of Ivy as she leaves me reeling in the kitchen.

  I’ve thought, probably more often than I should’ve, about that night in my room with Lawson. My mind was overwhelmed then, wondering if Samson was going to tell Dad and Pop about things h
e’d only suspected. I worried over whether they would kick him and Drew out. I know deep in my heart that had Lawson not done something to push me away that I would’ve done the exact same thing to him.

  I can be indignant all damn day, but the outcome would’ve been the same, only he would hate me instead of me pretending to hate him.

  Pretending.

  It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to admit the truth.

  I’ve never hated Lawson. If anything, seeing him again, feeling his lips on mine, takes me right back to where we were when I was just an immature, inexperienced girl who wanted nothing more than the love of a boy she shouldn’t have wanted in the first place.

  “Fuck,” I grumble as I place my half-consumed coffee in the sink and make my way to the bathroom.

  I turn the radio up almost loud enough to drown out the thoughts and images of Lawson that bombard me as I strip out of my clothes.

  While I scrub his scent from my body and wash my hair, I steel my spine once more. Even with my feelings, there are a million reasons why Lawson and I shouldn’t be together. The only problem is as I rinse the suds from my hair, I can’t think of a single one.

  Chapter 36

  Lawson

  “You sound frustrated.”

  I huff into my phone, ready to knock the head off of the Uber driver if he so much as looks over his shoulder while I’m in the back seat of his car thinking of ways to kill my dad.

  “Explain it to me one more time,” I hiss into the phone.

  “Blade sent a few guys to Purgatory Chasm. Ravens Ruin has found a shop in Worcester that will do their bidding.”

  “And Cerberus is just going to let that happen?”

  “Calm down, Rambo.” His chuckle is like nails on a chalkboard right now. “They’re under surveillance, and you don’t need to worry about it. You didn’t want the club.”

  “And you won’t talk about it. I wasn’t spending four years in the Corps to join.” We’ve been through this a hundred times. The time in the service is a requirement for official acceptance in Cerberus MC, one I wasn’t willing to commit to.

  “I can’t talk about it,” he clarifies. “Why the attitude?”

  I take deep breaths before I continue. “You said you found out two days ago.”

  “Correct.” His voice lowers, calming and sedate. “Why are you upset?”

  “Are you sure she’s safe?”

  “She was never in danger, Law. We were just keeping it that way.”

  “I spent a week away from her.” I scrub my hand over my face doing my best to keep from telling the driver to take me back to her.

  “I haven’t seen her since May,” Jaxon informs me. “So I know what it’s like to miss her.”

  “Exactly,” I agree too soon.

  “You didn’t miss her last night.” There’s mirth in his voice, but only having known him for two years, I still worry about when the conversation will change from support and morph into disgust.

  “I swear nothing happened.”

  He laughs. The chuckles from farther away tell me I’m on speaker phone and Rob is nearby.

  “You’re both grown,” he clarifies.

  “I don’t feel very grown with you tracking our phones,” I murmur.

  “When you have children, you’ll understand.”

  I nod even though he can’t see me. The thought of having kids doesn’t scare me one damn bit because I know Delilah will be an incredible mother.

  “In years,” Dad says in a long breath. “When you have children years down the road. Years, right Law?”

  I laugh.

  “Law.” Rob’s voice this time. “His head’s about to explode.”

  “Years,” I concede as a smile spreads on my face. “We’ll still be having children years from now.”

  I hear him yelling when I hang up on them. That’s what he gets for not telling me forty–eight hours ago that Ravens Ruin MC wasn’t a threat to her. I may have spent time with her yesterday, but we could’ve already had another day of connection under our belts. I need every second to build what Delilah is trying to reject.

  ***

  “Put your shirt on.”

  I smile as the voice of my angel echoes through the shop. I was hoping she would stop by today, but as time dragged on, I let doubt creep in.

  I turn in her direction, using the shop towel to swipe at the sweat running down my abs.

  “You seem to be enjoying the view.”

  Her lips smack together as if she’s getting ready to say something, but no sound comes out. Her eyes don’t pull from my stomach either. If it’s a weapon in my arsenal, I’ll use it. Leaning back against the truck I was just bent over, I kick my legs out, crossed at the ankles. The position allows me to contract my stomach for optimal viewing.

  “You look…”

  “You’re pretty fucking spectacular yourself.” She’s wearing the same lacy shorts she had on the day her car broke down, but her top is different. This one slides off of her shoulder, revealing a thin strap and hinting at the lace covering her perfect breasts.

  Her eyes snap to mine. “Grungy and dirty. That’s what I was going to say.”

  I hold my tongue as I watch her fight the urge to take another look.

  “Where’s my car?”

  “Round back. Waiting for a tow to the junkyard.”

  I expect a fight, an argument at a minimum, so when her breath shudders, it catches me by surprise.

  “Was it really that bad?”

  “Sorry, Princess.”

  “I’ve had that car since I learned to drive.”

  I never thought I’d see her so emotional over a damn car, especially since I know she knows how much I care about her and she’s all too eager to push me away.

  “You’ve only been driving what three? Four years tops? You’ll get another one.”

  “Is it that easy for you to just replace things that were once important to you when you get tired of them? When they’re no longer pristine and perfect?”

  I recoil at her words. “It’s just an old car, Delilah.”

  She turns her back to me and mutters. I stop cold.

  “What did you just say?”

  She shakes her head and walks out of the front of the garage.

  “What did you say?” I repeat.

  She spins, wiping at fresh tears on her cheeks. “I said I loved that car.”

  I shake my head. “It sounded a lot like ‘I fell in love in that car.’”

  She shrugs, and I clench my fists so tight my knuckles pop. “His name was Danny. We spent a couple weeks together in the summer.”

  I growl at her but keep my distance. It’s the only thing keeping me from shaking some damn sense into her.

  A mischievous glint hits her blue eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching. I can already tell, true to Delilah form that she’s going to mask her emotions with some damn joke as a distraction. “We laughed and sang together. Frolicked in the surf of the ocean.”

  I tilt my head, confused as fuck. “What?”

  She nods towards the shop. “He loved cars, too. Seems I have a type.”

  Frolicked in the surf? Loved cars?

  “Wait.” I take a step toward her. “Did you just describe fucking Grease to me?”

  She rolls her teeth to stop her laugh, but it’s not enough as it bubbles up her throat. God, I love her smile.

  “You realize every one of those songs is filled with tons of sexual innuendo. If you pay attention, you’d realize they have filthier mouths than I could ever dream of.”

  Her eyes dart to my mouth and down my glistening chest.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I make sure my stomach flexes in all the right places when I reach to get it. I look down at the text and frown.

  “What’s wrong?” I love the concern in her voice.

  “An emergency,” I lie. Well, not a total lie, but my neighbor may try to kill me in my sleep if I don’t get home quickly. I pull my t-shirt over my
head and sweep my hand toward my truck. She offers me the keys. “Your pussy wagon, my lady.”

  She snorts but walks in that direction. “Travolta drove a Ford.”

  “I’ll trade the Chevy in tomorrow, baby. Hurry. I have to get home.”

  She hustles inside, still letting me open and close her door for her.

  “You going to tell me what’s going on?” she asks as we make our way around the block toward my house.

  I smile at her but shake my head. “You’ll see.”

  We drive, with the radio playing softly. She hums along to the lyrics of a song I’ve never heard before but has somehow managed to become my favorite.

  “Why did you leave so early this morning?” I grin even wider at the insecurity in her voice which makes me an asshole.

  “Miss me, Princess?”

  “No,” she insists, but I see the smile on her face before she turns it from view.

  “I had to make sure Joel didn’t burn my shop down yesterday. Had a few things to check off my list before the weekend, and then I planned to come right back to you.”

  “I don’t want you—” She stops right before shutting me down once again. “Is this your house?”

  I frown because I know she’s just putting off the inevitable.

  “It is.” I turn the truck off and point. “And that is my very pissed off neighbor.”

  I open her door for her, and it surprises me when she places her hand in mine to climb down and doesn’t pull it free when we start to walk across the yard.

  I whistle and wait for the clinking of Raider’s dog tags. The sound never comes, but a bark can be heard from inside the house.

  “Mrs. Houston?”

  She hitches her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m calling the Home Owner’s Association if that satanic dog isn’t locked up immediately.”

  Delilah stiffens beside me.

  I smile when the dark headed woman appears behind Mrs. Houston.

  “Hey, Lawson,” Cynthia says as she wraps her arms around her grandmother’s shoulders. “Raider’s been agitated more than usual. I normally wouldn’t bother you while you’re at work.”

  “I’ll take care of him. Thanks for letting me know.”