Laws of Attraction

by RC Boldt

  “No.” Her answer was spoken softly. “They didn’t scare the shit out of me.”

  “Well, I’m sure the experience gave you great insight as to why I’m the way I am,” he joked. Then, in a more serious tone, he added, “And they absolutely went ga-ga over you.”

  When there was a lengthy pause and she still didn’t respond, he glanced her way to see her watching him with a thoughtful expression, corners of her lips curved upward slightly.

  “I had fun tonight, Laws. Thank you.”

  Eyes back on the road ahead of him, he reached out his palm, waiting for her to lay her own in his. Once she did so, he linked their fingers and brought their hands up to press a kiss to hers.

  “It was my pleasure, Lee.” His lips quirked. “Although, if you really want to thank me …” He trailed off suggestively.

  He could practically hear her rolling her eyes at him. “Let me guess. I can thank you by putting out?”

  Letting out a melodramatic gasp, he exclaimed, “Why, Lee! I’m not that kind of guy!”

  She snorted. “Riiight.”

  “But if you insisted on taking advantage of me, I only ask that you promise you’ll respect me in the morn—”

  “Was that talk about being dominant true?” she interrupted him suddenly.

  Caught off guard, his lips rolled inward as he chose his words. “And you’re asking because?”

  “Just curious.”

  Aaaah, was she now?

  His voice was deeper, huskier when he replied, “So you want to know if I’m interested in having you on my bed, at my mercy, with your wrists bound while I put my mouth anywhere I want on your body?”

  She tried to mask her sharp inhalation but he’d caught it. Felt the slight tremor in the hand he still held.

  She was intrigued and, quite possibly, turned on. Pushing further, he continued, “I’d have you spread out like a delicious feast, my mouth, tongue, and hands having their way with you.”

  Yep, there was no denying Lee’s breathing had quickened. Shit, he’d begun to get himself a little out of control, shifting in his seat to ease the straining material of his khaki pants over his now hardening cock.

  “Laws?”

  “Yes, gorgeous?”

  “Are you taking me home with you?”

  It took him a moment to realize what she was asking since most of the blood had drained from his brain and headed south. When it finally dawned on him, he realized that her own thumb had begun to stroke his hand, their fingers still linked. That slight caress was not insignificant for someone like Lee. Not at all. This was a big step. Not only for her but for both of them.

  Yet, something was holding him back. His cock was yelling at him to close the deal, but his mind and heart? Yeah, they were like, The contractual stipulations have not been satisfied yet, Briggs.

  Contractual stipulations? Those had most definitely not been met as of yet.

  “Guess that’s a no,” she muttered, mistaking his lack of immediate answer.

  “Actually,” he glanced over at her, flashing a cocky wink, “I was just thinking. Did you pack an overnight bag, planning this?” He looked aghast. “Why, Lee, did you plan on taking advantage of little ol’ me?”

  “You know I didn’t bring an overnight bag, Laws,” she told him, giving him a look.

  “Ah. So this is a spur of the moment thing, then? You just got a wild hair and thought, ‘Hey, maybe I’ll go home with Lawson and get lucky?’” He phrased it as a joking question but there was a definite undertone in it.

  He wanted his question answered.

  “Laws.” The way she spoke his name in that moment was far different than ever before. Her tone was tender. And when she lifted their joined hands, bringing them to her lips to press a kiss to his own hand, he turned to mush.

  Lawson Briggs officially turned to fucking mush. We’re talking the equivalent of saturated sand. You know, when you get in the surf at the shoreline, reach down and grab a handful of sand, and it just seeps through your fingers?

  Mush.

  Lee gave him a kiss on his hand, but it wasn’t just a kiss to his hand. No way. This kiss signified far more. So much more.

  Lee was greenlighting him, yes, but she also telling him something else. Something far more valuable than merely that she wanted to get naked and do naughty things with him. And, while that was all super delicious and made him harder than ever before, there was more.

  In that tiny kiss to his hand, she had told him—without words—that her heart had officially joined in. It had finally emerged from down in the deep recesses where it had been locked up.

  And that, ladies and gentleman, signified that Lawson Briggs was officially a candidate.

  A candidate for what? Well, that was an easy answer.

  A candidate to win Lee’s heart, of course.

  * * *

  Holy shit. Had she just done that? Had she actually pressed a kiss to his hand?

  Yeah. She had.

  Yet, just when she fully expected the dry-heaving to begin, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach to induce the churning at her gesture—a sweet, completely out of character gesture, mind you—nothing happened.

  Sure, there was a feeling in her stomach but it was more like … butterflies?

  Shit. That sounded so freaking girly. Clearly, hanging out with the other women was rubbing off on her.

  But the truth was, she felt butterflies, felt the excitement, the anticipation of what was to come. Because that night, sitting around the dinner table with Lawson’s parents and crazy grandmother, it had hit her.

  That—along with the dinner nights with the others at Momma K.’s house—was what families were really like. How they were supposed to be. They were imperfect and goofy and, sure, they got on each other’s nerves but there was still an unconditional love present throughout. They truly cared about one another. Just as Lawson had said, they were invested in each other’s lives.

  So unlike her own upbringing.

  When she had watched each member of the Briggs family interact—once Lawson had good-naturedly ‘forced’ Gran from her seat so that he could sit beside her, lying his arm along the back of her chair as if it were the most casual, natural thing to do—she had seen it. Had seen a flash of possibility. Of her sitting there for dinners at holidays, of her helping his mother in the kitchen when she forgot to plug in whatever appliance. Of sitting next to Lawson at that table, both of them snickering together at whatever inappropriate story his Gran was telling them.

  And, it was then she realized that this tall, handsome blond man with a goatee, which he’d grown after shaving off his beard for her—the man who’d grown the goatee because she’d mentioned that she thought he’d look good with one; the man who’d brought a lightheartedness to her since he’d inserted himself within her life—had also done something she’d thought impossible.

  He had somehow found a way past her defenses and had officially begun to breach her heart. The one she’d sworn had shriveled down to nothing from the pain of past betrayals.

  The same heart that had somehow begun to show signs of life once again.

  All because of Lawson Briggs.

  C

  HAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Langley

  Fourth Deployment

  Kandahar, Afghanistan

  “We’ve got a VB-IED, possible simultaneous explosions across Kandahar City,” their detachment commander, Brad, told them.

  Shit. That was never good. Vehicle-born IED’s were messy and devastating.

  We were in the TOC—Tactical Operations Command—watching the real-time video feed. Kandahar City was extremely dense and we were standing with Joey, our lead pilot, trying to figure out where he could land us.

  “What do you think?” Brad asked.

  Joey shook his head. “I can’t land the helo there, man. I can hoist them there, but I can’t land.”

  Brad pursed his lips in thought. “Can we find someplace big enough to land? There’
s got to be somewhere …”

  “What about the governor’s palace?” one of the TOC guys asked.

  Brad looked over at Joey. “Landing area is completely exposed but it’s large enough if you land on the lawn.”

  “Let’s do it,” Joey answered immediately.

  After we’d boarded the helicopter, in flight merely a mile away from the Palace, we all heard the message come over our comms.

  “Be advised of small arms fire reports in the area.”

  “Shooting flares,” Joey declared. We often shot flares to help defend against the threat of heat-seeking missiles being fired upon us.

  Upon landing, we rushed to get our patients on board, to prep them in-flight for surgery at the nearby hospital. As we began lifting off the ground, I vaguely registered an odd sound, but it was so noisy inside the helicopter and I was focused on getting my patient’s IV tubing unkinked. It wasn’t until I heard Joey call out, “Taking fire from the Northwest!” that I realized what was happening.

  Shit.

  “Can we go higher?” he asked us. If he flew higher, it would decrease the amount of oxygen for our patients, and if they were in extremely critical condition, it could mean life or death for them. Luckily, my patient was only classified as ‘serious’ condition.

  “Roger that,” I answered after exchanging a look with Lucas, who nodded his agreement.

  Joey took us higher and our trail helicopter followed suit, managing to get us to the hospital and our patients into care with physicians.

  Once we returned to base, upon full required inspection of our helo, it turned out that the bullet holes had been merely an inch away from penetrating the gas tank.

  We’d dodged meeting our maker yet again.

  * * *

  Exiting the SUV, he walked around to Lee’s door to help her out. He opened the passenger door and reached out a hand, and when she placed hers within it, he felt it then. That same feeling of rightness. Like this was how it could be … always.

  And, damn, if that wasn’t the most tempting prospect. But … baby steps. Because, well, this was Lee and he had to tread lightly for fear of spooking her.

  After pressing the key fob to lock the vehicle, they walked hand in hand up the steps leading to the stilted beach home. Unlocking the door, about to turn the handle to enter, he felt a slight tug on the hand holding hers. He glanced over, meeting her eyes, and noticed what he thought was uncertainty in them.

  “Lee?” he asked quietly. He didn’t want her to feel obligated. He wanted her there, wanted to take the next step only if she was completely on board. When her lips curved into a slow smile, he felt a whoosh of breath come out in relief.

  “Hurry up,” she said, rising up to press a quick kiss to his lips. Well, she may have intended it to be a quick kiss, but he couldn’t resist sliding a hand to the back of her head, pulling her entire body closer to his. His fingers tightened on the strands of hair in his grasp, tipping her head to the side to deepen the kiss, while his other arm slid around her waist to dip down, his hand caressing her ass before he pressed her closer to him. When she shivered—releasing a soft sigh upon feeling his prodding hardness—and arched against him, it lit something deep within him.

  Yet, even amidst the temptation that encompassed his Lee, he couldn’t very well take her against his front door at nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday night.

  If you’re discreet … an inner voice taunted him.

  Yeah, that inner voice was also known as his inner slut. Clearly. Because there was no way in hell he was about to sex up Lee against his front door and allow anyone else a glimpse of the gorgeous smorgasbord he knew was hidden beneath her clothing.

  Hell, no.

  Breaking the kiss with a groan, he whispered against her now glossy lips, “We’ve got to take this inside.” When he leaned in to punctuate that with a quick kiss, he wasn’t prepared for her to slide a hand around, cupping the back of his head, then brush her lips against his before lightly tugging his bottom lip between her teeth.

  Oh, fuck. There was no way he could manage to restrain himself if she was going to play like that.

  “Lee.” He cleared his throat, backing away from her. “In the house. Now.”

  Something lit up in her eyes at his command. Huh. Well, maybe his Lee had a tiny bit of a submissive deep within her. Interesting.

  “Yes, sir.” Her voice was husky as she turned, opening the door to the house, and entered with him hot on her heels.

  Once the door was closed and locked behind them, he toed off his flip flops onto the mat by the door as she did the same. Hanging his keys on the wall, he turned to face her in the silence of the house.

  Attempting some semblance of calmness so as not to spook her—because, shit, he was so turned on, fiery need for her ran through his veins—he tried to control himself from shoving her up against the wall, to resist giving her orders, to—

  “Do it.” Lee’s words, spoken so softly yet seeming so loud in the silence surrounding them, jolted him from his inner turmoil.

  “I’m sorry?” he asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

  She stepped toward him. “Do it.” Her gaze was watchful. “Whatever it is you’re thinking.” Closing the gap between them so that they were standing in the entryway of the home with barely inches between them, she traced her index finger down along the center of his chest. When it traced lower, over his abs, he felt his muscles contract, tightening as her finger continued its track over where he was straining against his zipper.

  He swallowed hard when her hand cupped him, and was unable to resist pushing against her, his nostrils flaring slightly as arousal strummed through him. Trying to maintain some vestige of control, he spoke through nearly gritted teeth, “I don’t want to scare you. To push you too much.”

  Eyes filled with heat, she reached up to draw his head closer, down to hers, and whispered, her hot, minty breath washing against his lips, “Do it.”

  That was it. That was all it took. Her words—her urging—sent him into motion.

  Hands moving to her hips, he walked her back against the wall, mouth latching onto hers in a feverish kiss, lifting her up. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and, fuuuuuck, he was nestled between her legs, right at her core.

  Unable to resist rocking against her, he swore his cock would have the imprint of his zipper, it was so hard, aching to be set free. Aching for her. When she pushed against his prodding hardness, he felt her shudder at the contact. Releasing a moan into his mouth, her legs tightened around him as he moved against her, and he swore right then and there that the odds of him coming in his pants before they got any further was far more likely than he’d prefer.

  Which was unacceptable.

  Down boy, down boy, he chanted silently. Because there was no way in hell he wanted this to end with Lee aroused, yet unsatisfied while he reacted like a teenage boy who’d just hit puberty and found his own Mrs. Robinson.

  No way. Uh-uh. Not on his watch.

  Breaking the kiss, his eyes met hers.

  “Why are you stopping?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Because we need to take this to the bedroom.” He lowered his head to nip at the side of her neck, tongue darting out to soothe it. “I’ve got plans for you,” he whispered against her skin.

  Her legs dropped from his waist, her brown eyes meeting his. “Let’s get it on, then.”

  Smirking, he said, “Why, Lee, are you tossing out some Marvin Gaye on me?”

  One of her eyebrows quirked. “Maybe I am,” she replied saucily.

  “Two things.” He grinned.

  Playing along, she said, “One?”

  He dipped his head to her ear to whisper huskily, “I plan on making you forget your own name, tonight.”

  “And two?” she whispered back.

  “You won’t want to go home once I’ve had my way with you.”

  “Might cocky aren’t we?”

  Pressing into her, he let her feel his arousa
l. “You’re about to find out just how cocky I am.”

  Leading her down the hallway, they made their way to his bedroom. Once inside the dimly lit room, partially opened blinds allowing for the full moon’s light, he felt a shift, a sudden burst of intensity in the air.

  Walking her back to the bed until it hit the back of her legs, he retreated, moving two feet away from her.

  “Strip for me.” His words came out gravelly but firm. And, fuck, the look in Lee’s eyes almost undid him. Because those brown eyes of hers turned nearly molten at his words.

  Her hands moved to the simple blue V-necked shirt she wore, pulling it from the waistband of her snug, form-fitting black pants. Her arms lifted it up, tugging it over her head, tousling her hair a bit in the process. Immediately, her fingers went to work on unfastening her pants.

  “Stop.” His command gave her pause, eyes lifting up to meet his in question. “Remove your bra, first.”

  Her fingers moved to the clasp at her back, unfastening it quickly, letting the straps slide down her shoulders.

  “Slowly, Lee.” His lips curved upward. “Tease me.”

  Her movements slowed, eyes locked onto his as she slid one strap all the way down her arm before lowering the other, a hand holding the bra to her breasts, not yet baring them.

  “Slowly,” he repeated, watching as she let one side of the bra drop, baring one breast to him. One perfectly puckered nipple the color of a ripened raspberry, making his mouth water with the urge to take it in his mouth, taste it, lick it—

  When she bared both breasts to him, he couldn’t help himself. Moving swiftly, one hand going to her hair, threading his fingers through it, he tugged her in for a deep, wet, kiss. One of his hands traveled down to her breast, the pad of his thumb grazing her nipple, feeling it tighten more beneath his touch.

  “Mine.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken the words aloud until he heard her sharp intake of breath. Eyes darting to hers, noticing her pupils were dilated, heavy lidded with lust, he repeated the word. “Mine.”