Sway (Landry Family #1)(51)
I pull my face away from hers, my hands finding the side of her angelic face. As much as I want to thrust into her sweet little pussy, I find myself wanting to savor the moment of feeling, for the first time in maybe forever, able to breathe.
Barrett
THE TELEVISION IS ON, THE volume low, and Alison is giggling at my side. I have no idea what’s actually happening in the movie or what made me bring a plate of Brie, crackers, and fruit into bed, effectively breaking a huge rule of my own.
I’m lost in the sound of her voice echoing off the walls of my bedroom. I’m perplexed by the fact that I’m not sure this room will feel the same without her in it now.
Women have been in my bed before. They’ve stayed the night, stayed the weekend. But as soon as they look at home propped up on my pillows, I’m usually ready to ship them out. So why do I want to lock her down so she can never leave?
She pops a strawberry in her mouth, her lips forming an ‘o’ over the fruit. Her features are animated, soft, uncomplicated. She catches me staring and drops her hands to the bed.
“What?” she asks, swallowing the bite of fruit.
“Nothing,” I grin.
“You’re looking at me weird.”
“Looking at you like you’re beautiful is weird now?”
Her grin widens and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re a charmer, Landry.”
“You’re a beauty, Miss Baker.”
I lean over the tray between us and kiss her lazily. Her mouth is sweet like the fruit and I could go back in for thirds, since I had her once we got in here too, but I don’t.
My landline rings, the handset beside my bed rattling, making Alison jump.
“I didn’t know people still used those!” she exclaims
“No one calls mine but my mother and Nolan. I’d just get rid of it, but it’s wired somehow into the security system of the house or something.”
“Do you need to get it?”
“Nah, it’s too late to be Mom. My cell is off, so it’s probably Nolan pissed he can’t get me and wants to ride my ass about some campaign statement or interview.”
She glances at the clock over my shoulder and presses her lips, still swollen from our kisses, together. “I probably need to be going home.”
“Why?”
She swallows and I see the trepidation washing over her out of nowhere. “Because it’s getting late?”
It’s more of a question than a reason and one I won’t let go.
“We aren’t teenagers, although you could pull off the twenty-something look better than me,” I tease. “Troy can take you home whenever I ask him to. You don’t have to leave now.”
“I probably should.”
I watch her wrangle with her decision and I can tell she doesn’t really want to. She won’t look at me, won’t let me see into her eyes.
“Babe, what’s wrong?”
Although the words were harmless, she flutters her eyes up to mine and there’s a spark of pain hidden inside the blue irises.
She doesn’t answer me.
“You better talk to me,” I lead, rubbing my thumb over her knuckle.
“I guess for awhile I forgot who you are.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask, looking at her like she’s crazy. “Who I am?”
She takes a deep breath and the smile on her face is almost one of resignation. “I forgot about all of that,” she says with a wave towards my phone.
“Alison, it’s a part of my job. It’s not going to go away.”
“No, I know,” she sighs. “I just got swept away and . . .” She giggles, a soft, sweet, little rasp. “I relaxed. Do you know the last time I relaxed like this?”
I kiss her again, squarely on the lips. “You can come here and relax like this any time you want.”
She takes my hand in hers and draws little designs on my palm. She’s thinking, lost in some world I’m not privy to, and I want to ask questions. My curiosity is off the charts and I want to fix whatever’s bothering her, but I don’t ask what it is because I’m afraid maybe I can’t fix it.
“What scares you, Barrett?” she asks finally, putting both of her small hands around mine. The warmth from her skin floods into me and I want to wrap myself around her in every way.
“Election day,” I half-joke.
She smiles, but I can tell that’s not what she meant. Still, this is not a topic I’d like to delve into heavily.
“The words, ‘It’s your baby.’”
“Barrett!” she laughs, throwing a grape at me. “I’m being serious.”
“Me too,” I groan, but realize she’s not going to let me dodge this question. I blow out a breath and think. “I guess I’m scared of failure.”
The grin on her face dissolves and she leans back against the headboard. “Continue,” she prompts.
I shrug. “I . . . I don’t want to fail anyone. Being in my position, both as a Landry and as the mayor of the city, has all sorts of responsibilities, and I lay awake at night sometimes worrying about the best thing to do for everyone.”
“What about for you?”
My brows pull together and I lean back in the bed and face her. “What do you mean, what about me?”