Swing (Landry Family #2)(59)

The sun sets behind him, dropping below the tall evergreens. It makes the angles of his face that much more severe. I shiver, not just because the sun’s warmth is missing, but because of the way his gaze intensifies in the fading light.

“You do know me,” he says, trailing the back of his hand from my temple, down the side of my face, before dropping to my waist. “And if you think you don’t know something, I want you to ask me.”

This conversation is picking up pace. Lincoln’s determination to get to wherever he’s going is evident. I just try not to pass out.

A million thoughts swirl in my head. Am I ready for this? Do I go with my brain and breathe, thinking of logic and risk assessment? Or do I follow my heart and just go for it?

He smirks and one thing is certain: I can’t follow my vagina.

“Do you think you know me, Dani?”

I nod. Or I think I do. I’m not sure. I’m lost in his gaze and a chorus of crickets chirping around us.

“The last time I said this, you tried to break up with me,” he laughs. It’s not real though. It’s a choked version, broken up by a set of nerves I don’t see often in him. “But I want to say it again. And I want you to consider it.”

He steps towards me, closing the distance between us. Without a thought, my arms reach up and dangle off his shoulders as his own find my waist and pull me up against him.

“That’s why you brought me out here, isn’t it?” I tease. “You brought me into the forest where I can’t run away.”

“Damn right,” he laughs, kissing me gently. “I didn’t bring you here to convince you that I’m the guy for you. I really want you to enjoy the holiday and relax and have fun with this bunch I call family. But I’d really, really, like it if you’d think about maybe . . .”

“Maybe what, Landry?”

His face blushes. “You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Totally.”

Blowing out a breath, he looks at everywhere but me. When his eyes finally find mine, I’m smiling. There’s no way not to.

“I would like it if you’d think about taking this thing between us to the major leagues,” he says. His shoulders go back, like he’s proud of his little proposition. The entire thing makes me giggle. “You’re laughing at me?”

“The majors? Really, Landry?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “We’re in the minors now. We’re practicing, getting our timing down. But, sweetheart, our timing is impeccable. If it gets any fucking better, I’m just not letting you out of my bed.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” I wink.

“I want to move us up to the majors. Charge the mound whenever I want.”

“Oh my God,” I laugh.

“Have some day games, maybe a double header or two. And I’ll slide in head first whenever you want me to, baby.”

“You aren’t talking about baseball, are you?” I say, feeling my thighs clench together.

“Nope.”

His fingers skirt the top of my waistband, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My body temperature elevates quicker than Pepper changes her mind about soup.

“Landry . . .” I all but beg.

“Say yes.” His breath is hot against my cheek.

The harder I try to focus on the request, the harder it is to do just that. My body riots for this man. My heart leads the charge. My brain, even though it still blinks a faint red light of warning, gives in.

“You win,” I say, working to dig my hands beneath the elastic of his boxer briefs.

“Does that mean yes?”

“Damn it, Landry,” I pant, taking his girth in my hand. “Didn’t you hear me?”

He skims up my abs and removes my breasts from my bra, leaving them sitting on the cups. The cool evening air causes my nipples to form peaks.

“I heard you,” he says. “And I didn’t hear a yes.”

He squats in front of me. My shirt is raised to my chin. His tongue darts out, flicking against one nipple before doing the same to the other. “Yes?” he asks.

Taking both a deep breath and his face in my hands, I pull him back just so I can see in his eyes. “Yes, Landry. But I’m going to need you to hit me home now.”

His lips hover over my breast. “It’ll be my pleasure.”





Danielle

I CRAWL INTO THE BED layered with down comforters and crisp white sheets. Fresh from the shower and wearing one of Lincoln’s Arrows t-shirts, I don’t smell quite as much like dirt as I did when we got back to the house. Nestling deep in the mountain of fabric, I wait for Lincoln.

I hear his laughter trickle from the stairs, a voice with his that I think is Ford’s. Some inside joke was shared between him and Lincoln when we came up the path and saw Ford standing there. I’m not sure what it was about, but the way they teased each other made me wish I had that rapport with them.

The door squeaks open and Lincoln walks inside. A pair of dark grey shorts is the only thing covering his delectable body. His hair, still damp from the shower, shines in the light radiating from the desk lamp across the room.

“I had needles stuck everywhere,” he laughs, setting a glass of ice water on the table beside the bed. “I’m not sure why we thought that was a good idea.”