Page 52 of Lawson
“So, what are your plans for today?” he asks, his plate cleaned as he leans back in the chair with his coffee mug in his hand.
“It's Sunday,” I say. “My day off. I normally catch up on laundry and shows. Thrilling, I know. You?”
His full lips shape that wolfish grin that’s become associated with the thrill of anticipation every time he flashes it at me. “Today is my day off too,” he says. “And I have big plans.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?” I ask before popping another bite into my mouth.
“First, I'm going to feed you. That task is already halfway done,” he says, eying my nearly finished plate. “Second, I'm going to clean up the mess I just made in your kitchen?—”
“You don't have to do that,” I cut him off, but he raises a hand and continues like I didn't say anything.
“And third,” he says. “I'm going to fuck you on this table.” He says the words so matter-of-factly that I'm not sure I hear him correctly.
I swallow my bite a little too hard and take a large sip of coffee, my eyes widening as they meet his.
“How does that sound to you?” he asks, nothing but confidence and sex and lust radiating from those eyes.
“Um,” I say, my heart racing.
It sounds amazing to me, but isn’t this more intimate than either one of us signed up for? I mean, he made me breakfast for fuck’s sake, but then he also said he wanted to fuck me on this table which didn't really sound like boyfriend material, did it?
Not that I would really know because the only boyfriend I ever had turned out to be a toxic selfish prick. But Lawson knows where I stand, and I know wherehestands, so what’s the harm in it?
I take my last few bites, quickly standing up to grab both of our empty plates and taking them to the kitchen. “I'm done,” I finally say, hoping he interprets that as answer enough.
I'm pretty sure he does because he's behind me in an instant, gently pushing me out of the way so he can get to the sink where all the dishes are piled.
“You go sit,” he says. “I need you all settled and recharged before I get my hands on you.”
A giggle rips from my lips, and I'm unable to stop it, a blush raking down my cheeks and my neck, making my skin feel warm and too tight at the same time.
I do as I'm told because I honestly don't know how to respond to such intense confidence. He says the words like heknowsI’ll never say no. And somehow, there’s still a level of control on my end of it with me fully understanding that if Ididsay no he’d never press the issue.
Somehow, that endears him to me in a way that no amount of endless orgasms can.
Not to mention the man is cleaning up after cooking breakfast for me. I always heard everybody talk about how it's the small things that matter and thatif he wanted to he would, but I never thought in a million years that Lawson Wolfe would be one of those types of men.
He’s certainly full of surprises, and I find myself eager to uncover every single one he has.
My knee bounces in anticipation as I wait, and I swear the man cleans the kitchen slowly on purpose to wind me up even more.
No amount of scrolling on my phone or checking in with the girls on the group text helps distract me from the very real fact that he said he was going to have his way with me once he was done. Putting a time frame on it only heightened every sense I had, all of my nerve endings sparking to life anytime he glances my way.
“There can't be anything else to clean,” I finally say after I can't take it any longer. All the memories from last night are still fresh in my mind, my body responding to just the thought of the things we did.
A soft chuckle rumbles from his chest as he dries his hands on a dish towel before putting it back on my oven handle.
He walks out of the kitchen, but takes up a good lean against the entryway, his eyes slowly trailing over my body, which I suddenly am painfully aware probably looks like a hot mess.
I threw my hair in a bun, and the sweats and T-shirt combo I'd grabbed from my room were definitely not the outfit I would’ve chosen if I knew I'd find him in my kitchen. Still, he’s looking at me like I’m the dessert he needs after that big meal.
“A little eager are we, damsel?” he teases.
I open and close my mouth a few times, searching for the perfect quip that will put his painfully large ego in its place.
But I don't find one because he's not wrong.
“Can you blame me?” I ask, and his eyebrows raise as if that wasn't the answer he expected. “I've never experienced what I did last night at your hands. Naturally, I want another taste. Is that wrong?” I ask, my tone edging on the side of serious instead of playful.