“Lucky!” His stepmother’s eyes light up as if I had suddenly morphed into a pot of gold, and I give a little laugh at her enthusiasm. I’m used to people having unique reactions to my name. Growing up, my peers were brutal at times, but I’ve never really let that bother me. But it’s reactions like hers that make me feel special in some strange way.
“So, what’s on the board this evening?” Lawson’s father pulls up his pants by the belt loops.
Lawson lands his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in for a moment, and that small physical brush with his body makes my insides spark to life.
“I thought we’d head up and watch a couple of movies. Just something to pass the time.”
My stomach clenches when he says that. Just something to pass the time. It sounds so dismal, so very not special. The thought deflates me. It’s clear I’ve let all of the heart-shaped hype get to me. I’m certainly not looking for anything romantic with Lawson and his little prince. I’m just here to watch movies, aren’t I?
“Ah-ha!” His stepmother claps her hands. “Netflix and chill!” She gives a knowing nod, and it’s all I can do to keep from bursting with laughter. Oh my dear God. I glance to Lawson who gives a wild eyes shrug my way. “That’s exactly what we’re going to be doing downstairs, too!” she sings with what sounds like a touch of naughty excitement.
His father gives a straight-faced nod. “It’s nice to see you hooking up with new people, son.” He looks to his other half and winks. “Two can play at the millennial lingo game.”
They share a laugh as she links her arm with her husband’s. “Have good time, you two!”
They start to walk away, and his father backtracks. “Don’t forget to raid the fridge! Nothing gets my appetite worked up like chilling with Netflix and hooking up with my main squeeze!”
“You bet.” Lawson closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Welcome to the geriatric jungle, Lucky. My family is completely insane. I hope you don’t hate them. They mean well.”
“Are you kidding?” I swallow down a laugh. “I love them. I’d give anything to have that kind of entertainment in my life. It’s priceless if you ask me.”
Lawson offers a brief tour of the expansive downstairs as we comply with his father’s orders and raid the fridge before taking our organic veggie, cholesterol-free cookie haul upstairs. Lawson’s room is down the hall and to the back, and for the life of me I can’t comprehend living in a house this big even if that good time has already ended for Lawson himself. The first thing about his room that catches my eye is the horseshoe hanging over his doorframe.
“Is that for luck?” It begged the question.
“My mom put that up when I was a kid.” His face compresses with something just this side of sadness. “I had a tough year. Chubby kid who got picked on and left alone. My dad signed me up for summer basketball camp, and I never looked back.”
“Sounds like you’ve been getting lucky ever since.” A part of me wishes not all of the girls would notice this new and improved version of Lawson, and I’m not entirely sure why.
He opens the door to a rather tidy, behemoth room. A double bed sits in the center with a full-blown sofa off to the right and a large screen TV up on the opposing wall.
“Okay, you win. This is way better than watching old rom-coms on my laptop.”
“Old rom-coms? Sounds brutal.” He turns on the TV, and we settle on the couch. “How about horror?”
“I don’t do horror.” I bounce my knee to his. “Except for the real-life version whenever you’re around.”
“I’d ask if a comedy was okay, but who needs artificial laughs when I’ve got a comedian on my hands?” He presses his leg to mine and keeps it there.
A missile precision heat ignites in that very spot and travels all along the length of my body, spreading throughout my chest like a brush fire.
“What does that leave us with?” My voice comes out parched, unexpectedly low and gravely, as if I were trying to seduce him.
“Mystery, drama, romance.”
“Sounds like my life story.” I’m only half-teasing. The first two were spot-on, anyway.
“You wish.” A dark laugh rumbles through his chest. “I haven’t seen you serial dating a single guy on campus.” He says serial dating in air quotes because those happened to be the very words I used to describe the journey I was about to embark on. “And don’t give me that they’re all taken BS. I happen to know a litany of guys who are locked and loaded and ready to troll. There’s a bustling economy of eligible young men for you to choose from.”
“Trolls being the operative word.” I take off my shoes and reposition myself with my legs beneath me, accidently landing so close to him our shoulders touch. “And for your information, it’s a false economy. Half the guys at Briggs don’t realize their future prospective girlfriends are stalking them. Hitting on a guy who has a huntress attached to him is just as bad as getting together with someone who is very much taken.”
“Geez. You girls and your head games.” He winces before settling on a movie that we both agree on. I’ve actually seen it before. A couple goes on a retreat to save their relationship and basically end up hooking up with the entire island until they eventually hook up with one another again, and they head home seemingly better for the experience. It’s screwball enough for Lawson to love it.
“I actually don’t play any head games.” It comes out low as if I were speaking to myself. “And you’re right. I totally need to step up my game. More than half my freshman year is over, and I haven’t—”
He leans forward to get a better look at me.
Crap. I almost all but admitted that I’m still a virgin—still looking for a single boy to call my own rather than dipping into multiples.
“Haven’t what?” His lips twitch with the smile he’s too greedy to give.
“Haven’t beat my record for last year. Each year I try to top myself. You know, notch up my bedpost by at least ten prospects.” Ten? In addition to the other nonexistent boys I’ve bedded? And really? Marking up my bedpost? I would no sooner carve furniture than I would gouge my eye out. Jet works hard for everything he provides me with, and the last thing I’m going to do is destroy it.
“What’s this?” Lawson picks up my wrist and gently turns it over, examining my tattoo gone wrong.
“This, my ring-through-the-penis-friend, is my error in judgment. I don’t know why I didn’t go to my brother. On second thought, I do know why. He refused to give me a tat on command last September, so instead of patiently waiting for him, I went to the first rusty needle I could find. That shop was run by conmen.”
“What exactly is that I’m looking at?” He cradles my hand in his as he brings my arm up closer for inspection. Lawson’s musky cologne, the heat from his body washes over me in waves, and I feel a little dizzy as if I might fall over. His chest rises and falls with such an arrogant calm I almost want to swat him for it. I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time around a member of the opposite sex who isn’t my brother. I don’t think I’ve ever felt my heart racing as if I’ve just run a miracle mile in less than ten seconds. But there’s something about Lawson tonight, about that dark, thick hair my fingers ache to run through, about the way his hand is holding mine as if it were fragile as a butterfly. There is just something about this moment that I cannot put my finger on.
“It’s a rose spearing through a heart,” I whisper as if it were my greatest grievance, and at this point in my life it sort of is.
“Did you get your money back?”
“Very funny.” I go to pull my hand away, but Lawson interlaces our fingers instead. “What’s with the hand job?” I try to snark it out like usual, but my voice hitches.
He winces. “I take it you don’t know what a hand job is.”
Crap. Note to self: ask Ava or Harper what the hell a hand job is. On second thought, they’re both so innocent I’d better ask Daisy.
“Yes, I know what a hand job is.” I rack m
y brain for a moment. “It’s my specialty.” I give his fingers a squeeze. It’s just a hand. How bad can it be?
Lawson ticks his head back with a suppressed laugh and tries his hardest to focus in on the screen up ahead. “So, tell me what else you specialize in? Any other body parts you care to showcase on these serial dates?”
“I mostly use my lips. You know, when my hand gets tired. I like kissing.” It’s true. I do like kissing, especially since it’s all I’ve ever really done, but this walking dildo who happens to be giving me a hand job—what with the way he’s rubbing his thumb over my palm—doesn’t need to know that.
“That’s freaking disgusting,” he moans as if I just vomited on his comfy brown sofa. “I mean, not in theory, but that you’d want to do that to a bunch of guys.” He leans back to get a better look at me, and I’m forced to turn my face to the ceiling to meet up with his gaze. Lawson is taller than me on foot, and yet even here on the sofa I’m dwarfed by his presence. There are so many girls at Briggs—in my sorority who are completely smitten with this tall, drop-your-panties gorgeous beast of a man. I wonder what they would do if they were in my position?
His lids hood over until there’s just a line of neon green peering from beneath. His breathing picks up pace, and from my peripheral vision I watch as his chest pounds in and out as if he’s just run the ball up and down the court twelve times.
“Don’t do that stuff, okay?” he says the words over my hair, searing my scalp with his breath. “I don’t want anyone to take advantage of you like that. I mean, if you were my little sister.” The words explode over my scalp in puffs, and a brilliant sizzle of electricity strums throughout my body. “I’m sure Rush wouldn’t want that either. I’m pretty sure your real brother would shit a brick if he knew.”
A soft laugh rolls through me as I latch my other hand to his arm. I don’t hesitate to run my fingers slowly up and down his rock-hard biceps. It’s something I’ve wanted to do ever since the first time I saw his muscles jumping on the court. Lawson may be hard as sheetrock, but his skin feels smooth and soft as velvet, and I marvel at this.
“Yes, he most certainly would. And then, he would take that brick and bash the poor boy’s brains in. That’s why I don’t tell my big brother anything—either of them actually.” Not to mention the fact I don’t really care for lying to my big brothers. But for some reason, stretching the truth with Lawson feels second nature, and that thought alone weighs heavy on me.
“What else do you do with those lips?” He slides down a notch until his eyes are level with mine, and my heart lets out one horrific boom.
“Just kiss,” I whisper as if I were divulging classified evidence.
“So, if I were a guy and I came in like this”—his head inches toward mine, and I can feel his warm breath over my mouth—“what would you do?” His voice is even-keeled, not a note of sarcasm, and that heady cologne, the feel of his muscles—his chest pressed to my arm begins to intoxicate me until my own breathing is just as erratic as his. I lean in ever so close, and my mouth parts, ready and waiting.
“I would do this.” My lips graze over his just barely, and my insides jump as my adrenaline spikes. I gasp in a never-ending breath at the thought of what I’ve done.
Of course, Lawson wasn’t asking for a kiss. My face heats hotter than lava at the thought of embarrassing myself this way, and I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye.
“I think”—he whispers right over my lips, and my heart thrashes throughout my entire body like a prison riot—“that was nice, but maybe you should do it like this.” Lawson touches his lips over mine, and I die a sweet, smoldering death on the inside. He comes in slow and lingering before pressing in with something harder, far more enthusiastic, and then I do what I never thought in a million years I would do—I open for him. Lawson’s tongue touches mine with a gentle sweep, swimming over mine, teaching me, guiding me in the way he thinks it should be done best.
A groan works its way up my throat, and without hesitation I’m all in. So what if I’ve sent the wrong message? So what if he’s sending me the wrong message? It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m entitled to a kiss—if you can quantify something this deliciously spectacular as something so basic.
Lawson wraps his arms around me, and I can feel the heft of his rock-hard body against mine. My hands drift to his waist and accidentally slide up his T-shirt—before I realize it, I’m gliding over his expansive chest. He pulls me close until we’re better able to soak in the magic that this unexpected moment brings. Lawson’s tongue is a force to be reckoned with, sweeping aggressively, owning my mouth, owning me in the very best way.
I should probably slap the living hell out of him—then shortly thereafter, slap the living hell out of myself, but I can’t seem to let go. I can’t seem to break my mouth from his, and if I’m honest, which is a rarity in and of itself, I don’t want to.
I want this kiss, this night to last far longer than the time allotted.
And mostly, I don’t want Lawson Kent to regret a living, breathing moment of it.
Lawson
The drive home last night was more than a little awkward—more like majorly awkward, sort of the way I imagine it would feel if I walked in on my dad and Lynette hooking up while they enjoy their Netflix and chill time. I shake my head at the memory of last night.
I wasn’t sure how Lucky would react once we came up for air, but on the bright side, it didn’t end with an assault and battery charge, so that was a plus. I can still feel her mouth moving over mine, and it makes my balls ache. Hell, it was all a very big plus. Lucky is a great kisser. Any guy would be glad to have her do just that to him for an hour straight like she did me. The thought of a hundred douchebags lined up and ready to chew on Lucky’s face makes my blood boil. Of course, it does. I’m protective of her because for one I’m essentially her paid bodyguard no thanks to her tank of a brother. Crap. If word ever got back to Jet about my night moves last night, I’m sure giving him a refund would be the least of my worries. Hell, I’d pay him double not to rearrange my face all that much.
This afternoon, Scarlett called to make sure I’d be at the Black Bear tonight for the twins’ surprise birthday party. She rattled on and on about how wonderful it will be and rattled out an extensive guest list, which included Dad and Lynette, our siblings, and several of their friends. I happen to know she and Rex are friends with Jet. And I vaguely remember asking Lucky to come.
I stop outside the entrance, next to the iconic stuffed black bear that has been in more WB selfies than that horse of a mascot, and pull out my phone.
I didn’t dare communicate with Lucky in any way, shape, or form since I dropped her off at Cutler Tower last night. But I’ll feel like an ass if I don’t remind her about the party.
What’s up, girl? Delete, delete, delete. Too casual. Hey, Luck, that party for the twins is at the Black Bear in five. Come down if you want to wish them a happy birthday. Your presence is gift enough.
There. That last line was verbatim from Scarlett. I’m sure she’s been using it all day as she herds the masses here. Poor Trix and Knox won’t have a single gift to unwrap thanks to my sister.
Whoa. I stare back down at the text I just sent. That last line, coming from me—after last night—it just sounds all together wrong. Although, ironically it feels about right. I like having Lucky around. Yes, she’s annoying at times, but that’s because she’s trying to grate on me. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone pay so much attention to me as Lucky has, even if it was in an effort to irritate me. I’ve had girlfriends before, one that lasted nine months, and not even she was as spirited and fun to hang out with as Lucky.
The dancing ellipses pop up on my phone, letting me know she’s responding, and I brace myself for it.
I’m already here, you big dope. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Why are you late? Still fantasizing about that kiss? I thought I’d give you a taste of what I let the boys enjoy. I hope you have great tactile memory
skills because it’s NEVER happening again. BTW, the girls at Cutler have pooled a nice $um of money together, and it’s all mine if I can get you to send me a snapshot of your little royal friend.
I can’t help but laugh. Not happening, sweetheart. What I let the girls enjoy is a private reserve. You’ll have to think of another way to turn a dime.
I head into the Black Bear full of adrenaline and my heart beating wild. The band is roaring out a cover song that you hear on the radio every fifteen minutes, and just as I’m cruising past the bar on my way to the back, Jet nods me over.
Shit.
“Dude, help me out.” He hands me a couple of beers, and I follow him back to the poolroom. “How’s it going? You steering the boners in other directions?”
A knot tenses in my throat because I happened to have a very big boner after dropping Lucky off at her dorm. I went back and took care of my very hard problem in the shower, and as much as I wanted that mental visual to be of any other girl, Lucky’s face kept popping up front and center. Lucky was the only girl I wanted to help with that release last night. I never came so much in my life.
“Yeah, I’m keeping them away.” And keeping myself closer than ever before. That heated kiss sweeps through my mind like a nuclear wind.
Jet steps in front of me with a look that spells out certain death—a slow and painful one at that. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Oh my—shit. Of course, he can read my mind. The dude is simply not human.
He closes his eyes briefly. “You think I’m an ass for being so overprotective. Look, she’s my only sister—my only family.” He leans in as if ready to divulge something personal. “I’d do anything for that kid, and as sad as it sounds, there’s not another soul on the planet that would be willing to do just that. I’m all she’s got. I only want the best for her.”
“I get it. I’ve got sisters of my own, and I want the best for them, too.” Rex bounces through my mind, and I let him bounce right out. He can’t be the best for Scarlett. He’s practically her brother now. How can they not see how sick that is for themselves?