Page 16 of The Back Forty (Whitewood Creek Farm #5)

“You still don’t know how to do voice to text. I have so many random messages from you with tiny two second voice notes of you grunting or huffing and nothing more. You're pushing the recording button and releasing, not the speech to text button.”?

I laugh. “I accidentally hit that button sometimes but can’t figure out how to trash it once I do.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not that difficult. Also, you act like you hate the romance movies I watch on long flights, but I’ve caught you sneaking peeks over my shoulder multiple times when you thought I was asleep, and I noticed you got teary eyed during a Walk to Remember .”

I shake my head and smirk. “To be fair, Regan made me watch that movie when we were kids and I forgot just how depressing it was. I'm not sure I understand the appeal. I mean, the woman dies at the end.”

She pats my bicep teasingly. "That's because you weren't in middle school when it came out, and you didn't print photos of Shane West to tape to your red, math folder and smile at every day."

“You're right. I definitely did not do that."

"Okay, next thing. You never fold your clothing.”

“This is true. What’s the point when I’m just going to take them out and practically live out of a suitcase anyways?”

“Um, wrinkles exist, you know.”

I shrug. “Adds to the whole look I’m trying to achieve. I'm showing our clients that I'm a down-home, small town boy.”

She shakes her head and smiles. “Whatever you say, boss. Oh, and the way you floss, it’s fucking weird.”

I gasp dramatically. “How is the way I floss weird?”

“It’s like,” she motions with her hands back and forth aggressively like she’s working a table saw. “Like you don’t care about your gums. I don’t get how they aren’t bleeding when we hop off the plane.”

“I have to get in there. Crowded teeth.”

“Your teeth are perfectly straight, and you know it,” she rolls her eyes, and I want to call her out for giving me a compliment, but I also want her to keep going. She’s smiling and at ease now, and that makes me smile.

“You sneeze like a dad.”

I put up a hand. “Well, I am one.”

“I know, Daddy , but your sneezes are full body and honestly the first time I heard it, I peed myself a little. It’s terrifying.

Like you’re shouting with your sneeze. You’d think you’d try to contain it, but you don’t, and every surface must be covered in your sneeze particles when you let one loose. ”

I laugh harder at that. “I’ve been told that I have a scary sneeze.”

“I mean you should really work on toning it down. Hm, let’s see what else.

” She taps her lips adorably and my eyes drop right there, mesmerized by how soft they look in the dim lighting.

I can’t remember the last time I was this close to them.

She has a little freckle right next to the right corner, and I zone in on it, wondering how she’d react if I kissed right here. "Cookies," she finishes.

My brows raise. "What about cookies?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, boss. When you eat cookies, you eat them in one single bite."

"Less crumbs."

She throws her arms up in the air. "That's crazy, Lawson. You're not even enjoying the cookie. You're just shoving it in there to avoid a mess."

"How many bites does it take for you to finish a cookie?"

She doesn't hesitate. "At least four. I savor it."

I laugh. "I've seen you eat those cookies that the flight attendant's hand out. There's always crumbs all over the seat back table and your lap."

"But at least I enjoyed them and didn't just dump the bag in my mouth like a monster."

I chuckle. "I guess you're right."

“Okay, you set like a thousand alarms yet snooze every single one until your last and then get up. Like what’s the point?”

“How do you know that?” I raise a brow.

“Um, hello, hotel rooms are paper thin genius.”

And that has me pausing, because if she’s hearing my alarms is she hearing something else?

Namely, the occasional women that I know in the cities where we travel for work and bring back to my room.

It’s meaningless, of course, something to pass the time and it’s not often.

At least, not that often. I don't always sleep with them, sometimes we talk work and strategy, but being on the road gets lonely and since Dani was hired, it's been much less that I've allowed anything to happen. It’s extremely hard to get turned on by another woman when your assistant is batting her dark brown eyes at you across boardrooms all day.

Suddenly her gaze takes on a different look and I wonder if we’re wading into new territory now. Because the way Dani knows me and my quirks feels like she’s been paying more attention to me than what is necessary for the job.

I adjust myself on the bed, trying not to think about that too much.

“You feel better now that you’ve shamed me for my quirks?” I ask.

She smiles softer. “Yeah, a little bit. Let’s just act like this didn’t happen.”

No chance in hell.

“Sure,” I say, and the smirk I give her feels half-earned and fully dangerous.

I clear my throat lightly. “So, the real reason I came in here was to tell you… if you want me to handle Texas tomorrow, I will. I didn’t think about your plans, or what you might’ve wanted and that was selfish of me.

These two weeks are supposed to be your vacation, a chance at going to the State Fair this year, and I bulldozed straight through it without thinking.

I can’t even remember if you went last year. ”

Her expression shifts like a shutter clicked open. Wide eyes. Lips parting like she’s not sure if she’s surprised or impressed or one second away from telling me to fuck off.

“There’ll be other pitches,” I say, softer now. “You don’t have to drop everything for this one if you want to stay here and be with your sister.”

There’s a beat. And then—“Hell no,” she snaps. “You’re not going back on your offer now. I’m doing the damn pitch in Texas.”

I bark out a laugh. “So, I take it you want to come?”

Her eyes flicker, widen more.

Shit.

It hits me a second too late.

Come . I said she’s coming.

She wants to come.

Right now.

Her lips part, wet and glossy, and I glance down without thinking.

Just a flick of my eyes—but it’s a mistake.

A fatal one. Because now all I can think about is the way her mouth looked when she was panting a few minutes ago.

The way her chest is still rising too fast beneath that soft, clingy shirt.

The color of her brown nipples, pebbled against the thin cotton.

The flush along her collarbone from the orgasm I wasn’t supposed to walk in on.

And the fact that she’s thinking about coming right now while lying next to me on a bed in my house, only inches apart.

And right there, just an arm’s reach away, is that fucking pink vibrator she tossed on the bed.

I swallow hard. My jeans are suddenly too tight. My jaw clenches. Coming in here was a mistake. Talking about her coming was a mistake. Thinking about her come, a disaster.

She blinks up at me, lashes low. “Yes,” she says, quiet and breathless. “I still want to come.”

Her voice is soft, but it’s laced with something thick and heavy that sits right in my gut and drags heat to my cock like gravity.

I force myself to stand way too quickly.

To shift my weight and break whatever’s happening between us before I do something reckless.

Before I cross a line that I can’t uncross because for right now, we’re still talking about flying to Texas for a pitch, not her coming on my cock while she moans out my name, her chest bouncing as she rides me and I stare up into those brown eyes, mesmerized.

“I’ll book the tickets,” I say, my voice sounding strained even to my ears. “Flight leaves at ten. We’ll ride to the airport together.”

She nods, just once. “Okay.”

That’s all she says. But her voice is raw. A rasp of agreement that sticks to my skin long after I finally tear myself away and close her bedroom door behind me, this time for good. I brace my forearms against the frame, eyes squeezed shut.

Breathe, Lawson.

Fuck.

My room’s at the end of the hall, but it feels like a mile. I move fast, don’t look back. Don’t give myself a second to change my mind because I’m sure this is simply a case of it being too damn long since I’ve been laid. We’ve been busy, on the road practically all summer. I haven’t had time.

The truth is that I haven’t made time. And that’s all this is. My balls need a release. Nothing more. And it sure as shit can't be with her. Cash was right. I can't fuck this up. She's the best employee that we have.

I shut the door to my room behind me, twist the lock, and lean against it like it might hold me back from doing something worse.

But it’s no use.

My body’s on fire.

I shove my sweats down and my cock’s already stiff in my hand, thick and aching, precum slicking my thumb before I even move. I use it like lube then spit on my hand to wet myself further before dragging my grip down to the base and back up.

My balls are tight, like I’ve been edging for days. Hell, maybe I have. Maybe every glance, every breath she’s taken around me has been winding this coil tighter and tighter, and now it’s snapping.

I stroke once, twice, fist around my shaft and squeeze while my other hand braces against the closed door keeping me from her.

Her face flashes in my mind—flushed and wanting, back pressed into my sheets.

Her legs spread, that vibrator in her hand.

I wonder what she thought about when she used it.

I wonder if it was me. I wonder if she imagined my hands, my mouth, my cock stretching her open instead of plastic fueled by batteries.

Fuck me .

I pump harder, jaw clenched because that’s ridiculous. I’ve never let myself really think about her. Never let myself go there or fantasize when I’ve touched my dick. Because once I do, I know I won’t come back. I know I’ll ruin everything.

But now I can’t stop.

I think about the way she gasped when I said the word come .

The way her voice dipped when she told me she still wanted to.

Her dark brown hair a mess around her face, her nipples tight against her shirt, those curvy hips shifting like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

Like she needed to come again and was squirming to get it from me.

Like she needed me to finish her off.

I’d take my damn time with her. Ease her open with my mouth and my fingers. Show her what it means to be touched like she matters and teach her how the slow burn and tease feels better than a jack hammer to the pussy.

I’d wrap that dark hair around my wrist and fuck her slowly—deeply—until she came so hard she forgot her name. Until she sobbed mine and prayed for surrender.

God, she wouldn’t even know what to do with herself.

My abs contract as my cock jerks in my hand, and I grunt, hips lifting. Heat floods out of me in thick, hot spurts across my thighs as I release my climax faster than I ever have before with just my grip. My whole body pulses with her name.

I give myself a second to catch my breath then release the doorframe and move to the bed. Using the edge of my bedsheet, I wipe myself off with a hiss, then lie back and stare at the ceiling, lungs burning.

That’s it. The last time.

I tell myself it’s the first and last time I’ll allow that. Because tomorrow, it’s back to business. Back to our routine. Boss and employee. Boundaries locked up tight.

And damn if I’m gonna fuck up what we have.

But fuck if I don’t already feel the fault line cracking.