Page 19 of Three Not-So-Little Words (The Lawson’s #3)

nineteen

Busted

Drew

“ O kay, let me rephrase that,” Ronnie says without me saying anything about her previous comment. “I don’t hate kids. I have three nieces, and I love them all. I just know next to nothing about kids, and they’re kind of weird me out.”

“Fair enough,” I say with a small, uncomfortable laugh.

I knew she was too good to be true.

Maybe I should tell her the truth right now. She’d probably want to call this whole thing off.

Or maybe not.

We’re wanting to keep this whole thing casual afte rall. It’s not like I’m looking for a mother for Colton. I’m perfectly good with having someone to have fun with while he’s with his grandma.

So, does it really matter if I bring it up?

And I’ve tried to bring it up in the past, and she said she didn’t want to hear it.

Fuck it.

I tell the nagging voice in my head to shut the hell up so that we can have a good time.

“You okay?” Ronnie asks due to my sudden silence.

“Yeah.” I smile. “Just getting ready to whoop your ass in laser tag.”

“You talk a big game, sir.”

Wanting to knock her down a couple of pegs, I lean in and whisper, “The only time I want you calling me sir is when you’re naked and on your knees.”

For the briefest of moments, I swear that I see her facade break, but before I can know for sure, she has an idea of her own.

Looking up at me through her thick eyelashes, she says, “If I’m naked and on my knees, my mouth will be a little too full to say anything.”

Okay, well, that backfired.

“You may have to prove that to me later.”

The people ahead of us in line finish up and step out of the way, so Ronnie moves forward and pays for our game.

I’m normally one who always pays when I’m on a date. But I can tell that Ronnie wouldn’t take no for an answer.

And as she keeps reminding me, this isn’t a date.

A few minutes later, we have our laser guns in hand and light up vests strapped to our chests.

At first, they were going to put us on the same team, but Ronnie insists that we are pitted against each other. The worker gives us a confused look, but he seems too exhausted to care. I feel kind of bad for him. I’d be exhausted too. Anyone who works primarily with kids deserves a medal.

We head inside to the miniature makeshift city they built. Black lights line the ceiling and bright neon spotlights shine every which way.

A voice over the speaker announces for us to spread out. Then a timer counts down from ten.

Once the game begins, everyone starts frantically running around. The kids are all shooting at anyone who crosses their paths—even their own teammates. Meanwhile, I haven’t so much as aimed at a single kid. There’s only one player I’m after.

Ronnie.

Unfortunately, she is way better at this than I am. She keeps popping around corners, shooting me, and then disappearing again. I have no idea how she’s doing it.

You know when you play Whack-A-Mole, and that little fucker just keeps eluding you? That’s how I feel.

Just when I think I’m hot on her trail, I see her jump out once again. But this time, she doesn’t shoot me. Instead, she grabs my arm and yanks me into a small enclave behind a black curtain.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

I barely get the words out before she yanks me toward her and presses her lips to mine.

It takes me by surprise, but it doesn’t take me long to jump on board. Each of us drops our guns. If not for the cord that attaches them to our vests, they would fall to the floor.

Pushing her back against the wall, I let my hands roam all over her body. The kids screaming in the background drown out the sounds of our heavy breaths. I can hear kids running by, but none of them come too close.

Just when I’m convinced we’ve found the perfect spot, the curtain is ripped open. We jump away from each other as though lightning struck between us.

We turn to see that it’s not a kid who caught us. It’s a worker. He looks us up and down, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah, you two are going to have to leave.”

We each take off our gear and hand it to him. While walking out of the building, we both hang our heads in shame. It isn’t until we are outside that we look at each other and lose the ability to hold in our laughter any longer.

I watch as she throws her head back, giggling. As if I wasn’t already aware, it’s becoming more and more obvious that Ronnie is so very different than any woman I’ve been with.

Before we get into the truck, I pull her close, run my fingers through her hair, and press a sensual kiss to her lips. I can feel her body practically melt against mine.

When I pull back, I look at her. “You’re something else. Do you know that?”

She smiles and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip before giving me a slow nod.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, opening her door for her.

Since I am still trying to figure out my way around town, I plug her address into the GPS.

Ronnie bops around to the song on the radio. Her elbow hits the center console, and she lets out a small shriek.

I lift it up so that it’s out of the way. “There. Now, you can dance unimpeded.”

She gets that twinkle in her eye—that one that’s becoming more and more familiar.

“If that thing lifts up, I can think of far better things to do than dance.”

She scoots into the middle of the seat so that her body is right against mine. She sets her hand on my knee, but it doesn’t take long for her to begin traveling up my thigh.

“Ronnie,” I warn.

She doesn’t listen at all. It almost makes her more determined.

A groan rumbles in my throat as she squeezes my cock through my jeans.

“Ronnie, what are you doing?”

“Just playing.” She tries to sound as innocent as possible.

“Do you want me to crash?” I look over at her.

She uses her fingers to tilt my face forward. “No, that’s why you need to look at the road.”

Next, she lifts my other hand and sets it on the wheel. “Better use two hands. You need to focus.”

Her fingers undo the button on my jeans and lowers the zipper enough to pull out my dick.

“Mmm,” she moans. “You’re so hard.”

“Wonder why.”

Her soft hands stroke me, slowly moving up and down. It takes every ounce of willpower I have to keep my truck on the road.

“You are going to pay for this,” I tell her.

She squeezes me a little tighter, and my jaw clenches.

“Sweetheart, do you want me to pull this truck over right now and fuck the shit out of you?”

Without warning, she tucks me back into my jeans. “No. We can wait.”

I don’t know which drove me more crazy—her touching me or her letting go.

She looks around to see where we are before saying, “Hey, we’re on Oak. Which one of the houses is yours?”

“It’s up here on the right.” I point as we drive by.

“No shit! That’s the old Stewart place. One of my old boyfriends grew up there.”

“Oh? Do I need to clean and disinfect the house with some bleach?”

Still looking out the window, she says, “I doubt it. We were in second grade.”

I laugh and shake my head.

Yeah. She’s something else alright.