Saving Lawson (Loving Lawson Book 2)

by Lewis, R. J.

  “I am hungry for it! I just don’t get why we don’t have it done by someone. Why are we doing it ourselves?”

  “For the experience,” I explained. “When you create something from your bare hands, you’ll feel a kind of rush that makes it all worth it. You want something, you have to work for it. That’s just the way it is in life.”

  His brown eyes ogled me before he raked his dark brown hair off his forehead and muttered, “That’s what Mom said you did with her.”

  I chuckled. “Your mom definitely didn’t make it easy.”

  No, it took six months just for Maria to come around. Even when I tried to lavish her with nice things, she turned the other cheek. Maria was modest and beautiful. She came from a poor town in Panama. She had worked at the bank where I’d deposited my money, and the second we made eye contact, I felt something.

  Something good. Something different.

  Something delicious.

  “Ryker, for the hundredth time, come here right this second!” Maria shouted.

  “I’m filthy,” I called back.

  “I don’t care. You have to see this! Now, Ryker, now!”

  If she didn’t care that I was in my filthy overalls and my hands were greasy, then it definitely meant it was important. I hurried with Kyle to the back porch of our three storey home, built from locally quarried limestone; its upper level balconies gave direct view of the Pacific Ocean. It was a stone’s throw away from the beach, and it suited our lifestyle to a tee.

  I traded in a shit town for paradise.

  I stepped into the house and followed that curvy body to the living area. She looked back at me, and for a moment I wanted to just lose myself in her chocolate, dizzying eyes. She looked like a fucking dream right now, and I was always hungry for her when I kicked around in that shed for long.

  She pursed her plump red lips and gestured to the flat screen television.

  “Focus,” she said. “You have to see this.”

  I eventually tore my gaze from her and stared at a MMA match between two men. My eyebrows came together in confusion. Where was she going with this?

  “Look hard at the man with the dark hair,” she told me. “And pay attention to what the commentators are saying.”

  I did as I was told and watched the dark haired man. He slayed his opponent, punch after punch until he cornered him. He went for an uppercut and his opponent fell back, hitting the ring like a sack of potatoes.

  When the camera zoomed in on him, I immediately lost my breath.

  “Unbelievable! Kayden Lawson has managed another TKO!” bellowed the commentator, whistling his praise.

  For several minutes as they kept the camera on his face, looking like a broader, stronger spitting image of me, I felt like my entire body had come apart. My heart rate accelerated and my palms got sweaty.

  “Is… that him, Dad?” Lucas asked cautiously. “Is that… my brother?”

  I’d told them all about my life. They knew about Kayden, completely aware I’d left him in other Allie and Heath’s responsibility, and the more I aged, the more I regretted that.

  Maria’s hand grabbed at my face. She tenderly stroked me. I eventually tore away from the screen and stared at them.

  My family. My second chance at life. My eternal happiness.

  And I smiled. A genuine, happy smile.

  He had become someone. He hadn’t strayed. He hadn’t fucked up. Kayden had become somebody. And in that moment, I wanted to scream my love for Heath and Allie. I wanted to applaud them for giving him the life he needed when I couldn’t be the one to do it.

  Maybe he will find you one day, I thought to myself. Just maybe…

  Reaper had been right all along, I quickly came to realize. There was good left in this world, and I was a part of it now.

  With a slow nod, I turned to my son and said, “Yeah, Luke, he is.”

  THE END.

  Thank you

  Thank you for reading the follow up of Loving Lawson!

  Once again, my love goes out to every single person that has taken the time to read my stories! I appreciate it deeply, and I am beyond grateful that anyone even bothers!

  Thank you to Charity for the amazing cover, and a major thank you to Sunshine, Pam, and Chandra for your pimping! I appreciate it so very much :) Thank you to every blog that has contacted me throughout this amazing experience and for the countless readers who have taken the time to message me, leave a review, or just plain support me. <3

  I have a story well along the way for Marko (Alek). A sneak peak is just a page away. My next major project is releasing Ashes (third book of the Ignite series).

  For news of my upcoming releases, you can follow me on:

  https://www.facebook.com/rj.lewis13

  Thank you,

  RJ

  Sneak Peak

  Isla

  His hand clasped over my mouth as he pushed me roughly against the wall of the bathroom. The harsh, cold tiles made my almost bare back stiffen. Unable to make a sound, he brought his other hand beneath my dress. I felt his rough skin trail up my inner thigh before his thumb stroked the edge of my panties.

  His chest pressed against me and I felt his hot frantic breaths against my face. My eyes were closed and my head swam with the scent of him all around me. My heart pounded faster and faster, as if it were trying to break free of its confines and run far away from here.

  I didn’t blame it for trying.

  “Open your fucking eyes,” he ground out harshly. “Do it, Isla.”

  I opened them and looked straight into his wicked grey eyes. The second they connected, he brought his hand down and crashed his mouth against mine. I cried out between his lips as he stroked my tongue with his. My entire body warmed instantly at the intimate feel of his tongue, pressing lovingly against mine. He groaned quietly and I nearly went limp against him when he stroked my core over my panties.

  “Already wet,” he murmured. “You want this, don’t you?”

  I didn’t reply, but I shook against him. This was wrong, yet my body burned for his touch. He kissed me desperately, as though he never would have his fill of me again. It should have frightened me, but I was too drunk on the taste of him to care.

  I heard him unbuckling his dress pants. When the zipper went down, he grabbed me by the thighs and lifted me off the floor. I instantly wrapped my legs around him as he shifted closer to me, until his chest was pressed against mine. I moaned when he rubbed me before pushing my panties aside entirely.

  “Look at me,” he demanded angrily.

  I did. I watched the heat in his gaze, the way his lips were swollen from our kiss, at how close his straight nose was to mine.

  “Tell me you want it.”

  “I want it,” I whispered without hesitation.

  “How long have you wanted it?”

  I swallowed hard, darting my eyes away from his for a moment. His fingers grabbed at my chin. They dug in as he turned my face back to him so that my eyes had no choice but to stare into the bottomless, cold depths of his.

  “Answer,” he growled.

  “A long time,” I managed out.

  He took my mouth with his again, but we barely moved our lips. We panted heavily, exchanging breaths as he touched the tip of his length against my entrance. The anticipation was brutal, and he loved watching the way my face broke for him. I ached to be filled, but only by him. And he knew this. His lips pulled up into a knowing smirk as he slowly roamed my folds, moving his hips back and forth so that the tip of him created fiction against my clit. My mouth widened against his and I was breathless for a long moment, trying to focus only on the sensations he was creating.

  His eyes never left my face. They looked over inch of it, half hooded and lust filled, but also with a sense of wonder. I knew he liked what he was doing, how it had stripped me into the mess that I was now. He craved control, even if it meant manipulating those that cared for him the most.

  Like me.

  When he finall
y began to move inside of me, my whole body tensed. His face dropped to my neck, sucking my skin softly as he slowly continued to push his way into my channel. Light pain shot up, and I tightened my legs around him, uncaring of the heels that might be digging into his back.

  “Fuuuck, you’re always so tight,” he whispered in disbelief.

  He pulled all the way out and then back in, until that pain went away entirely. Pleasure filled its place, warming me up from the inside and out. I dropped my head back against the wall and moaned loudly into the quiet air.

  “Shhh,” he rasped against my neck. “We have guests, kitten.”

  I pressed my lips down hard and wrapped my hands around his neck. My fingers found his hair and tugged harshly as he moved faster inside me.

  He cursed, capturing me yet again with a desperate kiss that made my tongue his possession. He sucked on it as his hands went around my ass. He went harder inside of me, breathing heavily as his mouth opened up. He was suppressing his own sounds. I knew him well enough to know he was never a quiet lover.

  “Whose slut are you?” he demanded, glaring at me.

  “Yours,” I whimpered.

  “Yeah,” he nodded, licking along my lips. “You’re my slut, kitten.”

  I don’t know how loud we were, but right there in that moment I thought anyone on the other side of the world could hear me getting fucked against the bathroom wall of our crowded home. Was the door even locked?

  He’d slow every now and then, and move in and out so he could watch my face. His eyes roamed it, and I didn’t care that he saw my pleasure after everything. He swallowed my moans with his kisses, rubbed my clit tenderly the way he knew I liked, and then he quickened the pace again. Going harder, faster, painfully pushing his tip as far into me as he could go.

  I was being punished. After everything I’d done to him, this was his way of getting back at me. He loathed me.

  He loved me too. I hoped.

  “Alek,” I whimpered in an unusually high voice as the crest of pleasure sought its way through me. He swallowed my moan again, watching me closely as I shut my eyes and rode the wave of ecstasy.

  “Fuck, Isla,” he panted before stilling entirely. “Fuck!” I felt his length jerk inside of me, and he buried his face into my chest and endured his own moment of pleasure.

  It was quiet after. He held me for a while, until our chests stopped heaving and our breathing returned to normal. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking. I wanted to look into those startling bright eyes and tell him that I loved him. But my brain was mute and my mouth formed no words.

  Finally, he pulled out of me and set me down on the floor. Without looking at me, he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped them up. I grabbed some toilet paper and wiped the remnants of him in between my thighs and flushed it down the toilet. Then I fixed myself up, looking at my reflection in the mirror in the process. I looked dishevelled. My dirty blonde hair was askew, my lips puffy, and my brown eyes swollen from tears he was responsible for moments before he took me.

  I panicked when he began to turn to the door. I grabbed him by the arm and he stiffened before he turned back to me. I dropped my hand instantly when those frosty, uninviting eyes darted my way.

  “Alek,” I said. I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t want him to go.

  “Remember what we just did,” he grimly said to me, “because that’s the last fucking time I ever lay a finger on you, Isla. So consider it your going away present.”

  My mouth dropped and my heart started pounding again. The pain in my chest was unbearable. I glared at him as tears formed and fell down my cheeks.

  “I hate you,” I spat out, clenching my hands into fists.

  He smirked wickedly at me and leaned forward so that his face was level to mine. “Not as much as I hate you, kitten. I hope you fail at school. I hope your friends betray you. I hope you get your heart broken by the next fucker you give your soul to. I hope you suffer and hurt every single fucking day, until you can barely sleep, until you can barely eat, until the days are meaningless and you feel nothing but hate for yourself in that cruel little heart of yours. That’s what you deserve for being the little betraying bitch that you are.”

  He brushed his lips against mine for half a second, taking in my speechless face before saying, “Goodbye, Isla.”

  I watched him turn and walk out, taking his time to shut the door as if he didn’t mind that someone might catch us. The second it shut, I took a step forward and locked it. Then I turned back to the mirror and watched myself cry.

  I hated him.

  I hated Alek Brankov with everything inside of me.

  I was also irrevocably, undeniably in love with him too.

  Yeah, I repeated to myself for the hundredth time in a row, I’m in love with my step-brother.

  End of sneak peak