The Landry Family Series: Part Two

by Adriana Locke

  “And you’re still seeing him?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question?”

  He roughs his hands through his picture-perfect hair, mussing it all up. He looks around the kitchen like he’s trying to find a way to talk sense into me or something equally as dramatic. I would laugh if we weren’t discussing this particular topic.

  “Cam,” he begins, “I’m a reasonable person. It may not seem like it right now, but I am. That being said, do you have any idea what this is going to do to Barrett?”

  “I know he doesn’t like Nolan and I get it. But—”

  “Doesn’t like Nolan?” he says incredulously. “That man tried to ruin Barrett’s career. He almost got Alison assaulted, do you remember that? Nolan almost destroyed Barrett’s … everything … and here you are—”

  “Here I am what?” I power back. “Maybe falling in love with someone that had an asshole of a father that was brothers with another asshole? How is that Dominic’s fault, G?”

  “How are you going to explain this to Barrett?”

  “You were aware that Paulina screwed Barrett and, most likely Ford, and you still slept with her. Nobody was worried about that. I’m not sure why we all care who I’m fucking.”

  His eyes narrow, his knuckles turning white. He’s ready to fire back at me, but I don’t give him the chance.

  “You need to be a little less worried about what I’m doing and more about what you are. I talked to Mallory today. You do realize you’re on the verge of messing that all up, right? Or we’re not allowed to talk about that? Just who I’m sleeping with?”

  The flinch is obvious, his hand dropping from the chair.

  “Yes, Graham, I do know that he’s Nolan’s nephew. I also know how genetics work and that you don’t get to pick who you’re related to. If that were the case, I would opt out of sharing any DNA with you right now.”

  He takes that hit, tugging at the collar of his white button-down shirt. His cufflinks twinkle in the light cast from the chandelier over his head. There are lines on his face I haven’t noticed before—deep, worrisome etches in his skin. If I wasn’t so mad at him, I’d ask him how he was feeling. But I don’t because I am still angry.

  “I also know about the loan,” he states.

  “Good for you.”

  “Cam, please tell me you understand why this is concerning. Please tell me you haven’t lost all of your mind.”

  “I get it. I’m not stupid. It’s a lot of money to be loaning someone that looks like he … what did you say? Walked out of prison? Something like that?”

  Looking at the ceiling, he sighs.

  “What is this, Graham? Is this about the money? About social status? Did it offend you somehow that Mom’s friends saw me with someone not in a Brooks Brother’s suit? Did that somehow take down our Landry brand?”

  He shoots me a glare.

  “Because if that’s the case, if that’s what we’ve been relegated to, I’m not sure I fit in here anymore.”

  “Of course that’s not it,” he mutters. “I’m just … I’m trying to control what’s going on here.”

  “Let me give you a piece of advice for a change. Go home. Find Mallory. Worry about that relationship and not mine. Trust me when I tell you that your efforts will be much more appreciated and are much more necessary in your own house.”

  He shakes his head. “I take it you’re going to continue seeing him.”

  It’s not the words so much that pierce me. It’s more the tone, the dismissive nature of them that zip right through me like a hot knife.

  “Get out of my house.”

  He doesn’t move.

  “I’m not joking, Graham. Get out of my house now.”

  “Swink …”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head and feeling my hands start to tremble. “Leave. You aren’t welcome here.”

  He holds my gaze before turning to go. He gets to the door and yanks it open. When he turns, I see fire in his eyes. “When you wise up, you know where to find me to get you out of whatever mess he gets you in.”

  The door closes. I wait a few seconds to make sure he’s gone before bursting into tears.

  Eighteen

  Dominic

  The house is quiet. Nate is at the bar and Chrissy came by and took Ryder a little while ago. It’s just me, a beer that is the temperature of piss, and a muted television.

  Everything hurts. My body. My head. My heart. It all aches like a motherfucker.

  My legs stretch in front of me as I sit on the sofa, my eyes watching but not seeing the talking head on the news. There’s some story on about a family that had something tragic happen but are now all smiles, holding hands, all that shit. Shit I’ve never had.

  Shit I’ll never have.

  Not the way I want it.

  I’m tired. The thought of getting up in the morning and going to work and then to the gym and then home to this, makes me want to close my eyes and just sleep. There’s no point to it. No point to any of it.

  Yesterday was supposed to be a way to make some inroads with the Landry’s. I figured it was probably for naught and that’s why I refused for so long.

  Then things changed.

  I don’t know when it happened, but it did. She became not just a girl I was fucking but someone I looked forward to seeing at the end of the day. I made sure there was sorbet, something I didn’t even know existed before her, in my freezer. It was her voice I wanted to hear before I laid down.

  Cam makes me feel things I haven’t felt before. Give a fuck about things I didn’t know I could care about. Like the fact that she made it home at the end of the night or had enough cold medicine when she wasn’t feeling good.

  When things got to this point, I don’t know. But when she asked me to meet her brother and I could see that it mattered to her … I felt like I mattered to her.

  That’s why they say feelings are dangerous. They take a quick fuck and turn it into visions of something a year, two years, ten years later. The shit that’s on the television right now.

  I click it off and down the rest of the lukewarm brew.

  My eyes start to close when a knock at the door brings them open. Wincing as I get to my feet, I set the bottle down and get to the entry. Looking through the hole, my heart almost stops beating.

  I can’t get it open fast enough.

  Her face is streaked with mascara, her beautiful sky-blue eyes watery and puffy. It takes one look, not even a question, before she lunges forward and wraps her arms around my waist.

  “What the hell happened to you?” I ask, pulling her inside and shutting the door. My heart thunders in my chest as I try to see her face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She nuzzles against me, her words muffled by my shirt.

  Scooping her up, her legs hanging off one of my arms as my other cradles her back, I carry her to the sofa. As I sit, I place her on my lap. “Okay. What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

  She takes a deep breath and it shakes as she comes down from the crying high. A quick, easy smile that touches her eyes settles some of my nerves. “I don’t want to talk about it, Dom.”

  “I really don’t care if you want to talk about it,” I laugh. “We’re going to talk about it.” Gathering her hair and twisting it together, I place it over one shoulder. “Tell me. Did I do something? I mean, I probably did, but …”

  “It wasn’t you.”

  My features fall. This changes things. “Okay. Who did?”

  “Graham,” she whispers.

  “Your brother? He made you cry?”

  “Yes.”

  I move in my seat, finding it impossible to get comfortable. She tries to climb off my lap, but I keep her in place. I need her here. With me. On me.

  “I threw Graham out of my house,” she says quietly without looking at me.

  “Why?”

  Her shoulders rise and fall. “He just … he was being irrational.”

  I watch her face. There’s a sorrow ther
e that burns me to the core, and suddenly, I get it. “It was because of me.”

  “Dom …” she pleads.

  I’m right. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing. Just that he’d talked to Ford and Lincoln and either put it together or someone told him, I don’t know, but he found out you’re Nolan’s nephew.”

  “Of course he did,” I mutter, feeling my head begin to pound. “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?” She tries to cup my face with her hands, but I shake them away. “Dom, listen to me, it’s not your fault.”

  “I know it isn’t my fault I’m related to Nolan. Clearly. But I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

  Lifting her off my lap, I stand up and head to the center of the room. Pacing a circle, I feel my soul start to splinter.

  “I told him to leave,” she says, a tear trickling down her cheek. “I told him I won’t put up with it.”

  “But he’s right.”

  “About what?”

  “About everything he said,” I admit, feeling my spirit begin to wane. “And everything he might not have.”

  She gets to her feet, both cheeks now damp. “He’s not right. About any of it,” she sniffles. “You’ve been telling me to stand up for myself and think for myself, Dominic.”

  “I have. But, Cam, this isn’t a fight you have to take, babe,” I sigh. “This is your family. Yes, you need boundaries with them. Yes, you need to tell them to mind their own business and you need to step out of their shadow and show them who you really are and what you’re capable of. But, Cam …” I shake my head. “That’s your family.”

  “I thought you hated my brothers.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think about them. You need them. You can’t let some asshole like me get in between you.”

  “I need them?” she asks, her brows lifted. “You know what I need, Dominic?”

  My breath still in my chest, my hands nearly shaking at my sides. I wait for her next words, unable to look away.

  “I need you,” she whispers.

  With those three little words, she takes the few steps between us and wraps her arms around my waist. I hold her tight, squeezing her against me for dear life as I struggle to maintain enough oxygen flow to stay cognizant.

  No one has needed me before. Not in the way she just looked at me. Women have needed me for an orgasm or a safety net or something to do on a Friday night. There’s never been a female that’s looked at me, the me under the ink and the game, and said they wanted that.

  There aren’t words available to give her because I’m not sure what to say to that. My mouth feels dry, cottony, but there’s a warmth flooding me that I’d prefer stick around a while.

  Cam melts into my chest, her fingers pressing against my back as she clings on as if she’s afraid I’ll reject her. That’s my fault too.

  “I won’t come between you and your brothers,” I say, stroking the back of her head. “You can’t let a guy like me ruin that.”

  “A guy like you?” She pulls back so I can see her face. “I just defended you to the smartest man I know—no offense.”

  “None taken, I don’t think. Well, maybe not.”

  She grins. “You’re definitely the hottest.”

  “That makes me feel a little better.”

  “And the sexiest.”

  “That also helps,” I smile.

  “And the sweetest.”

  “That’s a lie,” I laugh, watching her gorgeous smile reflect back at me.

  She lifts a hand and touches my cheek. “You’re not going to come between me and my brothers. They might be mad and throw a fit, but if they want to act like children, that’s their wives’ problem. Not mine.”

  “The last thing I want to do is cause you any problems. I look at you and think all I’ll ever be able to do is fuck you up, and I’d kill myself before I let that happen.”

  “I know,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “That’s why I trust you.”

  “Tell me one thing,” I say. “Did Graham hurt you?”

  “Just my feelings. And not even really those. But I might’ve hurt his,” she says, pondering my question. “I wonder how he’ll feel about that in the morning?”

  Chuckling, I scoop her up as she yelps and head down the hallway. “If you want me to do a little meet-and-greet with Graham, now’s the time to tell me,” I say, kicking the door to my bedroom open. “You have about twenty seconds and then I’m going to make sure neither of us thinks about him again for a very, very long time.”

  Her arms around my neck, she beams. “Who are you talking about?”

  Tossing her on the bed, I’m on top of her before she can react.

  Nineteen

  Camilla

  I tip my face up to meet his stare. The teasing smirk drifts away, and in its place, a soft, sweet gaze moves in. Where his playfulness sends an ache through my core, this side of him melts it.

  My hands rest on the back of his neck, the heat of his skin radiating through my palms. I work my fingers into the ends of his hair and then up higher, playing with the messy strands that have, undoubtedly, had his own hands in them not too long ago.

  He looks down at me like he’s never seen me before. Like if he takes his eyes off me, I might disappear.

  “Dom,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, sweetheart?”

  “I meant what I said.”

  He knows what I mean. I see the shock blitz across his features before he lets it go. “That you hurt your brother’s feelings?”

  Mocking the look on his face, I let my knees fall to the sides. He misses no opportunity to occupy the space between us.

  “No,” I say. “I meant it when I said I needed you.”

  His eyes search mine, watching for a sign that I’m kidding. He should know I’m not. Not about this.

  Pressing his rock-hard length against the inside of my thigh, he grins. “You need this?”

  “I do,” I admit, shifting myself so his sweatpants-covered cock is rubbing along my yoga pants-covered vagina. “But I also need this,” I say, tapping lightly against his temple. “And this.” I lay my palm flat against his chest.

  My heart is racing and I know he can hear it. That or at least the way my breath is almost stuttering as I struggle to stay composed long enough to hear his reaction. It’s a gamble to say this, I know, but I’ve played a lot of proverbial poker lately. May as well play one more hand.

  “I just want you to know how I feel, in case there was any doubt,” I say. “You—”

  His lips fall to mine, halting the rest of my words. There’s a tenderness to the kiss, an almost reverence, that has me closing my eyes and letting him lead me wherever he chooses.

  Our tongues lap and swirl against one another, the heat of his body sending my own into the stratosphere. His hand lifts the hem of my shirt and pulls down my bra cup, palming my breast with his calloused hand.

  When he pulls back, his short, sharp breaths matching my own, he stares at me with a look I can’t quite place.

  “If anyone ever hurts you, physically or otherwise, whether that’s me or someone else, I’ll stop it,” he promises. “All you have to do is tell me. You know that, right?”

  “Of course I know that.”

  He forces a swallow. “I don’t know what to do with you and I don’t know what to do without you. It fucks with me, Cam.”

  “Well,” I say despite a sandpapery throat. “I know what you can do with me.”

  “Oh, I can do that,” he grins wickedly. “That’s never a problem.”

  “Then what’s stopping you?”

  I watch as he strips himself of his shirt, an inch of chiseled perfection visible at a time. His chest is dotted with various tattoos, some he’ll talk about and some he won’t. The broadness of his shoulders is my favorite part of his whole body. Layers of intricate muscle placed in perfect symmetry, descending on one side to the absurdly sexy stomach, and on the other, a back that was built to perfection. />
  He hops off the bed, his eyes still on me, as he slips off his sweatpants. They fall down his powerful legs before he kicks them off and stands completely naked in front of me.

  My legs clench together at the sight of him, the throb strumming into a pace that I almost can’t manage.

  “I’m going to give you a tip,” I say.

  “I thought I was giving you the tip?”

  My giggle makes him grin. “You better be planning on giving me more than the tip, Hughes.”

  “Oh, baby. You’re going to get it all.”

  “Good. Now that’s settled, back to the other tip.” I study his handsome face. “If we ever get in a fight, which I’m sure we will, all you have to do to fix it is get naked. I can think of nothing else when you are standing there like that.”

  “Noted.”

  He crawls back on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. His thumbs hook into the waistband of my pants and he yanks them down my legs and casts them to the side. His gaze falls on my panty-less state as his tongue darts to his lips, leaving a glistening trail along the ridge of his mouth.

  I sit up and have my shirt and bra discarded in a matter of seconds. My chest heaving, my body begging, I fall back to the pillows, letting my legs fall to the sides, and wait for him.

  “If you ever want to distract me, lie in my bed like that,” he groans, his cock in his hand as he takes in the sight of me. “There’s nothing more beautiful than you, naked, in my fucking bed.”

  I only close my eyes for a half a second when they fly back open to the most glorious feeling in the world. Looking down, his face positioned between my legs, he grins before sliding his tongue straight up the center of my pussy.

  “Oh, shit,” I moan, feeling him part me with his mouth. “God, Dom.”

  His teeth bite lightly on my clit, making me shudder. I grasp wildly until my hands are buried in his hair, tugging as bolts of sensations rip through me.

  “You like that?” he asks, his lips moving against the sensitive flesh. He licks through my middle again.

  “Yes,” I moan, throwing my head back into the pillow.