“We’ll be there,” Lincoln tells him.
They whisper back and forth, and I’m curious, but don’t push. It’s something I’m still learning, the dynamics between siblings.
“I’ll see you later,” Graham says with a little wave and then disappears.
Lincoln stalks across the floor to me, stopping right in front of me. “Want to come inspect my work?”
“I’d like to inspect you,” I tease.
He takes my hand and leads me down the hall and into our bedroom. Boxes are still stacked everywhere and our bed is a mess because we can’t stay out of it. It’s perfect.
He sets the screwdriver on the floor and stands, looking at me wickedly. He holds up a can of squirt cheese.
“What are you doing?” I laugh.
“You like this stuff?”
“No. It’s fake cheese, Landry.”
“I never knew this existed until yesterday when Huxley threw it in the cart at the store.” He squirts some into his mouth and grins. “See? It’s great.”
“Your abs are great,” I say, running my finger down the bumps lining his stomach. They tighten as I stroke them.
“Want to lick cheese off them?”
“No,” I laugh.
“Come on. You know you want to. It’s okay.”
“Cheese isn’t sexy, Landry.”
“This isn’t technically cheese. It’s fake cheese.”
“Same thing.”
He backs me up until my knees hit the back of the bed and I collapse on the mattress. “Fine,” he says, reaching down and pulling his Wrecked tour t-shirt up. “But I like it and can eat all I want now that I’m not training for baseball.”
“Don’t get anything on this,” I gasp. “Stone Lockhart touched this. Breathed on it. Maybe his sweat touched it.”
“I’ve washed it a thousand times, Dani. Don’t get all sentimental.”
“Let’s not risk it. He’s so gorgeous. I might just live in this t-shirt forever.”
“First, you’re going to grow out of it soon. Second, what about my Arrows jerseys? Don’t you want to get all sentimental about those?”
I sigh and flutter my eyelashes. “When I saw him live in Nashville, I swear to you Stone looked right at me. Right at me, Landry.”
“You and your damned rock stars.”
Before I know it, I’m in a fit of giggles as he sprays a line of fake cheese down my stomach. He bends down and his tongue strokes my skin from just under my swollen breasts to right above my navel. He pauses, looking at me and I at him. We exchange a sweet smile and he presses a kiss to my belly.
“One down. Nine to go,” he whispers.
“Let’s get through the first one before we go counting more,” I giggle.
“You’re the one that wanted ten kids. I’m just giving you what you want. And,” he says, his fingers working against the button of my jeans, “I can’t keep my fucking hands off you.”
I lift my hips so he can slide them down. Once they’re on the floor, he hovers over me.
“Whatcha doing, Landry?”
“Gearing up to hit a homerun.”
And he does.
The End
Switch, Graham Landry’s book, will be coming in 2017.
Add it to your Goodreads shelf HERE
USA TODAY AND AMAZON TOP 10 Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.
She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather’s nice and there’s always a piece of candy in her pocket.
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Continue on for an excerpt from Wherever It Leads,
also by Adriana Locke.
Fenton
"TELL HIM I GOT HIS message yesterday and I don't need him to blow me. But thank him for the offer."
Grabbing the nearest shopping cart and sliding it in front of me, I toggle the phone against my shoulder. It nearly slides off my rigid muscles, a mix of workout fatigue and work stress setting up shop across my back.
Duke sighs through the phone, not even pretending to hide his frustration. "Fenton, that's not true," he says, exasperation thick in his voice. "He didn't ask to blow you."
"Obviously it's not fucking true. I just want to hear him have to deny it."
"You know what? Just forget I called. I'll come up with a response myself."
"That's probably the best idea you've had yet."
Duke sighs again, louder this time. I'm sure I've been an asshole to deal with since I hired him, but I gave him plenty of warning what he was getting into. This entire situation, the one he was hired to deal with, has been a complete clusterfuck from the start. There's nothing more vexing than being able to fix a problem and having your hands tied behind your back while being needled that the problem exists. I know it exists. I'm keenly aware and no one wants it fixed more than me.
"I'll just tell them the status hasn't changed."
"I could've taken care of this," I bite out.
"I know. I know."
"And they wouldn't let me."
"I. Know."
"I know you know. Try to impart some of that knowledge to them. I'm playing by their rules right now, but I’m starting to lose patience with their—”
"Fenton, you have to play by their rules. Otherwise—"
"I'm heading into the store," I interrupt. "The service is going to get shitty."
"Talk soon," Duke says, ready to end the conversation anyway, and the line clicks off. I shove my phone into the pocket of my black athletic pants. My jaw pulses, the buzz from this morning's workout now vanished.
Ignoring the eyes of an uptight man perusing the apples, I skirt my cart left to avoid interaction. I have no idea why I chose today of all days to do my own grocery shopping. I could’ve waited three damn days until my housekeeper gets back from vacation.
Steering clear of the apples and the negative energy rolling off the shopper, I head towards the bananas. I need to find the optimism I had five minutes ago before Duke called from the office and ruined my Saturday morning.