AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Past me calls myself a liar when the memory of The Garage flashes before my mind’s eye. And yes, I’ve now taken to referring to Silas fucking me like he would die if he didn’t as an event in my mind. Just thinking about the way he palmed my throat makes a slow flush roll over my nervous system. The man was most definitely grumpy that night, and before he turned it to shit with his callous remarks, it was decidedly one of the hottest moments in my life.
I pat the cushion next to me. “Want to join me?”
“Always.” He closes the door and crosses the cement patio in a few steps.
“I’ve thought about changing this, you know, making it my own.”
“What’s that, sugar?” he asks, settling next to me on the wicker loveseat Nana Jo loved.
Hunter and I were working on color theory and painting this set, but the rest is still at Silas’s house. I smooth my palm over the tropical-patterned cushions with fondness.
Lincoln extends his right arm along the back of the loveseat, widening his legs as he gets comfortable. I kind of hate how lowkey attractive I find that little move. But maybe I just find everything about him attractive.
I let my gaze dance along his body, follow his torso and up the corded muscles of his chest, trail over the sharp line of his jaw, and linger over his lips. The bottom one fuller than the top, and his five o’clock shadow looks more like a beard than I’ve ever seen him with. My gaze connects with his, the gray flecks in his dark brown eyes seem to dance with mirth as he holds my stare. My cheeks flush, but I’m not embarrassed to be caught, not really.
I bite the inside of my cheek and pull my gaze from my man. My boyfriend?
He feels like so much more than a boyfriend, but I don’t know what else to call him. Mine, I guess.
I incline my head toward the backyard. “This patio. I thought I might extend it, add a little pergola or something so I can spend more time out here during the day. Right now, the best time of day is during golden hour when the sun doesn’t feel like it’s trying its best to turn you into a kabob.”
His fingers toy with the ends of my hair, and I can feel his gaze on me. Everyone always says he’s so hard to read, but I don’t get it. He seems like an open book to me. Like right now, I can feel his quiet amusement.
“What’s stopping you?”
“I was thinking Nana Jo might actually have buried stuff in her backyard.”
He chuckles, this smooth low sound that floats around me and settles into my skin. “She was . . . eclectic.”
I roll my lips inward and look at him. “You’re thinking of her phallic vase collection, aren’t you?”
He slides his hand underneath my hair to palm the back of my neck with a laugh. “Well I am now.”
I lean into his touch, amusement making me feel weightless. “I think I’m going to get one of those metal detector things and use it in the backyard just to make sure she didn’t bury anything important. I’d hate for them to pour concrete over something that she buried. I’d never find it then.”
The pads of his fingertips press against my neck in a gentle sort of pulsing massage. “We’ll get one then, sugar.”
“I thought it would be something that Hunter and I could do together. I know he’d love it, ya know?” There’s a pang in my chest when I think about him too long. I’m sure there’s some trauma I need to work through from everything.
His fingers thread through the hair at the nape of my neck. “He’ll be home soon, sugar.”
I look at him across my shoulder through the watery haze of my eyes. “Are you sure he’s safe?”
His gaze roams my face, his mouth curved in a sympathetic sort of smile. “I promise you he is.”
I exhale audibly and look out into the backyard once more. “Good. That’s good. That’s what matters, right?” I reach over and snag my iced coffee from the little side table next to me, holding it up in a salute. “Thank you for this by the way.”
He lifts a brow. “How do you know it was me?”
I take a sip from the straw and smirk. “You’ve been handling my coffee needs since I got here, Lincoln. If you’re not bringing me daily coffee, then you’re paying for it at the coffee shop downtown.”
His fingers still on my scalp. “I didn’t pay for your coffee at the shop downtown.”
My brows crowd together over my eyes, and I lower my iced latte. “What?” I shake my head a little. “Of course you did, the guy behind the counter said you took care of it.”
He stares at me with the kind of intensity you see on a predator before he lunges at his prey. Not that I think I’m the prey here, but it sends a shiver of awareness down my spine all the same.
“Think, sugar. What did the barista say exactly?”
