“Would you believe me if I said my ego needs to hear you say it.”
She laughed, her nose bobbing against his. “I think your ego is just fine, Lincoln.”
His sigh vibrated in her soul. “I love how you say my name. And with everyone else out there, sure.” He jerked a head to the door. “But with you? You make me feel…” His eyes swam with an emotion she couldn’t pinpoint.
“What do you feel?” Her breath caught around the shards of self-consciousness in her chest as she spoke. She stroked his cheek with her thumb, closing her eyes, as though it would somehow shield her feelings, keep them away from him.
“You make me feel like I want to be better, Cleo.”
Her eyes shot open and met his. “I… how? We barely spoke before the… shopping incident. Better than what? I don’t understand.”
“Honestly? I thought you were way out of my league. You’re smart, funny, you radiate a confidence that says ‘don’t fuck with me, I have my shit all figured out’ and sure, it’s a little intimidating but it’s also hot as hell. I didn’t think I had anything to offer. Plus you were scowly as fuck.”
“And now?” She was no doctor but the amount of heart racing that had happened since Lincoln walked into her life was unnatural – and perhaps going to cause her untimely demise.
“And now I still think you’re this incredible, beautiful woman and I’m just hoping you can see past my irritating jock-ness to something deeper, something we can maybe build on. Your turn. You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Qué quieres?”
“You said you didn’t know Spanish.”
“Qué quieres, preciosa?”
Her cheeks flared with heat. Embarrassment, desire, and proximity to him had her body screaming at her to act. “You, Lincoln. I want you.” She trailed her fingertips along his jaw and into his hair. “I’m just not sure how. It’s not that I’ve never…” She closed her eyes.
“Open your eyes, Cleo. Don’t hide from me.” Concern radiated from his gaze when her eyelids flickered open. “This is new for both of us, we can figure it out together, but not if you keep closing your eyes or burying your head in my chest every time we hit on something uncomfortable. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the head on the chest thing, but I can’t see your eyes and you have such pretty freakin’ eyes that say so much.”
“What do they say?”
“Right now…” He cupped her face. “They’re saying you’re scared to let me in. But we both know you did that the day you answered my text. I’m in, Cleo.”
She rolled forward onto her tiptoes and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. He turned and met her lips with his, returning her kiss, slowly at first, his hands snaking around her waist and travelling up her back until his palms lay flat against her shoulder blades. “Lincoln…” Their kiss turned from sweet to heat in an instant. Her hands slipped from the sides of his face onto his shoulders, where she curled her fingers into his shirt and dragged her nails down his chest. She was in, too. She had no idea how things would work between them, but the aching between her thighs, and pounding of her heart, demanded she try.
A low growl rattled in his chest and she nipped at his bottom lip before stepping back to catch her breath. She tucked her hair behind her ear, took his hand in hers, and led the way through the house.
Her body was on fire. Her inner demons were yelling that a girl like her had no business being naked with a guy like Lincoln, but she pressed down the self-deprecation. It was his choice to make as much as hers, and he’d made it.
She sucked in a cleansing breath and pushed open the door to her bedroom.
Chapter 17
Lincoln
Even from three feet away with her back turned to him, her discomfort was obvious. The way she held her body, shoulders curled forward, head down, arms wrapped around her middle… it ripped at his heart.
What could have happened to her that was so bad she didn’t want him to see her body? Who had made her feel so awful about how she looked that even after he’d told her she was beautiful, she wanted to hide?
He couldn’t stay three feet away, he needed her in his arms. He needed to do whatever he could to convince the vibrant, strong, and incredible woman who was tangled in her own self-perceptions, that she was everything. If that meant cuddling on the bed until day break while his raging boner pressed against the seam of his jeans, he’d do it.
He closed the space, slid his arms along hers, and pulled her back against his chest. Her muscles were tense and rigid. “I know I said it already but we really don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
She nodded against his chest. “I know.” She turned to face him. “I just need to get out of my own head.”
“That can be hard to do.”
“You say that like you understand.” Her quiet voice shook as she spoke.
