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“We’re not strangers, Linc. And I know why you did what you did. I know you were trying to keep me safe. To keep my mom safe. It’s just… hard. My mind is still catching up to what my heart knows, and I—goddammit, I was so fucking mad at you.”
He makes another noise that’s almost a growl, and the next thing I know, he’s pulling me onto his lap. My legs end up straddling him, knees on either side of his waist, and I hardly know how I ended up here, but it’s easier to breathe, easier to think when I can feel the firm lines of his body beneath mine.
His hands settle on my lower back, just above the swell of my ass, and his eyes blaze like twin suns as he stares at me. I could swear the room around us is getting darker, but I think it’s just that Lincoln has eclipsed my vision, has literally blotted out every other thing.
“I need you to trust me, Low,” he murmurs. “I need you to know that no matter what I do, whether it makes sense to you or not, there’s a reason behind it. It’s to keep you safe.”
My palms find his chest, the movement automatic, unconscious. My fingers gather the soft fabric of his t-shirt in a tight grip as our gazes stay locked.
“And you need to trust me,” I shoot back.
The last bit of my anger flares, and I press my mouth to his, hard, biting his bottom lip before pulling away. His body stiffens beneath me, and his grip on my hips tightens. Both of us are breathing faster, our bodies beginning to work against each other.
“I need you to trust me enough to tell me what the fuck you’re thinking,” I continue, nipping at his lips again. “Even if you know it’s gonna piss me off. Even if you think it will hurt me. No more fucking secrets, Linc.” I jerk my head toward the door the others vanished through, bracing my arms on his shoulders as I rock against him. “Those three trust you without question, and I want to give you that too. But the only way it’ll be possible is if I know you’re not playing me.”
“No more secrets. I promise.”
The words are a low rasp. The second they’re out of his mouth, his lips claim mine, and he stops letting me dictate the terms of our kiss. His tongue delves into my mouth, and he slides his hands down to my ass, hiking me tighter against him, grinding my clit against his thickening cock.
Our teeth clash, and he’s biting at my lips too, like both of us are still working out some residual anger toward the other person—or the world in general. I can’t catch my breath, and my heart is thrumming so hard and fast in my chest I can’t make out the individual beats anymore.
It’s almost painful, and I wonder fleetingly if this is what heartache feels like. If this is what it’s like to want someone and be terrified of how much you want them.
My hands slip under Lincoln’s shirt, tracing patterns over the smooth, hot skin of his chest and abs.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he groans into my mouth, thrusting his hips up harder against me, his large hands kneading and massaging my ass through my long sweater.
“It’s only been a week,” I mutter under my breath, although I’m still pawing at him possessively, my eyelids half shut and my core clenching.
Without warning, one of his hands leaves my ass, moving up to grab a fistful of my hair close to the roots. When he tugs my head back, breaking the contact of our lips, it doesn’t hurt, exactly, but the slight sting in my scalp makes a jolt of sensation rocket through me.
“Uh uh, Low.” Our faces are so close together our noses almost brush as he shakes his head, amber eyes burning. “There is no only between us. Ever. When we’re talking about how long it’s been since I’ve been inside you, that word doesn’t exist.”
Oh shit.
His proclamation and the desperate, demanding tone of his voice make me wriggle against his tight grip, straining toward him so hard that the pull against my scalp really does hurt.
When he finally releases his hold on me, I kiss him like I’m trying to consume him alive, grabbing his face with both hands to give myself the perfect angle, dipping my tongue into his mouth over and over.
My body is like an inferno, burning so hot I’m certain my clothes are about to catch fire.
They don’t.
But they do get destroyed.
Lincoln’s hands shove my long sweater up and out of the way, and the next thing I know, he’s found the waistband of my leggings. With a violent rip, he shreds them down the middle seam, and when I let out a surprised yelp, his answering smile is hungry and feral. He pulls the two pieces apart even farther before eviscerating the delicate lace of my panties.
Jesus. I either need to get sturdier underwear or stop wearing them altogether.
Before I can give Linc shit for destroying yet another pair of my panties, his fingers find my clit
, and I forget how to speak. He sits up straighter in the large chair, his hand wedged into the small space between us as he massages me in tight, fast circles. There’s a look of intense, almost angry concentration on his face, like he’s trying to show me—show my body—how much it needs him.
“Oh… fuck,” I whimper, biting my bottom lip as my toes curl and my muscles shake.
I start to drop my head, but his free hand moves up to grab my chin, holding it in a tight grip so he can watch my face as he makes me come. His gaze catches mine, and I can’t look away, not even when the pleasure peaks and sweet agony rolls through me like a wave.
He sees it. All of it.
