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Chapter 15
Grace woke with her face smashed against Lincoln’s wall-like chest and both his muscular arm and leg pinning her to the bed. His shirt was abominably wrinkled, and his body moved in the heavy, deep rhythm of sleep. He slept the way he did everything else, with a single-minded drive and determination.
She wiggled her way out from underneath his bulk. Despite the mind-blowing pleasure of the previous night, she hadn’t slept all that well. She wasn’t accustomed to having a man of his size—well, a man of any size, but especiallyhim—in her bed.
After using the bathroom, she pulled on a robe and went out to check on the cat food. As she’d sadly expected, the bowl was full. She replaced the food and refreshed the water, then started making coffee, toast, and eggs.
Though she hadn’t experienced even a hint of nervousness with him last night, now her anxiety was making a comeback. She was unclear about where they were supposed to go from here—or rather, where he intended for them to go. Her body still hummed from his hot kisses and caresses, but she wanted more.
She wanted to touch him. She wanted to see him naked. She wanted him inside her. She wanted him to treat her gently, and she wanted the kind of sex he liked—hot, sweaty, and a bit dirty.
In other words, she wanted it all. The question was whether or not he’d give it to her.
If he didn’t…why not?She was practically throwing herself at him. In his male-oriented, fictional world, it would be a welcome situation—a woman offering temporary, no-strings sex, not to mention her virginity, with no expectations of a relationship.
Yet Lincoln was turning her down. Or was he? He’d said he wasn’t going to have sex with her, but did that mean just last night or never or—
A noise sounded behind her. She turned from the stove to find him in the kitchen doorway, looking rumpled and gorgeous with his hair all disheveled and his eyes warm. Her heart thumped.
“Morning.” His low, rumbling voice roused her blood, like a key turning on an engine.
“M-morning.” She tightened her grip on the spatula and gestured to the pan. “I was just cooking eggs. I get them from a local farm, cage-free and organic. I’m scrambling them. I hope you like scrambled eggs.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “I like scrambled eggs.”
“I can fry them, if you prefer.”
“No need.” He crossed the room, his stride slow and predatory, his gaze pinning her to the spot.
Grace’s breath shortened. He stopped and lifted his hand, cupping his thumb under her chin and spreading his fingers over her cheek in a hold so secure and possessive that her whole body weakened.
He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. Warmth flooded her. He gently urged her mouth open so he could delve his tongue inside for a thorough, hot kiss.
She curled her fingers into his shirt and let out a little mewl of pleasure. Her desire for him came roaring back to life. The spatula dropped to the floor.
He lifted his head reluctantly. His dark golden eyes searched her face. He skimmed his finger over her lower lip and slowly eased away from her.
“Don’t want to burn the eggs.” He bent to retrieve the spatula.
“Oh. No. Of course not.” She grabbed a clean spatula from a drawer and turned back to the stove. Her cheeks were hot. Even if she hadn’t made her urge for him quite clear, her body betrayed her need when she was just close to him.
He moved around the kitchen, taking out plates, buttering toast, pouring coffee. By the time they were seated at the table with their food, Grace had worked up the courage to address the unspoken issue.
“So where do we go from here?” She poked at the eggs with her fork.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Grace, I meant what I said.” He leaned forward, fixing his gaze on hers. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the diner. Whenever I’m around you, I want to touch you…hell, last night was only a sample of the things I want to do with you. But I’m not the right guy for you, even temporarily.”
She frowned, deflecting a surge of hurt. “I can make that decision for myself. In fact, I already have.”
He made a noise of impatience and sat back. “You should want more than what I can offer you, which isn’t much.”
“Lincoln, don’t tell me what Ishouldwant.” She pushed her plate away. “I already know. That’s why I’ve made the choices I have…because I know myself. I know what’s right for me. And I wouldn’t have asked this of you if I expected you to offer me anything more.”
His mouth compressed into a line. “You really just want me to give you a few weeks of sex lessons?”
A flush swept up her cheeks. “I’d rather think of it as a short-term affair, after which we can go our separate ways. Honestly, I’m failing to see why you’re resisting the idea at all. What was last night anyway?”
