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He’d thrown that out so casually. Like we weren’t on date number two of this whole thing, andjust nowgetting to know each other.
I wasn’t going to think about the future like that. Not happening.
Although, staring around the room, I knew my little apartment would look even more sorry tonight.
My mother’s face flashed in my head for a moment, the happiness she’d had when she thought she’d found a man who wanted to take care of her.
That memory was followed by her lying in a pool of her own vomit.
“Hey.” Lincoln’s voice broke through my thoughts. He tilted my chin up, and his honey gaze searched mine. “What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing important,” I sighed, forcing a smile.
He stared at me persistently, as if the weight of his gaze could cause me to spill my dark thoughts.
And evidently, it could.
“Just the past sneaking in," I found myself admitting.
He nodded, as if once again he completely understood me, and then he grabbed my hand and led me out of the kitchen, down another hallway, and into the living room.
If I thought the kitchen was nice, Lincoln’s living room was a masterpiece of sleek modern design, with polished marble floors. The furniture was all low-slung and contemporary, with plush cream-colored sofas and chairs arranged in intimate clusters around low glass coffee tables. Large, abstract paintings hung on the walls, splashes of color against the stark white backdrop.
In the center of the room stood a massive glass fireplace. Lincoln pressed a button in the wall and immediately there were flames dancing within. The room was a mecca for natural light from the floor-to-ceiling windows, offering breathtaking views of the city skyline. There were fancy art objects and sculptures here and there, each one obviously carefully curated to fit the room's aesthetic. The room even smelled good, like those high end stores where you walked in and immediately believed they’d bottled the scent of wealth.
A space that made you feel both small and insignificant at the same time. It was a living room fit for a king. And clearly, Lincoln fit right in.
I mouthed a breathless "Wow" at him, and he chuckled, sweeping his hand through his hair, the movement causing his inked muscles to ripple seductively.
“It’s a lot. I know. But I just let the designer do her thing.”
“Rich people,” I huffed, winking, so he knew I was kidding.
He led me through a maze of rooms, each more impressive than the last. The weight room was a sight to behold, with gleaming metal dumbbells and machines lining the walls, and a sauna nestled in one corner, steam rising from its wooden walls misting the glass door. His office was pristine, with not a single paper out of place, and the desk made of a rich, dark wood. The dining room was stunning, with a long, polished table and elegant chairs. And then, as if that wasn't enough, he ushered me into a full-equipped theater room. The walls were painted a deep navy blue, and plush leather seats were arranged in rows, facing a massive screen that took up almost the entire wall.
I was imagining myself watching “Wedding Crashers” in there when my stomach suddenly gave an embarrassingly loud grumble. Lincoln's eyebrows shot up in amusement, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment.
“Let’s finish the tour after I feed you,” he said, lacing his fingers through mine and tugging me out of the room. I stared longingly behind me at the darkened screen. I was a big sucker for movies, and right now, I didn’t even have a T.V.
“My theater room is your theater room,” he teased as we made it into the kitchen. He let me go and wandered to one of the drawers, opening it and rummaging through piles of takeout menus.
“What are you in the mood for, dream girl? Or should we order from a bunch of different places so you can figure out what you’re craving?”
I gaped at him, my mouth actually salivating. I hadn’t thought it possible, but him talking about ordering me lots of food had just upped his hotness factor even more. My mouth was watering as I stared at him.
He sauntered over to the counter nearest me, casually tossing at least six different menus on the marble surface. "Okay, multiple places it is," he drawled, his voice low and gravelly. "Do you want to look through the menus, or should I order some of my favorites for you to try?"
I watched as he sifted through the colorful menus, his eyes scanning each one with a practiced ease. "Your favorites sound good. I'm not picky," I said with a shrug. "When you live off ramen, anything pretty much tastes great."
His face darkened slightly, the shadows playing across his chiseled features. "Don't worry, baby," he murmured, his voice deep and rumbling. "We’re going to fix that."
A shiver ran down my spine at the intensity in his gaze. I licked my lips nervously, suddenly aware of how close he was standing to me. "And I don't have any allergies," I added, trying to break the spell.
"I know," he replied, giving me a sly wink.
I was still on the fence about whether it was creepy that he knew so fucking much about me.
Lincoln ordered a bunch of items from various food delivery places, and then we walked out onto the balcony to wait. His view of the city was stunning, even better than the one I had seen at his teammate’s party. The city lights twinkled like a constellation of glittering lights across the Texas sky, like stars that had descended to Earth.
