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“Geez, Gem. Way to make me the worst uncle.”
“Jules says you drop over.”
“Not enough, apparently.”
“They’re at a tough age. Once they’re a little older and it is easier to take them out places, I’m sure you’ll hang out with them more.”
“You like the kids, huh?”
“I love kids. They’re just… refreshing. They are full of wonder at the world that so many of us lose. And their hearts are just wide open.”
“You are full of wonder,” he told me. “And love very openly too.”
For some reason, I automatically looked for some kind of insincerity in his words. Some hint of sarcasm.
There was none.
“That might be the best compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Is it really a compliment if it’s true?” he asked, closing the trunk of his car, bleeping the locks even though the car lived in a safer house than most millionaires. “Come on. You gotta finish that garlic bread,” he told me, giving my hip a squeeze as he moved past.
Taking a deep breath, I followed behind, willing my lady bits to hold on just a little while longer.
We ate discussing the birthday party the next afternoon, about how we typically spent weekends, about food ideas for the next week, neither of us even bringing up the possibility that I might be back into my own house, my own life, before then.
“Alright. I clean. You go do your bath thing.”
My bath thing.
I had never had a ‘bath thing’ before.
But there was no mistaking it now. Every night before bed, I took advantage of his clawfoot tub. I’d even bought a couple new things to make it even more special. Epson salt soaks, bombs, even some dried flowers for when I was feeling fancy.
Tonight, with seduction on my mind, I was definitely feeling pretty fancy.
I couldn’t claim I had ever actually seduced anyone before, ever set out to get someone to want to sleep with me.
Sex had always just been a natural progression of things. The right place, the right vibe, the right word or touch or whatever that tipping point was that made two people go from platonic to anything but.
I had never been someone to overthink it either. Not even my first time. To me, sex was a natural part of life. Something that could mean a lot, or something that meant very little. And either way, it was a perfectly valid thing, a great way to spend time, something enjoyable and freeing.
But there was no denying that overthinking was exactly what I was doing as I finally sank down under the slightly too-hot water, feeling it immediately start to ease the ache in my muscles, pull the tension from my bones.
I sat there in silence, listening to the movements of Lincoln through the house, oddly thankful for the somewhat thin walls, hearing him finish up the dishes, walking around the house, likely turning off lights, locking up. He wasn’t, as a rule, someone who stayed up late. He called himself ‘useless’ after midnight.
Stairs creaked, the pipes groaned, water splattered.
It took some serious self-control not to reach down, put an end to the ache that I had been feeling all day. All week.
But, I reminded myself, not getting rid of that particular sort of tension would make it all the more amazing when he did it for me.
Climbing out, I put extra care into my bedtime routine, slipping into a sexy silk booty shorts and tank top outfit Jules had gotten me for my last birthday, buttery smooth and a pale yellow, it was cool enough to make me shiver before it stole some of my warmth, wove it into its fabric.
Pulling my hair down, I finger-combed it into some sort of order, then took a deep breath, flicking off the light, going into my room, then pausing in the hall, seeking the courage I needed to keep going.
Insecurity was not something all that familiar to me. It relied so strongly on fears, on things that weren’t inherent to me, sensations only felt when there was a real danger around.
I’d been lucky to have been raised to know who I was and feel sure about that, to believe in my convictions, to understand that what people thought or said about me actually had nothing to do with my shortfalls, and everything to do with their own personal unexplored and healed traumas.
I didn’t fret.
I didn’t wonder how people might respond to me.
Yet there was no denying the swirling belly and cold sweat sensations assaulting me as I forced one foot in front of the other.
Lincoln’s door was left a few inches open as it always was. My hand reached to press into the smooth wood, pushing it open wide enough to move within.
Lincoln was standing at the foot of his bed, bent forward slightly, the light of his phone illuminating the otherwise dark room.
