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He’s the last thing which is really clear, other than the leering looks my tits were getting from Eric. He made me feel so fucking gross. I should have never given online dating a shot. New year, new me? Yeah right. I might want a new me, but that doesn’t mean anyone else is up for the task. It certainly doesn’t mean guys are suddenly going to be decent.
I groan rubbing my eyes and desperately trying to clear some of the fog from my brain. I remember the guy behind the bar trying to make a joke which landed flat and then…that’s it. What else happened?
The bed is soft and warm; I can only hope it’s my own. When I finally sit up and open my eyes, I’m not met with a single thing I was expecting to see. I blink a few times; certain I must be seeing things. This room is decorated in navy blues and silver, nothing like the white and apricot in my own bedroom.
Where the fuck am I?
I should scream. Right? If I scream, who will come running? I look around the room and almost heave a sigh of relief because I’m alone.
I let my head drop into my hands. Did I do something monumentally stupid last night? I hope I didn’t go home with that Eric douche, but if it’s not what happened, then what did? Why are my memories a blank?
I look to the side table and my phone is there, plugged in. Nice touch for an asshole who only wanted to take advantage of me. Looking down my body I’m wearing a t-shirt which is somehow large, even on me. Quite a feat if I do say so myself.
My body is sore, but not where I would think it is if I spent the night being fucked by some creep. Damn it.
Tears well up in my eyes. I feel like complete shit and to top it all off, I feel guilty as hell. I know I shouldn’t, it’s not like I owed Lincoln anything, but still my heart breaks. Did he see me leave with Eric? Did he even care?
Where the fuck am I?
The last thought has me starting to freak the fuck out and my breathing starts to pick up.
Before I can spiral, the doorhandle starts to turn causing my eyes to snap to it while I hold my breath. Moment of truth time. My vision starts to tunnel and I’m a hair’s breadth away from full-on panic attack mode.
When the door swings open, the person standing there is not who I’m expecting at all. Much like when I took in the room around me, I find myself blinking a few times. I’m pretty sure if I do it enough then the vision in front of me is going to change. He’s watching me so closely and my muscles start to relax.
I croak out, “Lincoln?”
He gives me a small smile as he moves toward me, slowly and surprisingly quiet for a man of his size. The concerned pull of his eyebrows starts to soften out and his shoulders relax a little. Was he worried about me? What the fuck happened?
When he gets to the side of the bed, he squats down on his haunches putting us close to eye level. “Hey, Little Bit. How are you feeling?”
I swallow hard and close my eyes, taking another full body assessment of myself. I’m not sure if knowing Lincoln is here, wherever we are, with me instead of Eric should make me panic even more, but I find myself calming down. My heart isn’t about to beat through my chest anymore and I think I can breathe like a normal person instead of someone running a marathon.
Which is good. Very good.
I open my eyes slowly and wince, I must look like a drowned raccoon right now. I spared no expense on the smokey eye for my date last night and I’m sure it is everywhere. Oh well.
Lincoln is looking at me with concern, but he’s also like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Maybe he has a racoon fetish. I’ve never met someone who was into the whole furry thing, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
“I’m,” I pause searching for the right word, “okay. I think.”
Lincoln nods as his hand slowly moves to cover my knee still under the sheet. The warmth of his hand shouldn’t have me thinking all the dirty thoughts I can conjure up, but it does. If my throat didn’t feel like I swallowed glass with my head not faring much better, I could maybe act on those feelings. I don’t think now is the time though.
Lincoln nods toward the side table where my phone is. I didn’t notice the bottle of water or the small bottle of headache medicine before, but now they cause a chorus of angels to begin singing. I grab it eagerly tearing off the cap and downing half the bottle of water before I realize what I’m doing. Did I somehow sleep in the Sahara?
“Woah,” Lincoln’s deep, rich voice calls out. He gently lowers the bottle from my lips. “Slow down, Willow.”
I swallow hard and then he’s pressing two pills into my hand. I pop them into my mouth, swallowing them down before I consider the possibility I shouldn’t. The look he gives me is filled with censure and something like pride.
“Where? What?” I groan softly and press my hand against my forehead. I really should be freaking out more than I am. Maybe later I’ll have a meltdown, but what I really want right now are answers.
Lincoln takes the water from me and puts it on the table again before I’m in his arms as he maneuvers himself to sit up against the headboard and I’m sitting on his lap sideways. Holy shit, he moves fast for a guy his size. I feel heat rising up my cheeks. I should protest and tell him I’m too heavy for him, but the move was so effortless I can’t get the words to come out.
Lincoln sighs loudly, it’s a sound full of angst and frustration. I find myself rubbing his shoulder, trying to comfort him. His t-shirt is so soft and I’m very aware of the muscles which bunch under my hand and the little bit of extra padding he has there. He’s not a man I could break, that’s for damn sure.
“Your date,” he bites the words out like they’re poison to him.
I hang my head in shame. I should have never gone on the date to begin with, but, considering where I’m sitting right now, I’m finding it difficult to be too upset about it. Although further explanation is certainly needed right now.
