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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ELLIE
One minute,I was devouring the Mexican food Lincoln brought home, and the next, I was being devoured by him. I don’t even know how it happened, but I guess the how doesn’t really matter. It happened, and it was even more amazing than the night we spent together at Elite. Not only could I feel him, taste him, and smell him, but I could watch as he kissed and consumed and devoured me like he was starved, and I was the only thing that could satiate his hunger.
This entire day has gone completely off course in the best way possible. When I woke up, I thought I’d spend the morning dancing, then go to my appointment where I’d get to see my baby, and then have dinner with Sienna and her family.
But instead, Lincoln not only showed up and made it clear he wants to be part of our baby’s life, but he went with me to my doctor’s appointment and then took me to lunch for my birthday, complete with a birthday cake. After spending the afternoon lounging by the pool and relaxing, I ended my birthday with a taste of Lincoln—and yummy quesadillas.
But, of course, you can’t have the good without the bad, right? It has to balance itself out, which is why I’m sitting in the living room alone, staring at the television. After Lincoln and I came down from our orgasms, we cleaned up and ate at the island. He at least didn’t make it too awkward, instead talking about the appointment, when the next one is, if I’ve checked my blood pressure...But he ate quickly and then used the excuse that he has work to do before hightailing it out of there and closing himself off in his office for the rest of the evening.
I should probably call it a night, but I’m afraid if I go to sleep, I’ll wake up and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. So, instead, I’m sitting on the couch, watching mindless television and hoping Lincoln will come out and give me some kind of sign as to what the hell this means. At least then I’ll know where to go from here.
The night we hooked up at Elite, I assumed after we had sex, Lincoln would be done, but instead, he took me in his arms and held me. We connected. And I guess I was hoping that would happen again. But with him closing himself off, it’s left me questioning everything: Was it a mistake? Does he regret what happened? Is this normal after sex, for people to go their separate ways? Am I overthinking this?
I want to ask Sienna, but a huge red flag would be raised, and the last thing I want is to make our family dynamics even more awkward.
One show bleeds into another...Raelyn calls and wishes me a happy birthday, and I avoid telling her what happened. Another show, and Sienna calls to see how the rest of my day was. Again, I keep it simple, and she updates me on the girls and their stomach bug. Micah is working from home, and they’re all quarantining in the penthouse. London’s birthday party is postponed until they’re all healthy.
I fall asleep sometime during the third show and wake up to the smoky scent of whiskey and something that’s all Lincoln as he carries me to my room and lays me on my bed. I’m already in my pajamas, so he unfolds the blanket and then covers me with it.
“Goodnight, Kitten,” he murmurs, thinking I’m asleep, as he leans over and kisses my forehead.
“Wait,” I say, latching onto his wrist before he can leave. “I...” I want to ask what today meant, but when I open my eyes and find his features a mixture of confusion and pain, almost as if he’s at war with himself, I lose the courage to ask, afraid of what his answer might be. Afraid that if I try to slap a label on what this means, I won’t like the label he gives me.
So, instead, I go with the wholeignorance is blissmindset, and when he raises his brow, silently prompting me to continue with whatever I need to say, I change my direction. “I want you,” I tell him brazenly, sitting up on my knees so we’re almost eye level. He swallows apprehensively and flinches slightly, and then he stares at me for several seconds, like he’s trying to figure out what to do or say. When he stays motionless for what feels like an eternity, I assume he’s going to tell me no, and then I’ll have my answer to the question I was afraid to ask anyway.
But instead, he shocks the hell out of me when he cups the side of my face and his mouth descends on mine. Unlike the frenzied kiss earlier, this one is soft and sensual. He kisses my top lip first and then moves to my bottom, sucking it into his mouth before he deepens the kiss. As his lips glide against my own, he gently pushes me onto my back and spreads my legs, so he’s hovering above me, his arms caging me in like a protective cocoon.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs, his voice pained, “but I can’t stop wanting you.” His defeated tone has me closingmy eyes, wondering if I should put a stop to this. I am the one who started it after all.
But before I can decide one way or another, Lincoln makes the decision for us by pressing his lips to mine once again. He tastes like whiskey and a hint of Lincoln, and I wish I could bottle it up and save it for when he stops thinking with his dick and puts a stop to all of this and I’m left with only the memory of the times we spent together.
I’ll be sad, and I’ll miss this—the chemistry and connection I feel when we’re intimate in this way—but I’ll also always be grateful to him for helping give me a piece of myself back. He could’ve held a grudge, but he didn’t. And I never expected him to give me anything more than what he gave me that night at Elite, so every time he gives me a little more, I relish the extra gift I’ve been given.
As his lips linger on mine, warmth spreads through my body. And then he breaks the kiss and trails his lips across the curve of my jaw to my ear. “Vanilla is my new favorite scent,” he whispers, causing the warmth to morph into an inferno. “I dreamed about this scent for months after that night...Fantasized about it. But fuck, Kitten, they didn’t do it justice.”
He runs the tip of his nose along my neck, inhaling my scent, and I briefly wonder if I should put the flames out now, before the fire inside me gets out of control and sets my heart ablaze. But I’ve learned that life is short and unpredictable, and all we can do is live in the right now because there might not be a tomorrow. So, that’s what I’m going to do—live in the moment with Lincoln.
Tomorrow, he might not want me. He might wake up and regret everything we’ve done. He might insist we take a step back and focus on the baby we’ve created since we have years of co-parenting ahead of us. But today, Lincoln wants me. And forsomeone who went years craving yet fearing being wanted, being intimate with Lincoln, having him want me and me not push him away, feels pretty damn good.
“Take this off,” he commands, sitting up on his haunches and helping me lift the tiny tank top I was wearing to bed. Because I’m braless, my breasts are immediately on display, and Lincoln wastes no time taking one in his hand and wrapping his lips around my nipple. He licks and sucks on the hardened peak, and I moan in pleasure. I never knew how good being intimate with someone could be. The men who raped me hurt me, and the boys I tried to be with afterward obviously didn’t know their way around a woman’s body, nor did they understand how to pleasure one. Until Lincoln, I felt broken, but little by little, he’s piecing me back together.
Lincoln’s tongue trailing down my torso takes me out of my thoughts as I focus on the way he’s kissing and licking his way down my body. When he removes my cotton shorts and panties, he spreads my thighs slightly and lifts them to my chest. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but since I trust him, I don’t question it until his tongue lands on my puckered hole and flashbacks from that day crash into me like the strongest, unexpected wave, knocking me back and causing me to choke on salt water.
Force.
Pain.
Tearing.
Blood.
Screaming.
Begging.
Crying.
