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He collected her hair in one hand and yanked her head back, not causing pain but allowing him better access to slide up with his tongue. Placing nibbling bites along the way until his mouth met hers. He swept his tongue inside, meeting hers, the kiss fanning the embers of his lust for her.
Vivi shuddered as his fingers delved deeper to find her core, and her hips rocked against his. He gripped her hips hard, as though he was afraid she’d disappear into thin air and lifted her until she was aligned over him. Then she sank down onto him, and her tight heat gripped him like a fist.
It was perfect. She’d been made for him, and him alone. All the broken parts and the missing pieces were gone. They fit together into something beautiful. Something he would kill to maintain. He was never letting her go.
She rocked her hips and he groaned. They found a rhythm, starting out slow. Easy, but still mind-blowing. Moment by moment surging deeper. Harder. Faster. Until sweat dusted their skin and their jagged breathing was the only music filling the room.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Come with me.”
She reached down between them, finding her clit and rubbing. He felt her fingertips against his shaft, and the decadent swipe had him balancing on the edge of the blade. His balls drew up, his dick grew unbelievably hard.
“Vivi,” he gasped. His body surged against hers, and he came, shuddering with each spill inside her. After a moment, he relaxed back down and pulled her sweaty body with him. Their hearts beat frantically, merging into one.
Chapter Fourteen
“I think I need a hobby. Or a job.”
“You?”
“Why did you say that like it’s a crazy idea?” Vivi asked. She lay in the crook of Lincoln’s arm as his fingers stroked absently through her hair. The sun slowly rose, the blinds filtering only a fraction of sunlight every now and then. They were wrapped up in a bubble she was loathe to break, because tomorrow, they would make their way into a different dynamic. “I was thinking … kazoo.”
“Kazoo? For the hobby or the job?”
“There are jobs for kazoo players?”
“If there are, there shouldn’t be. Kazoos are the devil.”
“What about a harmonica player? Like what a cowboy would play out on the range?”
“Only if you’re prepared to ride horses all day and corral cattle.”
Her nose wrinkled, as if she could smell the bovines. “That might not be for me after all. Let’s file that under T for trash. What about … candle-making?”
“Are you good working with hot wax? One small slip and you’ll get burned if you’re not careful. How good are you at handling pain?”
“Not very. That was one of the reasons I could never be into BDSM. And believe me, I tried.” She cocked her head. “Okay, so no go on that. How about ghost hunting? We could do it together and get a TV deal. I don’t think there’re any motorcycle dudes currently in television discovering specters lingering in old, drafty castles.”
“Couple of things that make me say no,” he said. “First, I want to hear all about dipping your toe into BDSM. Second, there are no castles around here with ghosts so we’d have to move to Scotland or parts of Europe. Third, I don’t believe in ghosts. And four, I like saying the wordfucktoo much to be on camera.”
“Yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “Let’s keep the fucks. I like the fucks. What about origami?”
“Sure. That’s cool. It takes dexterity and discipline. You can probably learn by watching YouTube videos. Probably start out with simple shapes and before you know it, you’ll be turning napkins into swans. It takes dedication and concentration.”
She thought for a moment. “Nah. Now that I’m thinking about it, origami seems very boring.”
He patted her arm. “What did you do in your spare time before all this happened?”
She knew exactly what he meant bybefore. Before O’Shannon came into her family’s life. Before her brother died. Before Lincoln and the Death Riders. “I did yoga. I liked the peace of it. Walking into a studio filled with calming scents and melodic music. My brain can be a little messy, and I discovered yoga helps to quiet it. Sometimes I would lead a class when an instructor was running late.”
“Well, do that.”
“Yoga isn’t a hobby.”
“You also said you might want a job. Why not turn your passion into your work?”
She blinked. “Like open a yoga studio?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
