“Breakfast?” a low, rough voice asks, cementing Lincoln as the hottest fucking being I’ve ever laid eyes on. “Or is there something else you’re hungry for?”
Oops.
I clear my throat and look away. “I think you fed me enough last night,” I lie, picking up the pieces of his outfit off the floor. I doubt I could ever have my fill of him, and that’s exactly why I’m going to stop.
He sits up, stretching out his arms and shoulders, not caring how naked he is, daring me to look.To want.
I thrust his clothes at his chest, a full stop to his unspoken sentence.
It’s not because I didn’t enjoy having (insanely good) sex with him. It’s because last night was the mostmeI’ve felt in a very long time, despite not being myself for most of it.
Lincoln saw me, somehow knew exactly what I needed and then gave it to me. And no matter how much I want to crawl back into bed and lick my way down those incredible tattoos, it would be all too easy to let his smile lead me down the path to heartbreak.
Somewhere out there, there’s a different version of this morning, where I give in to the urge to kiss him awake and spend the rest of the day discovering every way we might fit together.
It’s a different Ivy who gets to enjoy that. The one who imagines last night as the start of a wonderful love story.
The Ivy who is going to get her heart trampled on.
All I’m doing is protecting her.
“Come here,” he says, his biceps bulging and his legs splayed open like an invitation I very much want to RSVP to. Discarding his clothes on the bed beside him, he takes my hand and pulls me between his thighs (oh god, those tattoos might actually kill me). He’s gentle as he turns my palm over and kisses it.
“Sure I can’t change your mind?”
When he looks up at me, I have to tip my head back against the sparks zipping along my skin.
Am I sure? Of course not.
I step back, and he drops his hands to his thighs.Seriously, Ivy, stop looking. “Maybe next time,” he says with a smile, finally gathering his clothes and getting dressed.
There’s nothing special about the apartment on its own. Every right angle and perfectly uniform light fixture makes me mad if I notice it for too long. I like it a little messy. I fit with messy. When everything’s put away just right, it feels like I can’t touch anything.
But messy isn’t a good habit for dating.
The history of my love life could read as a warning label.CAUTION: Prone to falling fast into unrequited love.
It reminds me of those safety warnings on appliances that make no sense. Like “please don’t lick the hairdryer,” as though someone out there hurt themselves and then complained that there was no strict instruction against it.
It’s good to know my heart is on the same level as dryer-licking guy.
It’s just that, when I like someone, my hopes tend to rise like Lazarus. It’s not Lincoln’s fault, just like it wasn’t Hannah’s or Elijah’s. They want a bit of no-strings-attached fun, and for a night, I can give it to them.
Any longer than that is dangerous for me.
“Hey, uh,” I say, shoving one foot into a sneaker and looking around for its mate. I should probably clean now that I’ve got all this extra time on my hands, but I could probably spend a day organizing, and it would just look like chaos again before noon. “I know I already said it, but I’m really sorry about calling myself your girlfriend last night. If I’d known I was talking to your mom, well… Anyway, I’m sure you can come up with a reason for us to break up.”
“No apologies necessary, Ivy. I’ll take care of it,” he says. I can’t place the odd note in his tone, but when I turn, he’s smiling softly and holding out my other shoe.
“Thanks.”
I’ve gotta say, my foot hasn’t gotten any tastier than when I was a kid. I really have to stop putting that thing in my mouth.
But afterward… oh.
It was more intense than any one-night stand I’ve ever had, which is really going to make dating complicated. Because I already want more, and I really didn’t need to bemoreof an odd duck.
“Do you do that a lot?” I ask him while I lace up. Which is a ridiculous question now that I think about it, because of course he does. Why would I think I’m the first? Just because he reached into my soul and made my deepest desires come true doesn’t mean it was anything special to him.
