“No,” I say. “This is all for me.”
CHAPTER30
WHO ORDERED THE DISASTER?
IVY
Lincoln is waiting outside my apartment when Emma and I return. He looks incredible (When doesn’t he?) in a teal dress shirt that I know without touching will be expensively smooth and my favorite dark jeans, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the collar undone enough that his gold chain and a peek of tattoo are visible as we get closer.
I remember how spectacularly rumpled he looked the morning after the masquerade, his shirt half buttoned, jacket slung over his arm. His bedhead alone almost destroyed me enough to drag him back to bed.
As soon as he turns, his lips part. I barely get to ask, “Do you like—” before he has stalked forward and cupped my face in both hands and is kissing me breathless in the hallway.
Fireflies awaken under my skin, humming and buzzing around my heart, lighting up my ribcage. This is not the gentle kiss we shared in front of his family or the deep and deliberate kiss he gave me our first night together.
No, it’s so much more. It’s hunger and fire and a sweeping wave of ownership that knocks me off my feet until all I can do is hold on and surrender.
“Oh,” I breathe as he softly nips on my lower lip. I’m definitely going to need a minute to remember what words are.
Distantly, I hear Emma say, “Lincoln Montgomery Reeves, you better not kiss everyone like that.” But Lincoln’s palms are still warm on my cheeks, his mouth mere inches from my own.
He stares down, eyes blazing. Oh, wow.
“I take it you like the new look,” I finally breath out, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You’re ravishing, darling. More so than usual.”
I have to close my eyes under the praise, awareness slowly creeping back in. I release his arms, which I’ve been clinging to, and step back to collect myself, since he doesn’t seem all too interested in parting from me. But Emma knows we aren’t really dating, so there’s no chance to really indulge whatever has come over him.
At least he likes the hair.
“Emma, I hope you’ve been well.”
“I am. Almost as well as you, from the look of it.”
I can hear the smile in her voice, but I haven’t been able to take my eyes off Lincoln. As if sensing my gaze, he turns back to me.
“Infatuation suits me.”
Emma chuckles. “Well, on that note, I’ll leave you two to it.” She pulls me in for a hug. “You better text me everything,” she whispers in my ear. “Have fun at dinner.”
* * *
The restaurant is nice (not that I expected any less), although not quite Lincoln’s style. It’s all hard, sharp lines and cool, pale tones. There’s a low hum of noise, as though sound itself is being carefully traded between guests, no one showing their hand.
Even the exposed kitchen works in almost silence. It’s off-putting, but he knows his brother better than I do, so I don’t mention it.
Reed and a woman I’m assuming is Felicity, his girlfriend, are already seated when we arrive, and when I know we’re in view of them, I pull Lincoln to a stop.
It’s indulgent and selfish, but my lips have been burning with the need to touch his since we left, and I’m not going to get many chances to do this, so why not stretch up and kiss him?
Just to touch. To taste. To remember.
He strokes along my jaw, and my heart jumps. “What was that for?”
Lightning skitters along my spine. The way he looks at me is exactly what I’ve always wished for.
“Just playing my part,” I say with a smile, expecting him to joke back, but he doesn’t. Instead, he frowns, and I have the all-too-terrible feeling I just said the wrong thing.
