I exhaled a shaky breath and bit my thumbnail. “Okay. Okay. That’s fine. Totally fine, right? Him knowing right now isn’t the end of the world.”
But itcouldbe. If Beau pushed or if the wrong person overheard something… If, somehow, the grant board got windof Lincoln’s and my not-so-holy union before we even had the opportunity to advance in the process.
“You’re right,” Lincoln said evenly. “It’s not the end of the world.”
Except I didn’t quite believe him.
I grabbed a rag and started wiping down the already clean counter, like maybe if I scrubbed hard enough, I could rewind time. “We just need to keep things quiet for a bit longer. The final round is an in-person interview, and if we make it that far?—”
“We will,” he said, his voice a hell of a lot surer than I felt.
“If we do, I’ll talk to him after. Or you will. We both can—it doesn’t matter. We’re just going to have to avoid him until then.”
Lincoln stared at me for a long moment, his gaze assessing. “If that’s what you want.”
I breathed out a hysterical laugh. “Oh, it’s definitely not what I want. But I don’t see us having another choice.”
As if connecting with Beau so infrequently since he’d been away wasn’t bad enough. Now, I had this huge secret I couldn’t share driving an even bigger wedge between us.
I started pacing again, too many thoughts flying through my head to contain my movement. “I should clean out the cupboards. Or maybe reorganize the pantry. Actually, I’ll do the spices. I’ve been meaning to?—”
“Willa.” Lincoln’s voice was quiet. Firm.
I froze with a jar of coriander in my hand and glanced at him.
He strode toward me slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Like I wasn’t over here freaking the fuck out. “You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not,” I lied.
He just grinned, soft and sure. Like he knew me. Knew what I needed and was ready to give it to me. I glanced away from him, staring at the jars in front of me instead.
“Look at me, wife.”
I definitely could not do that. Not when he had this…this…wayabout him, all magnetic and charming. And not when I was already at my breaking point, afraid of what I might do if it all came crumbling down.
So instead, I focused on the curve of his collarbone where it peeked out from the tattered neckline of his favorite T-shirt. Smooth, golden skin, all firm and strong and—god. Looking there had been a giant mistake. Forget forearm porn. This man hadcollarboneporn, and I was sure he could charge admission to the show.
He grabbed the jars from my hands and set them on the counter before stepping into me. So close, my breasts brushed his chest with every inhale.
Wrapping an arm around me, he settled his hand gently on my lower back, his fingers brushing the curve of my ass. “How about some practice?” he asked, his voice low. “I’ve heard it’s good for grounding.”
I huffed out an incredulous laugh and shook my head. “You think your mouth is enough to fix my freak-out?”
His grin was slow and wicked, and I felt it straight to my toes. “You tell me.”
My gaze dropped to his lips, and every response I could’ve given him died in my throat. The rebuttals evaporated into thin air when he leaned down, his breath skimming my cheek. Floated away as he trailed his hand up, slipping his fingertips under the hem of my shirt. Just disappeared completely when he placed a soft, tentative kiss on the corner of my mouth.
“Just relax, hellcat,” he murmured against my lips. “Let me take care of you.”
I was so tired of fighting—of holding everything up—that for once, I just…didn’t. I didn’t put up a fight. Didn’t add any frictionsolely for the sake of being contrary. I needed to be swept away—to forget about the shitshow that was my life.
And I was going to let Lincoln do just that.
The first kiss was gentle. Teasing. The second was a promise of what was to come. And the third? Well, it had no business in a fake marriage. Not when every moment of it felt like Lincoln was pouring all of his focus into learning the shape of my mouth and memorizing the exact tenor of my moans.
This practice session may have started sweet, but it quickly shifted into something more. Into Lincoln taking…claiming. Stealing my breath like it belonged to him and kissing me like he was starved for my taste.
I gasped when he bit my bottom lip, moaned when he brushed his tongue against it to soothe the sting. He gripped my hips tightly, like he knew one of us was about to lose control.
