It didn’t matter how far Lincoln was standing from me. I couldfeelhim. And I knew if I turned around, I’d find him watching me the way he had in the store. Like he wanted to bite me. Or brand me.
Or both.
Honestly, thenerveof this man. Acting like that just because he was my husband.On paper, mind you.
Not for real.
Not forever.
I set a bag of zucchini onto the counter with a little more force than necessary and huffed a breath. Lincoln would probably lose his shit if he knew Jeff had suggested those too.
“Something on your mind, wife?” he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was low, controlled in a way that absolutely was not fair.
I was anything but controlled.
“Nope.”
“You sure? Cause you’ve practically drop-kicked the squash and slammed every cabinet door in less than a minute.”
“Fine. You want to know what’s on my mind?” I slammed another door and turned to glare at him. “You don’t get to mark your territory and pee a circle around me just because we filed some paperwork. I’m not a fucking fence post, Lincoln.”
His expression didn’t falter, but the corner of his jaw ticked. The only outward sign of his irritation.
“No,” he said, stepping toward me. “But youaremy wife, and I’m your husband.”
I scoffed and backed into the counter without meaning to. “What does that?—”
“You didn’t seem to mind marking your territory with that flirty blonde at the Strawberry Festival.”
I blinked, jerking back. “That was different. She was shoving her tits in your face and practically licking your neck!”
He stepped even closer, his voice low. “So you admit it bothered you.”
“I—” I started before snapping my mouth shut. Fuckyes,it had bothered me. She’d been all over him, and I’d wanted to climb him like a tree and hiss at her from the top. “I don’t care.”
He braced his hands on the counter on either side of my hips and leaned down until we were eye to eye. “You, my lovely wife, are a beautiful little liar.”
I shoved against his chest, but the big jackass didn’t move. “I’mnotlying. There’s no reason for that to bother me. This isn’t real, Lincoln.”
His eyes darkened, his jaw ticking. “No?”
I swallowed hard, my breathing rough as I met his gaze. “No.”
He lowered his face, ran his nose along the curve of my jaw, down my neck and back up again. Against my ear, he whispered, “I don’t believe you.”
Pulling back, he flicked his gaze down to my lips before meeting my eyes once again. “You know why? Because your cheeks are all flushed and your breathing is ragged and your nipples are hard as fuck. And I bet if I slipped my hand inside your panties, I’d feel just how fucking wet you are. Tell me that’s not real.”
“It’s not?—”
He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “It sure as hell felt real when you came in my lap and when you rode my face like you couldn’t get enough. And how about when I was wiping my come off your perfect tits? Was that real, hellcat?”
Heat blasted through me like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending in my body. My pulse was a feral, reckless beast, and my pussy throbbed for his touch. Every inch of me recalling, in great detail, just how good he’d made me feel.
“Say it again,” he said, stepping into me until barely a breath of space was left between us. “Tell me it isn’t real.”
I opened my mouth to do just that but found I couldn’t. For years, I’d been fighting this thing between us, and I was so tired. Of lying to him. Of lying to myself.
“That’s what I thought.” He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and crashed his mouth down on mine.
