For once, I didn’t want to react, I wanted toembracethe unexpected. Last night, I had made a choice. Terrifying, exhilarating, and entirely mine. I’d chosenLincoln. I may not be ready to tell him I love him, but I could show him we wanted the same: consequences, doubts, andeverythingthat may come.
When Lincoln cameout of my bedroom in the morning, shirt hanging around his neck, I was already brewing a cup of steaming hot coffee for him. He slid his arms around my waist, warm and anchoring, and pressed his lips to the base of my neck.I slipped a hand into his hair, holding him there, wanting him tethered to me.
“Morning,” he murmured against my neck, voice still rough from sleep. His fingertips found their way under my shirt, and goosebumps pebbled under the reverence of his touch.
He straightened, turned me around to face him, his gaze searching mine. “I can run out and?—”
“No,” I said, resting my palms against the slightly rapid thud of his heartbeat. “One way or the other, it’ll be okay.”
His brows drew together, uncertainty flashing in his expression. “Are you…”
“I mean it.” I tipped my chin to meet his gaze, forcing myself to let my guard down, make him see. “I don’t want to undo what we did last night.”
He swallowed, jaw tight, as though holding back a dozen questions.
“Nothing can undo last night,” he croaked out. “Babe. You want to?—”
I groaned, hiding my face in his chest. “Linc, can we not go withbabe, please? It’s?—”
I yelped when he gave my ass a quick squeeze.
“Lincoln!”
“What?” His grin was unrepentant, boyish even, the sharp edge of his earlier worry blunted.
“You pinched me!”
He shrugged. “I likebabe.” He shifted where he stood, hands flexing at his sides, a pink flush rising across his cheekbones. “This is… a learning process for me. I want to get it right with you.”
His words warmed my insides. My eyes softened as I placed one of the steaming mugs in his hand. He went to move toward the ice maker, but I covered the rim with my hand, stopping him.
“It’s been long enough,” I muttered. “The lukewarm drinks. The extra spice in your food. The pink shirts. The sunglasses.”
For a beat, he just blinked at me—then his shoulders slumped with a rush of air. His thumb traced a slow line down the side of the mug before he glanced up at me, relief softening every sharp line in his face.
“What if I like the leopard-print sunglasses?”
“Then by all means.” I smiled faintly, my chest tight. “But Linc—we’re moving past the hurt, yeah?”
He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there staring at me with enough intensity to commit this moment to memory, as if he could imprint this version of me somewhere inside him. Finally, he nodded and took a sip of the still-hot coffee. He hummed in delight, eyes sliding shut.
“Fuck,” he said, low and rough, “that’s almost as good as your pussy.”
I smacked his shoulder, half laughing, half scandalized. “Lincoln!”
He grinned, but there was heat in it, and his free hand snaked around to my hip, tugging me an inch closer until my knees brushed his shins.
“Just to be clear, Iamgetting back on the pill. This isn’t open season on baby making.”
His eyes flared dark, the relief giving way to hunger so fast it made my pulse skip.
“Well,” he said, voice dropping, “if you get on it tomorrow… that gives me about a week to knock you up, doesn’t it?”
“You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, setting the mug aside with deliberate care before sliding his hands from my waist to cradle my face. His thumbs pressed softly under my jaw, tilting my head up to look into his eyes.
“But I’m yours,” he murmured, half vow, half surrender.
