His hand tightens in my hair as he steps closer to me, his tongue sliding down the side of my throat, before his teeth graze my pulse point.
“I need you,” he rasps out.
The hand that was on my chin slides down my body and grips my waist pulling me closer.
My hands are sliding up his shirt, feeling the hard expanse of his body and sliding further up against his chest hair.
“I need you too,” I whisper back and I mean it with every fiber of my being.
With the taste of him on my tongue I’m feeling greedy and all I want is more. Lincoln dips his fingers in the orange juice and drags the sticky drink along my throat and down the valley of my breasts in the loose shirt I’m wearing.
My flesh breaks out in eagerness and desire as his tongue starts between my breasts and he licks it up all the way behind my ear.
“I want to lick every inch of you,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. “So fucking sweet, baby.”
I sigh, wetness pooling in my panties over his words and touch. He pulls back and leans down to kiss me again. My breath hitches as I await the soft press of his lips and another hit of his tangy tongue, as the backdoor begins to slide open.
We pull apart immediately, Lincoln taking a step back as my heart races in my chest and I grab the knife.
I’m so frantic that when I attempt to cut the next potato, I slice the tip of my finger.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“What’s wrong?” I hear my dad’s voice behind us.
He’s approaching, the only feature on his face is concern for my finger. He doesn’t look pissed or like he saw me and Lincoln together, so I swallow back some of that fear.
Lincoln grabs a paper towel and holds it against my cut. When I look at his face, all I can see is hidden sadness, that he hates being a secret. I swallow thickly and wince at my finger.
“You need to be more careful, Penny,” Lincoln says, a small smirk on his face.
I somehow want to kiss it and slap it off his face at the same time.
“I’ll go get the first aid kit,” my dad says with a nod before wandering off.
“No more messing around while we’re here,” I tell him.
“You started it.”
My mouth parts, and he swallows, leaning down and kissing my bottom lip.
“I just said?—”
“I know what you said,” he replies, kissing my cheek and applying pressure as my dad comes back with the kit.
Lincoln pulls back the towel and my dad looks at the cut.
“Doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches,” my dad says, using disinfectant and putting a bandage on it. “Now what the hell did I come in here for?” he questions and looks around the kitchen. “Ah, that’s right,” he says, grabbing some lemons out of the fridge. “Be more careful, yeah?” My dad gives me a cautionary glance as he leaves the kitchen.
I’ll need to be more careful indeed.
“See you for dinner,” Lincoln says, grabbing his glass of juice and hums after he swallows. “Delicious.”
Someone please make this torturous vacation hurry the hell up.
26
HARD (FIGURATIVELY AND LITERALLY)
