Reaching up, I grip the back of Linc’s neck and pull him even closer to me. We land on the bed as my lips possess his in a singular quest to eliminate every emotion, every memory.
Every thought.
The taste of freedom is potent on his tongue. So is my shameless desire to claim it.
“Sylvie,” he mutters, one hand cupping my cheek.
I clutch the fabric of his shirt. “Linc, please, I need you.”
A noise rattles in his throat as I cling to him for dear life. “Let me hold you,” he whispers against my lips, bringing his hands to the sides of my face. His lips, the way they say my name, the way they kiss away the pain, I’ve finally found the relief I need.
“You need this. I need this. Let me give it to you.” I release an aching cry as Linc draws me even closer, wrapping me in his arms. “It’s no one’s fault. It’s not ours and it wasn’t his either. No one can be at fault for the way they feel.”
Instead of drowning in the suffocating guilt, I allow myself to be wrapped in the comfort, heat, and familiarity of Linc. Then I fall apart again. Only this time, when I’m finished, I don’t feel cold, empty, and alone.
I finally feel…free.
Blinking, I try to adjust my swollen eyes. My cheek is nestled in the crook of Linc’s shoulder and I inhale a long breath, his distinct smell enveloping me. His chin rests lightly on top of my head while my arm hugs his middle.
God, it feels so good here.
I don’t want to move from this spot.
His hand drifts up and down my back.
“What time is it?” I ask, my voice scratchy and raw as I rub my face against his shirt.
“Four thirty,” he answers softly.
“Shit!” Pushing against his chest, I try in vain to escape his warm embrace. “Caroline.”
He holds me tighter. “I already called your mom to pick her up. They’re going to get some ice cream then she’ll bring her home.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear, his fingers gliding across my cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re exhausted.” His voice is soft, deep.
Knowing.
“You need to rest.”
“I don’t have time to rest. I have a daughter to take care of.”
“Well, who’s taking care of you?”
“I’m fine.”
“How is she supposed to get better if you don’t? You don’t talk about anything, Syl. Not with me, Caroline, your family, nobody. You’re closed off and you need to deal with this. It’s time to face it.”
I pull from his arms, and sigh gratefully when he releases me this time. I can’t look at him right now. It hurts too much. I’ll never be able to tell him the reason I sent him away or why I carry so much guilt over Dean’s death, because it would mean confessing my own secret and it’s too painful to even think about.
Sitting up in bed, I look down at the floor instead. Soft sunlight falls across the beige carpet in golden streams, so pure and warm, the exact opposite of how I feel inside.
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
I feel him scoot in behind me, the bed dipping as he moves closer. “I don’t wanna talk about him either. I wanna talk about you.” He presses a kiss to my lower back, and even with my shirt as a barrier between his lips and my skin it still causes goose bumps to ripple across my flesh. “You used to talk to me about everything.”
“Why didn’t you ever marry Charlotte?” I ask, diverting the attention from me.
