When?
Lunch tomorrow?
Brunch?
Making plans with her would have been a lot easier if I had any idea what my weekend with Riggs was going to look like.I hadn’t seen him since the morning after I admitted I was in love with him. That had been a week ago. Confessing my premature feelings for him hadn’t been part of my plan for our night together, but the words had sort of tumbled out. I’d never expected him to return them, so when it happened…
I’d been on cloud nine ever since, but the truth of my feelings for him…our feelings for each other… meant things were real and they were serious. Real and serious meant he would want to meet Lincoln, it meant he would want to meet my other brothers, though I doubted anyone in his position would really want to meet them, especially Marshall.
Soon, I promise.
I’d make sure of it.
Lincoln arrived ten minutes late with wet hair, flushed cheeks, and a flurry of apologies and kisses on the cheek.
“You’re fine,” I promised him, kicking out the other chair so it was easier for him to sit down.
He collapsed into the seat and shoved his overgrown hair out of his face and smiled at me.
“I’ve been the worst friend,” he said.
I laughed at him and took a drink of my wine. “I was just having the same conversation with my friend Asha.”
“What did she have to say?”
“She said I was fine.”
Lincoln rolled his eyes “You better not tell me the same.”
“But you are fine,” I said, laughing again when he reached across the table to smack me on the arm. “You’re my brother happy. That counts for a lot.”
Lincoln grumbled, but he didn’t argue with me about it. Instead he flagged down a waiter, ordered himself a drink, and then said to me, “Tell me about your tattooer.”
I hoped my cheeks didn’t turn red, but the heat burned there beneath the skin just the same.
“Oh, that’s good. Tell me everything.”
“He’s great,” I admitted, scrubbing a hand down my face and angling my stare toward the ceiling. Lincoln’s observant gaze was penetrating, and I quickly realized he wasn’t going to give up on the conversation without getting what he wanted out of me. “It’s easier if you ask, then I can just answer.”
“Is he hung?”
I scoffed. “Why do you care?”
“I want to make sure my friend is getting the dick he deserves.”
Scratching the back of my neck, I tried to figure out the best way to answer the question without spilling a lot of secrets that weren’t necessarily meant to be for other people. Not that I thought Riggs would really care if I told people about his…no, actually, I decided he would care. For one, that wasn’t something for me to tell people. I’d seen firsthand how nervous he’d been to tell me; I certainly wasn’t going to go and spread his business around to people he hadn’t met yet.
“I’m plenty taken care of,” I told Lincoln. It was a statement that was very true, even if it wasn’t a direct answer to his question.
Riggs was yet to leave me unsatisfied, but he had stopped short of going as far as I wanted. Maybe something rougher, which felt like a wild ask considering I still bore his bruises on the backs of my thighs.
It was all right, though, I reasoned. We hadn’t been together long at all. There would be plenty of time.
“I love that for you.”
The waiter returned with Lincoln’s drink and we toasted and drank together. “But it’s more than that, right?”
With the taste of wine still fresh on my tongue, and I nodded.
