Chapter Forty-One

Michaela

January 3^rd

 

Saturday. Last day in Williamsburg. I flew out tomorrow morning.

I woke before Lincoln again, naked, and put my pajamas on.

He slept through me taking boxes of souvenirs and keepsakes downstairs to wrap up. Guess enough orgasms were better than any sleeping pill. Abby would be here at nine (her hours were written on a chalk notes board in the kitchen) and I wanted this stuff ready to mail by then. Presents from Busch Gardens were in my suitcase, but everything else would be shipped home.

It gave me time to think about last night.

He kept surprising me. What man wanted a twenty-eight-year-old woman with my baggage? His acceptance—and willingness to slay my dragons even—was nice in the bubble of this quiet house, but could I trust it for real life?

That was the sticking point.

He’d glommed onto me fast.

It was too easy to chalk this week up to unusual circumstances and great sex.

I loved the kind of distraction he presented, but had to return to real life soon, and all it’s responsibilities—and so did he. The band had to rehearse for the tour, not just leave on it.

Why did I suggest watching a show together every Tuesday? Stupid hormones. Maybe we could find some way to work a relationship in L.A., but what were the odds? I couldn’t risk the level of hurt that would come from letting him in and getting disappointed.

Heartbroken.

Crushed in new ways.

Some fears weren’t irrational.

Some were survival instincts.

Moira’s question recurred in my mind: Are you better with or without him?

Well, I hadn’t had new without time to figure that out, yet.

Ugh…I’d only go in circles about this until I returned home, and today had no built in distractions. No amusement parks or lawyer meetings or cleaning the house or funerals involved. Only…time.

With Lincoln asleep in my bed.

Boxes secured with brown paper, packing tape, and my home address, I returned upstairs.

Entered the bedroom and gently shut the door behind me.

He lay bathed in soft morning light, sheet low at his waist. His hair was a wild mess that failed to detract from his perfect face one bit. Having this view on a frequent basis wouldn’t be a bad thing. It was the easiest part of knowing him and the least scary.

“Are you going to stand there all morning or get over here?” he sleepily asked.

I smiled and crawled over him. “Hi.”

Black lashes lifted to reveal emerald chips. “Why are you dressed every time I’m not looking?”

“I can’t walk around the house naked.”

“Are we alone still?”

“Yes.”

His hands slipped under my shirt. “Then why not?”

I sat on his lap to lift my arms. “It’s cold, for one, and your mom is expected at nine.”

He tossed my shirt aside, then turned his face toward the alarm clock. “Seven-thirty.” His morning wood was prominent under me. “Try again, sweetheart.”

I bent down so my breasts made contact with his bare chest. “Do you really want to keep chatting?”

A groan of desire. “Your skin feels so good on mine.” His hands wandered my bare back. “But I do want to check in. Yesterday—”

“Is yesterday.” I ran my tongue up the side of his neck. Come on, dude.

“And I have questions.”

I sighed and lifted my head. “Like?”

He kept caressing my back. “I know how you feel about losing what you did, but are you happy about what you have?”

“Like what?” Right now, I was happy to taste his skin.

His heartbeat responded, encouraging my ministrations. “Baby, I love your mouth on me, but pause for a second.”

I gave him my best what? expression.

He brushed my hair behind my ear. “I meant what I said last night. I’m not going anywhere. In case you doubted that.”

“Pretty clear on your stubbornness by now.”

One corner of his mouth popped up. “You know what I mean.”

I sighed. Playful mood over. “I believe you mean it now. But we return to real life tomorrow. It’s easy to have a fling when you’re in a bubble. Let’s not make unrealistic promises, okay?”

His hand resting on my neck moved to cup my cheek. “Do you really think you’re forgettable? Michaela, stop…stop over-thinking, stop being afraid, and stop doubting me.”

I sat up. “How can you separate me from the sex? We’ve only known each other a week.”

“A few days more than that.”

“A few minutes of small-talk conversation don’t count. My point is that after last night’s revelations, you should understand that I can’t make you any promises and why I worry you’re going to get hurt, which is the last thing I want.”

Sitting up, his right hand slipped under my hair to cradle my nape. “Then don’t hurt me.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.” His grip tightened. “Michaela, I want every fucked-up, insecure, neurotic, emotional part of you.” Eyes that showed too much hardened with determination. “I just do.” He kissed me, and with his hold on my neck, controlled how. We’d kissed with heat and passion before, but this was dominance. “Deal with it.”

I sucked in a breath. “You said you won’t push!”

“I said this week I wouldn’t ask for more than you can give and I haven’t.”

I glared at him. “You have a funny way of interpreting that.”

“No, sweetheart. There’s what you can give and what you won’t. All you have to do is admit what you want.”

I can’t and I never will. “It’s you I worry about, not me.”

He shook his head. “Stop being a martyr, Michaela.”

“Fuck you.”

He remained unmoved. “We’ll get to that, but not until you’re honest.”

“This is pointless.”

Swiftly, he rolled us, putting me on my back, and tweaked my bare nipples. “I beg to differ.” The action sent a jolt straight to my core, damn him. “I’ll keep you here until Mom opens that door to bring you fresh towels. I’m in no rush.”

“Lincoln, this is insane.”

“Insanity is you trying to give me the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ routine when you know I’m good for you.”

“This is good?” I exclaimed. Said the guy arguing with me while naked.

“You want everything I offer.” He smiled—one of the ones I hadn’t seen him give anyone else. “And I don’t mean physically.”

Yes, I was deliberately being obtuse.

I didn’t want this conversation.

I wanted to put it off until I got home.

Or maybe forever.

Moira’s words rang in my head while he teased my skin with gentle, barely-there caresses from his fingers and lips, waiting me out— are you better with or without him?

“I don’t want to talk about this now,” I said. “The morning started well, remember? You wanted me naked. Let’s go back to that.” His morning wood was still between my thighs.

“Giving me your body isn’t enough for either of us now. You can accept that with as much certainty as the sun setting tonight and rising tomorrow or keep throwing out excuses to delay the inevitable, but it’s not changing. Be honest and I’ll give you what you really want.”

“I don’t care about demands.” Placing my hand on his left pec, I continued, “I’m worried about your heart. I may be inexperienced, but I’m not blind. You’re in deeper than you should be, Lincoln.”

“You like me, too.”

“You know I do. Okay? I’m grateful for this week. But I have to return to real life and all its responsibilities—and so do you. Even if we see each other some in L.A., you leave on tour in April, for what, at least six months?”

He adamantly shook his head. “It’s not scheduled like that. Jake’s not spending that much time away from his family, and now Jen’s due in June. Whatever you throw out, I can counter…time, resources, location, desire…there is no logical reason to let this week be the end. So. Just. Stop.”

Then he kissed me, sending a bolt of heat traveling up my spine until I moaned.

“I hate you,” I said when he let me breathe.

A wide grin split his face. “No you don’t.” His eyes sparkled as his lips returned to mine. Kissing me compliant.

Because I did love how he made my body feel. The rush, the tingles, my curling toes and arching back, and definitely the orgasms. I didn’t know I could feel like this after…everything.

“Do you want to give up how I kiss your neck…?” The same sexy, husky, intimate tone that thrilled me from day one. “Or how I worship your breasts?” For minutes that made me need more right-the-fuck-now. He continued to my waistband. I was happy to shed my bottom layers. “Are you ready to give up my fingers in your pussy?” I moaned along with their entry. Slowly in…slowly out… “You’re beautiful like this. Would you let me photograph you? Print it at home and keep it secret in a drawer forever?”

I dug my feet into the mattress, needing grounding from the rising tide of my approaching orgasm. Foreplay had never been this long before and I was nearly out of my mind. “Please.”

“Please what, Michaela?” His fingers paused.

I opened my eyes. “I need you.”

He sat on his heels between my legs, his steel erection glistening with pre-cum. He removed his fingers from me, lubricated his shaft, and prowled up the bed like a cat. With the head nudging my entrance, he locked eyes with me.

“Do you really want to give up my cock inside you?”

My heart pounding in my ears, I whispered, “No.”

A triumphant smile bloomed on his face as he pushed inside me.

We both moaned.

“You can have this as much as you want, baby. It’s what I keep trying to tell you.”

And he knew what he was doing with his gorgeous body. From the first time, his focus had never been on his pleasure alone, which I couldn’t have known from deciding to go home with the hot guy after a little too much eggnog, so I lucked out. Really lucked out.

He was sweet and good and thoughtful, and if he carried on that way beyond the flush of newness, he’d be an amazing boyfriend.

I never imagined I’d get so vulnerable with anyone again.

Looking into his green eyes, I had to admit one thing. “I will miss you in L.A.,” I whispered.

He smiled tenderly, slowly gliding inside of me with no-rush sex. “Only if you hide from me. I have your number.”

“You don’t know where I live.”

“My friends do.” He kissed below my ear, starting a path of using his teeth, lips, and tongue to make me breathe heavier and my skin heat up.

“True. That’s a pickle.”

“So I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?”

“Agent Carter.”

I moaned as he hit a particularly good spot. “I said I might be willing to watch with you.”

“You and your negotiations.” He swirled his hips. My back arched at the sudden rush of pleasure. “What about now?”

“Maybe.”

He repeated the move. I moaned loudly. “Still wanna hold out?”

“I don’t know what my calen—oh!” Quick, deep thrusts stole my words.

Lazy fucking no more.

“Tuesday?” Lincoln gritted out.

My vagina had tightened on him in response to the new stimulation. But he still wasn’t going fast enough to make me come. “Unh—extortion.”

He grinned. “Exchange.”

“Fine!” Oh god. “Just stop teasing me!”