Chapter 17 Lincoln
LINCOLN
The thought of someone else touching her—seeing her— right now sends a wave of something hot and unwelcome racing through me.
I grit my teeth as I lower myself back to the bathroom floor beside the little puddle of blood she’s created.
Keeping my eyes focused on the first-aid box, I flip it open and rummage through to find what I need.
“Or anyone more qualified to be digging around in my flesh,” Parker continues, pushing the knife a little deeper.
“I’ve got it,” I mutter, my voice sharper than I was hoping for. “Just…let me fix you up.”
Wisely, she keeps her mouth shut as I rip open a wipe and begin cleaning her up so I can get a better look at the situation.
It soon becomes clear that I was right: she’s got glass in her foot.
The need to chastise her for being thoughtless enough to walk around the city barefoot is almost too much to deny, but somehow, I manage to keep it inside.
I’m in a great position to be kicked in the face here, and I’m already carrying one more injury than I’d like right now.
“Do you have any tweezers?” I ask when I fail at moving the shard, so I can grab it.
“In my toiletry bag,” she says, nodding toward a floral bag on the other end of the counter.
Walking over, I open it up and instantly feel like I’m violating her privacy when I’m greeted with tampons.
I still, and she giggles behind me.
“Problem?” Parker asks, sounding way too amused for my liking.
Look, I love women. I think they’re fucking incredible, and their bodies…
mind-blowing. But seeing as I’m a fuck-it-and-chuck-it kind of guy, I’ve never really experienced periods or everything that comes with it.
I was already at college when my sister, Nova, hit that part of her life, and I escaped it there, too.
However, I am more than familiar with her hormonal mood swings.
Suddenly, the need to know more surges through me. When is Parker due? What symptoms does she get and what does she like to do to make herself feel better? Hot water bottle? Chocolate? Snuggle in bed with trashy TV?
I shake my head, wondering where the hell that came from. I’ve certainly never considered it with any other woman I’ve spent time with.
Why does it suddenly matter?
Because it’s Parker.
Tweezers.
I came here for tweezers.
Without responding, I rummage through the sanitary products, on a mission to find what I came here for.
The second I locate them, I pull them free and return to my previous position, kneeling at Parker’s dangling feet.
I can’t lie, I’ve thought about being here numerous times over the years, although there were never bloody feet and first-aid kits involved.
Thoughtlessly, my eyes drift up her calf before continuing up her thigh.
Her dress is short and stops just an inch before I’d like it to.
What color are her panties?
“Lincoln,” she snaps, dragging me back to the moment. “If you can’t finish the job, go and find someone who will.”
“I always finish the job, Parker,” I state before getting back to the task at hand.
“Ow, fuck,” Parker squeals as I pull the glass free.
“Christ. Didn’t that hurt to walk on?” I ask, staring at the bloody shard that’s a lot bigger than I was expecting.
“Why the hell do you think I was limping?” she quips.
Shaking my head at her, I place the glass on a Kleenex before cleaning the wound again and bandaging her up.
“You’re going to feel that in the morning.”
“Wonderful,” she mutters as I clean up.
Once I have everything put away, I sit back on my haunches and stare up at her.
Her fingers are curled around the edge of the counter, her knuckles white with her tight grip.
Once again, my attention shifts to her thighs; only with my new position, I can see all the way.
Black.
They’re black.
“You can leave now,” she snaps, ensuring my attention jumps to her face.
She’s exhausted.
Any joy from earlier has drained from her now. Her eyes are heavy; her shoulders slumped.
“I’m not leaving you sitting up there.”
“I’m more than capable of looking after myself,” she argues, earning her an “oh really” look from me. “I stood on one piece of glass accidentally. I’m not a child who needs putting to bed, Linc. I’m a fully grown adult who, before this week, lived alone without drama.”
“What if I like looking after you?” I blurt before I can think better of it.
“Then you need to have a good word with yourself because I don’t need or want it.”
Her words sting, but I refuse to let her see that.
“Please just let me help you to bed, then I’ll go.”
“I need to take my makeup off.”
Looking back toward her toiletries, I spot a packet of face wipes and quickly grab them.
“Here. Do your thing.”
She stares at them before glaring up at me.
“You’re a pain in my ass, Storm.”
“I think the words you’re looking for are thank you.”
“Mmm,” she hums as she wipes her face.
“Anything else?”
“Everything else.”
I glance back at all the products I’ve never heard of.
“I need to double cleanse, then serum and—”
“Okay, okay,” I say digging out each bottle and watching as she meticulously works her way through each one.
“Teeth?” I finally ask, locating her toothbrush and toothpaste when it looks like her routine might be coming to an end.
She nods, and after helping her slide closer to the sink, I stand in the doorway, watching like a creep.
The second she’s done, I hand her a towel to wipe her mouth before lifting her from the counter.
“This isn’t necessary,” she argues, wriggling in my hold.
“You’d rather hop to bed?” I ask with a laugh.
“Do you have to look so smug?” she sulks.
“Smug? I was going for sexy.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble.”
“Pajamas?” I ask once I’ve placed her on the edge of the bed.
Her eyes shoot toward her suitcase, which is at least double the size of mine for this short trip.
“I can take it from here,” she assures me.
I want to argue, but I figure I’ve probably already overstayed my welcome. Not that I’m sure I was ever really welcome in the first place.
Reluctantly, I take a step back.
“Okay,” I concede. “But message if you need anything. I’m not far away.”
“I’ll be fine.”
With a nod, and one final look at her, I spin around and move toward the door.
She shuffles around behind me, but I keep my focus ahead and try not to think about what she’s doing.
I have my fingers wrapped around the handle when her voice hits my ears and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Linc?” she asks quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Could you…um…”
At her hesitation, I spin around and find her with her back to me.
“Could you unzip me?”
A heavy breath rushes past my lips as I think about undressing her.
“Of course,” I say, hoping like hell it doesn’t sound as enthusiastic as I feel.
Stalking forward, I stop just a beat from her body, close enough that her heat burns down my front and her sweet scent fills my nose.
I went out earlier to get some fresh air, but I think deep down, what I really needed was this.
Reaching out, I pinch the zipper between my thumb and forefinger and begin pulling it down.
The sound fills the air, and I pray it’s loud enough to hide my increased breathing.
Inch after inch of pale skin appears before me.
She isn’t wearing a bra.
Unable to stop myself, I let my finger slip behind the fabric, allowing my knuckle to graze her skin.
The second we connect, she shudders and goose bumps erupt across her skin.
I take in every mole and freckle I discover until I hit the bottom, right above her ass.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her breathing almost as labored as mine.
“I’ll undress you any time, Donnelly. All you need to do is ask.”
“Goodnight, Storm.”
At the dismissal, I take a step back.
“And…thank you.”
A wide smile pulls at my lips.
“You’re welcome, Little P. If either your foot or your body needs redressing in the morning, you just let me know.”
She chuckles but doesn’t say anything, and this time, when I walk away, I do so backward so I can continue getting my fill of her.
My breath catches when she drops her dress. The top half falls, but sadly, it catches on her hips, so I don’t get a shot of her in just her panties.
“I thought you were leaving,” she shoots over her shoulder, aware of my lingering attention.
“I am. Going right now,” I say, as I blindly search for the handle behind me.
“Great,” she says, pulling an oversized T-shirt over her head. “And anyway, it’s not like you haven’t seen them before.”
Her words are like a slap upside the head, and it only gets worse when I discover the T-shirt she’s pulled on is one of Rett’s.
His name and number are impossible to miss on the back as she shimmies her dress down, letting it drop to her ankles.
Your best friend’s little sister.
And yeah, I have seen her tits before. They’re the things dreams are fucking made of.
“Goodnight, Little P,” I finally say as I pull the door open.
“Night, Linc. Be a good boy and go and ice that leg.”
A self-deprecating laugh falls from my lips as I force myself to walk away, images I don’t need in high definition in my head.
In six years, she’s never said even a word about what happened that night.
Honestly, I thought she’d forgotten.
But maybe she hasn’t.
And maybe, just maybe, she’s suddenly thinking about it again.
Or maybe I’m just crazy and reading into things I shouldn’t be.
The room next door is in darkness when I silently slip inside. I’m hardly surprised; it’s late, and Kodie has a game tomorrow.
I should have a game tomorrow…
Shutting myself in the bathroom, I come to a stop in front of the sink and rest my hands on the counter.
With my eyes closed, I replay the events of tonight over in my head. Only as I get to the part where I unzip Parker’s dress, my imagination begins to take over.
Rett’s shirt doesn’t exist, and when she dropped her dress to the floor, there wasn’t anything covering the small lace G-string she was wearing.
And when she spoke, it wasn’t to say goodnight but to call me back over.
Shamelessly, I shove my sweats and boxers to my knees, letting my hard dick spring free.
A groan spills from my lips as I wrap my hand around myself and stroke from root to tip.
Closing my eyes, I focus on her, on the dip of her waist and the fullness of her hips and ass.
My hand moves faster as I think about stepping up behind her and gripping those full tits.
She sighs, leaning back against me as I pinch her hard nipples.
“You like that, babe?”
“More, Linc. Please.”
I work myself harder, faster, as I picture my hand sliding down her stomach and into her panties, finding out just how wet she is for me.
“Soaked,” I groan in her ear as she coats my fingers.
“All for you. It’s always for you.”
Tingles erupt at the base of my spine as my release approaches.
“Get on the bed. Hands and knees, and drag your panties aside. I want to see that pretty pussy.”
It has to be a fantasy because Parker immediately follows orders and crawls onto the bed.
The moment she exposes herself to me, I come.
It hits me hard and fast, but as my cum drips to the floor, I discover it’s nowhere near enough to even take the edge off.
I need more.
I need…
Things I can’t have.