Chapter 35
JULES
“My god. You look so perfect, babe.” There’s reverence in Lincoln’s eyes as he stares at me through the phone screen.
And, babe? Oh my god…He called me ‘babe’. He almost sounds like he means it.
My heart is pounding as I’m propped up here against his pillows. Awareness washes over my skin. I’d almost chickened out a dozen times as I’d slipped into this lacy underwear and locked the bedroom door. As my finger had hovered over the video button, I’d almost changed my mind and ended the call.
But my desire for Lincoln had been too strong.
Because the truth is, I’ve been missing my husband all day.
And, the way he’s looking now? That hunger in his eyes is so damn validating.
It’s scary how much I’m growing to want his approval these days.
It’s terrifying how much time I spend wanting him to want me.
The physical distance between us right now only highlights how incessantly I’ve come to want him around.
“Tell me again that you miss me…” My own words surprise me. Hell—they shock me.
I don’t know what gives me the guts to say that. Maybe it’s the glass of wine I had after dinner. Maybe it’s the hundreds of miles between us that gives me the courage to ask for the words I want to hear. Or maybe it’s the fact that no man has ever cracked me wide open the way Lincoln Raines does.
I’ve built my whole persona around not needing anyone. I’m fiercely independent. I stand on my own feet. That’s what I’m known for.
But with Lincoln, I’m realizing that, risking his rejection is what requires vulnerability. Asking him to see me—to really see me—is what takes courage.
His cheeks seem to pinken when I make the request. He clears his throat.
And for a moment, I fear that he’ll shut me down, remind me that our marriage is a sham, and that I need to keep my silly little fantasies in check.
But then, I watch him settle against his pillows, getting comfortable, and he says, “I miss you, Jules. I’ve missed you all day. ”
I can’t help the smile that tries to creep up on me. I fight my hardest. But I lose.
With the way he’s holding the phone, I can’t see anything past his toned biceps. Still, he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. That tousled hair. Those penetrating eyes. The wide, wide shoulders. He’s quite literally breathtaking.
“What do you miss about me?” I prod him.
“Well, firstly there’s nobody here to give me sass all day,” he says, and I roll my eyes. He laughs. “I missed having dinner with you tonight.” He turns and takes a whiff of the hotel pillow. “And these sheets don’t smell like you.”
I grab a pillow off the bed, bringing it to my nose. “Yeah, the smell of your pillow is what got me through last night,” I confess, feeling a little embarrassed.
Lincoln clears his throat. “Do you…do you miss me, too?”
The pink on his cheeks deepens. He’s blushing. He’s definitely blushing.
“I do,” I murmur my confession, wondering what the hell we’re doing. We’ve so veered off-track of our marriage contract by now.
“Show me how much,” he demands, his voice gravelly and low. “Show me how much you miss me, Troublemaker.”
“How…?” I breathe out, feeling heat rush between my legs. I squeeze them together.
I can see the way Lincoln’s chest widens on each steady inhale. The way his chest contracts when he exhales. He’s getting as worked up as I am. “Touch yourself for me.”
I feel my body flush all over as the tension between us mounts. “Tell me what to do…” I whisper. I swallow. “Will you talk me through it?”
“Hell yeah, baby. I want that.”
I hear myself whimper as my stomach starts to tingle.
His voice is pure velvet and gravel when he asks, “Are you wet, Jules?”
I squirm against the mattress, feeling the slick slide of my pussy lips rubbing together. I nod, knowing my voice will crack if I dare to open my mouth.
“Let me see,” Lincoln commands, his words rumbling dangerously low.
Inching my legs apart, I set a pillow in the space between my knees. Then, I lean my phone against it, offering him a view of my most private area. Lincoln releases a choked groan when I hook a finger into the crotch of my panties and slowly tug the fabric aside.
My wet, engorged pussy appears on the tiny self-view screen of my phone. Trimmed, dark curls and all.
My embarrassment nearly takes over and causes me to slam my legs shut. But when I see Lincoln’s eyelids grow heavy with lust, my confidence renews exponentially.
“Spread, baby.” The soft command rumbles across the line.
Using my fingers, I gently separate my folds, showing him the most intimate part of me. Pink and swollen and dripping.
“You are hands-down the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he growls, as his own hand slides down his chest and disappears off-screen.
“If you’re touching yourself, too, I want to see,” I demand.
A little grin dances across his face. “Your wish. My command.”
After a bit of fumbling and adjusting, my husband is fully naked and his camera is angled to give me a front-row seat to all that male perfection. The shoulders I love to nuzzle against. The biceps that fit so well around me. The abs I want to scale like a rock-climbing wall.
When he makes a tight fist around those nine inches—and a quarter—another wave of heat passes through me. I moan out loud.
Shit. I know the rules. I need to be quiet. Because of Cameron.
I purse my lips together.
“Damn. I wish I could hear you make that sound again. While you’re rubbing your clit,” Lincoln requests.
I follow his instructions. But I slam my forearm over my mouth as another needy sound tries to escape me. My eyes flutter open and close as I watch him jerking himself with increasingly rough strokes on my phone screen.
“Rub it. Back and forth, gorgeous. Nice and slow. That’s it, Jules. Look at you. So beautiful. So fucking perfect,” he encourages me. “Look how wet you are. Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you when I get home?”
“Oh my god, Lincoln,” is my response. “Tell me.”
“I’m going to get on my knees and I’m going to bury my face between your legs and I won’t stop licking you until you’ve come at least three times on my tongue.”
His praise and his promises get me all worked up. I’m coiled so tight, I feel like I might break.
I need relief now.
“I can’t go slow anymore,” I hear myself say in desperation, my hand picking up speed. “I want…I want…” I fail to complete a coherent sentence. I dissolve into nothing but quiet, desperate panting and whining.
“Don’t hold back,” Lincoln says to me as he jerks himself faster, the repeated slapping sounds of his fist meeting his pelvis filling the air. “I can’t hold back any longer. Don’t hold back."
I feel a delicious tension from my hair follicles all the way down to my toenails. The muscles of my thighs pull tight like elastic bands.
I turn my face into his pillow and his scent fills all my senses. I gasp his name. “Lincoln…”
“Jules…” he echoes back desperately.
And when I hear him say my name, I just snap.
A detonation goes off inside my spine. Fireworks explode in my field of vision. I bite back the scream clawing its way up my throat.
Time stops.
I go slack against the mattress as a post-orgasmic calmness spreads through my limbs. When my eyes finally come back into focus, I look down at my screen and find Lincoln looking at me.
His skin is flushed. A layer of sweat has settled on his brow, matting his hair to his forehead. There’s a huge mess on his lower abdomen.
Yet still, a lazy contented smile spreads across his face. He runs a hand through his messy hair. “Damn. That was…beautiful.”
I smile, too. “Yeah. Beautiful.”
So is the man staring at me from my telephone screen.
He’s nothing like the guarded, uptight asshole I’d determinedly built a fortress against just a few weeks ago. This version of Lincoln is free, generous, open. This is a version of him I could like. A version I already do like, although I’m not too sure I can admit it to myself.
We both work to regain a normal breathing pattern. Then eventually, Lincoln gingerly rolls out of bed and pads into the bathroom to clean up. I do the same, ambling into the ensuite and wiping up with a warm, damp rag.
I climb back beneath the sheets, pulling them up to my chin. I return the extra pillow to the empty space beside me. The space where my husband should be laying tonight. Lincoln rolls onto his side, positioning his extra pillow next to his head and propping the phone up against it.
When I angle my own phone just right, he and I are at eye-level. It’s almost like he’s in bed here with me. Almost.
For a moment, we just lie here and smile at each other.
Then my eyes begin to grow heavy and my lids flutter.
“Jules…” he says just as I begin to lose the battle against my tiredness.
“Yeah…?” I murmur.
“I want you to understand that I don’t regret one minute that I’ve ever spent with you. In fact, each time we’re apart, I find myself wanting more time with you.”
I smile against my pillow. “Clingy, clingy, clingy…” I mumble, trying to act nonchalant, even as my heart fills to the point of spilling over.
He chuckles. “You could say so.”
I should tell him that I feel the exact same way. I really should tell him. But my pride won’t let me cross that line.
“Good night, my beautiful wife…” I hear him whisper as my eyes finally shut and sleep pulls me under.