Chapter 12 #2
He found Emmett on the floor, bussing tables with the same skittishness Lincoln had gotten used to seeing when he was out from behind the bar.
His anxiety made so much more sense to Lincoln, now that he knew how Emmett had been treated in the past. Hated and feared for a heritage he couldn’t control, and a religion damned by many for the actions of a scant few. His Emmett didn’t deserve any of that.
My Emmett.
Despite everything, Lincoln was falling hard and fast for Emmett Westmore/Emilio Sharif. And that, he decided to the tune of a half-decent cover of “Pink Pony Club,” was okay with him.
Lincoln woke the next morning at quarter to eleven, which left him groggy and disoriented.
He’d stayed until Off Beat closed, simply to be near Emmett, even though he’d nearly fallen asleep at the bar twice.
Van had mercy on him and drove him home, so Lincoln could faceplant, and he’d obviously forgotten to set his alarm.
He slogged his way into the kitchen to make coffee, then took a cold shower to wake himself up. He and Emmett were meeting at noon to test out the stage lights, and while accidentally giving himself a migraine didn’t appeal to him, spending the afternoon with Emmett did.
A lot.
Lincoln slurped coffee that was still too hot while he scrolled through recent e-mail messages. One from the clinic stopped him cold. His heart beat more rapidly as he opened the confidential attachment. His fingers trembled as he scanned the test results.
All negative.
“Fuck.” Tears stung his eyes, and he didn’t understand why.
He’d received the best news possible, so why the hell was he crying about it?
Waiting two weeks to finally find out hadn’t been the smartest plan ever, but this was what he wanted.
He wanted to know so things could progress further with Emmett whenever Emmett decided he was ready.
But was Lincoln ready? Something deep inside rebelled at the idea of being that vulnerable again. Of being held down and caged in, unable to make it stop. Or of doing the same thing to Emmett and scaring him. Hurting him.
The thoughts only made him cry harder, and he hated himself for being so weak.
For crying without being sure what he was upset about, and for letting one bad hookup affect his life this much.
He was fucking stronger than this. He had to be stronger than this, so he could be everything Emmett needed in a partner.
His idiotic tears finally subsided. He blew his nose and splashed cold water on his face.
His eyes were red and puffy, but his shades would hide that.
He had no idea how to explain this crying fit to himself, much less Emmett.
Thank fuck Roxy hadn’t been home to witness his meltdown.
She’d have called her mom in for reinforcements—or worse, Dominic.
Lincoln didn’t want anyone involved in this mess. He wanted to forget about it, and now that he knew his results, he could. Shove it aside. Let it be a distant memory. Or better yet, a bad dream. Tom was a phantom from a nightmare, not a real person. Nope.
He poured the rest of his coffee into a to-go mug, found his flip-flops, slung the QChord case over his shoulder, and then headed out for Off Beat, determined not to let that phantom intrude on his day with Emmett.
Emmett paced near the front door of Off Beat, watching through the glass for Lincoln’s approach.
It was too hot and humid to wait outside, and for the first time all summer he started entertaining the idea of wearing shorts instead of jeans.
Maybe the scars weren’t as awful as he thought.
Maybe people wouldn’t point and stare like he expected them to.
No, he wasn’t ready to test that theory yet.
He held the door open for Lincoln, who entered with his shoulders somewhat slumped, his mouth drooping. Emmett locked the door again, a little surprised not to be greeted with a smile and a kiss.
Lincoln doesn’t always have to be the one initiating things, idiot.
Emmett gently grasped the back of Lincoln’s neck, forcing him to look up. He couldn’t see Lincoln’s eyes, but the contact did earn him a small smile. “Hi,” Emmett said.
“Hey.”
He pressed his lips to Lincoln’s for a soft kiss, tasting the barest hint of coffee there. Lincoln surprised him by keeping the kiss chaste and brief. “You okay?”
“Late night, and I overslept,” Lincoln said. “Sorry, I’ll get it together soon.” He held up his travel mug.
“It’s okay, I’ve gotten used to the late nights. I even woke up early, but I think it’s because I’m excited about today. Being with you.”
Lincoln’s smile bloomed into something big and genuine. “Me too.”
“Good. Aunt Beatrice showed me how to use the light board a little while ago, so she’s already left.
” Emmett hadn’t even had to endure a “don’t have sex in my club” lecture from his aunt, and that kind of surprised him.
Besides, he wasn’t certain he’d be able to have sex in the club, and then come back in to work later without blushing all night long.
But with Lincoln standing in front of him, the living personification of sex and desire, Emmett was second-guessing that.
His dick stirred, taking a keen interest in his train of thought, so he pictured the light board instead.
Something totally not sexual. Only Lincoln was still standing there, smiling, smelling like cologne and coffee.
“Let’s get started then,” Lincoln said, no sexy inflections in his voice. A little disappointing, but Lincoln actually taking the stage and playing was important. Unbound was important.
They could flirt later.
The light system shared a small booth with the sound system/VJ equipment, and the settings were a lot simpler than Emmett had expected.
He’d already put a chair center stage for Lincoln, who went directly there and unzipped his instrument case.
Emmett slipped into the booth. The basic floodlights were up, no colors.
He dimmed them a bit, because Lincoln was already frowning at the ceiling.
Emmett turned on the loudspeaker. “How’s the brightness?”
“Not bad.” Lincoln’s voice was hard to hear from the booth. “Forgot how hot it could get up here.”
The AC was down for the day, so yeah, it was going to get warm in the club. He’d forgotten to ask Aunt Beatrice to override the default settings. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.” Lincoln flashed a wicked smile. “If it gets too hot, I can always play naked.”
Heat curled in Emmett’s gut, and it was kind of ridiculous how one flirty comment got him half hard. “Okay, so basic lights. You want to do a song like this before I add in colors?”
“Definitely. I want to baby-step this so I don’t shock my system into a migraine.”
“Understood.” Emmett left the hot booth for the slightly less warm stage. “What are you doing first?”
The heated look Lincoln cast his way suggested someone he wanted to be doing, and Emmett’s jeans weren’t hiding his wood well. “I was thinking something slow to start. ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water.’”
Lincoln was earning serious points by using Simon nothing he could do or think about was going to keep his dick down, not with Lincoln looking at him with so much heat and intent in his eyes.
Lincoln’s skin sparkled with moisture, a combination of sweat and the water bottle.
Things were definitely not cooling off. When Emmett didn’t respond, Lincoln slowly twisted the cap off the bottle and somehow proceeded to make taking two long gulps into a seduction.
From the curl of his lips to the jumping of his Adam’s apple, the entire thing made Emmett lose his mind a little.
His own water forgotten, Emmett reached for Lincoln.
And found himself standing in complete and total darkness as the building’s power went out.