Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
Erika
“ T hat’s the suit you’re wearing?” I asked, watching as Lincoln pulled a sleek gray suit from the master bedroom closet, his movements fluid and confident.
He glanced at me, a playful glint in his eyes. “Do you like it?”
I tilted my head, considering. “I think it’s nice. What shirt?”
“You pick,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips as he swatted my ass lightly, making me yelp in surprise. I was dressed in one of his white t-shirts that barely covered my black lace thong, and his touch sent a spark of heat through me. I shot him a mock glare before heading into the closet.
I rifled through his collection of dress shirts, finally settling on a lavender one that would complement the gray suit perfectly. Pulling it out, I turned to him with a grin. “How about this?”
Lincoln raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. Nothing turns me on more than a man confident enough to wear a feminine color.”
He chuckled, his voice low and teasing. “Really? Maybe I should go all out and wear a pink suit.”
I rolled my eyes, walking over to him. “Elliott, you turn me on no matter what color you wear.”
He gave me a heated look, his gaze dropping to my lips. “You’re making me hard,” he murmured, his hand slipping to his crotch to adjust himself. The outline of his growing erection was visible through his black boxers, the sight making my pulse quicken.
“Sex again?” I asked, arching an eyebrow in mock disapproval.
“Keep that naughty talk up, and I won’t be able to resist,” he warned, his voice a low growl.
I smirked, turning back to the closet. “Let me pick your tie.”
I spun the tie caddy, watching it whirl around until I found the perfect match—a black tie with a subtle check pattern. Pulling it out, I held it up to him. “This one. You’re going to be off the charts on the yummy scale—an eleven, at least.”
Lincoln snorted, shaking his head. “Erika, that is so fucking silly.”
I stuck my tongue at him. “It’s funny.”
Before I could react, he closed the distance between us, pulling me into his arms and lifting the back of my t-shirt to palm my ass. His hands were warm and firm, and I shivered as he squeezed me closer.
“Do you really have to go out tonight?” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear.
I sighed, resisting the urge to melt into him. “It’s a bachelorette party, Elliott. Of course, I need to go out.”
He groaned, nuzzling my neck. “You need to stay home with me.”
“You dominate enough of my time,” I teased, running my fingers through his hair. “Morgan is a nervous wreck, and she needs me to help her unwind. It’s just drinks and dancing.”
“What is poor old Lincoln supposed to do without you all night?” he pouted, his tone half-serious.
“Wait for me,” I said, a mischievous smile tugging at my lips. “I’ll come home all sweaty and sexed up.”
“Mmm, I love when you’re all sweaty and sexed up,” he rumbled, his voice thick with desire. But then his brows furrowed, suspicion creeping into his gaze. “Why would you be all sexed up?”
“All those bodies moving together on the dance floor,” I said, letting the words drip with suggestion. “It’s totally arousing.”
His grip on me tightened, possessiveness flashing in his eyes. “Now I want to go.”
I pulled back just enough to frown at him. “Don’t you dare. This is a girl’s night out. I don’t need you cramping my style.”
He growled playfully, digging his nails lightly into my bare ass before lifting me effortlessly in his arms. “No one touches you,” he said, his voice a mix of playful and deadly serious.
“Suppose someone asks me to dance?” I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“You say no. This is why I want a ring on your finger,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I laughed, shaking my head. “You think that would stop men? You know how many married men have hit on me? Plenty. Rings don’t mean shit.”
His expression darkened, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “That doesn’t make me feel any more secure.”
“You have nothing to be insecure about, and it sounds like you don’t trust me,” I said softly, my tone turning serious.
“I do trust you,” he insisted, setting me down gently on the floor. “I don’t trust other men around you.”
“Elliott, you sound ridiculous,” I murmured, leaning into him and resting my cheek against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat against my ear was oddly comforting. “I know who I want, and it’s not other men.”
“Good,” he said, his voice gruff but relieved as he wrapped his arms around me. “Never,” I whispered, tightening my hold on him. “Face it, you’re stuck with me as long as you behave.”
“Behave? How so?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look down at me, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
“As long as you stay on the straight and narrow,” I said, poking him playfully in the chest. “No outbursts or jealous streaks.”
“I’ll do my best,” he promised, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But you make it hard to be anything but possessive.”
“I hope not,” he said as he gently put me down on the floor. I hugged him around his waist, putting my cheek against his chest. I could hear his heart speeding along and it comforted me that I excited him.
“Jealousy will never leave me where you’re concerned, even if we’re married. You’re mine,” Lincoln said, his voice a rough whisper as he gazed down at me, his grip on my waist tightening possessively.
“And you’re possessive,” I shot back, though the heat in his eyes sent a thrill through me.
His lips curled into a dangerous smile. “When I see what I want, I do whatever it takes for it to be mine.”
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pull of desire he always seemed to ignite in me. “I need to go home and get ready for tonight.”
Lincoln’s eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his usually confident demeanor. “Can I come?”
“To do what?” I asked, meeting his gaze as I arched an eyebrow.
“Just to be with you,” he said, the raw honesty in his voice catching me off guard.
I hesitated, feeling the weight of his stare. “I’m only taking a shower and then heading over to Morgan’s to get dressed.”
“You can say no,” he murmured, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, “as long as you come back here after.”
“I told you I would,” I assured him, trying to ignore the unease twisting in my stomach.
“Use the key I gave you,” he insisted, his eyes searching mine. “I might be asleep by the time you get back.”
Two days ago, Lincoln had handed me a key to his place, a gesture that had sent a jolt of uncertainty through me. It felt too soon, too intimate—especially since I hadn’t given him a key to mine. I was ready to try again with him, but I wasn’t ready to open my life completely, to let him come and go as he pleased.
“I will,” I promised, though my voice was softer, hesitant. “But it could be 2 or 3 in the morning.”
“I don’t care what time it is,” he said, his tone firm.
“I might smell gross,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
He cocked his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I doubt it. You always smell fantastic.”
“It’s because you love me,” I replied, my voice teasing. “You don’t care.”
“It’s not about the smell,” he said, his voice growing serious. “I love the person you are.”
“Are you saying I can be a smelly slob and you’d still love me?” I challenged, tilting my head to look up at him.
“Nope,” he said with a grin, “but I don’t think it’s possible. Even without perfume or deodorant, you still smell delicious—good enough to eat.”
He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, the tender gesture making my heart skip a beat. I knew if we stayed this close, things would escalate quickly—sex would be on the table, or more likely, I would be on the table. Reluctantly, I pulled away, knowing I had to leave.
Lincoln’s eyes darkened as he watched me toss his t-shirt onto the bed and reach for my bra. His gaze roamed up my legs, lingering on my bare breasts, making my skin prickle with heat.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I said, trying to sound stern as I fastened my bra.
“Why?” he challenged, his voice low and hungry.
“Because,” I replied, zipping up my skirt, trying to focus on anything other than the way he was devouring me with his eyes.
“That’s not an answer,” Lincoln said, sitting down on the edge of the unmade bed, his gaze never leaving me.
“I don’t have to explain it,” I shot back, slipping on a gray silk blouse.
He sighed, leaning back on his hands. “I still hate that you’re going out tonight.”
“It’s a Thursday. The club won’t be crowded,” I said, adjusting the buttons on my blouse.
“It’s summer in Manhattan,” he countered dryly. “Clubs are always packed.”
I rolled my eyes, slipping on my black heels. “Get over it, Elliott. I’ll be back in no time.”
“Bullshit,” he muttered, his tone edged with frustration. “I’ll be bored as fuck while you’re gone.”
“You need a hobby,” I said, turning to face him.
“I have a hobby,” he quipped, standing up and closing the distance between us.
“Then do it,” I challenged, crossing my arms.
“It concerns you,” he replied quickly, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Sex with me is not a hobby,” I shot back, though a smile tugged at my lips.
“No, but it’s my favorite activity,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he moved closer.
I shook my head, trying to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. But before I could say anything, he was right in front of me, his hands on my hips, his body pressing into mine.
“Don’t even,” I warned, my voice breathy.
“I want a kiss before you leave,” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Christ, you act like I’m going on a long trip,” I muttered, but the way he was looking at me made my heart race.
“Any time apart feels like years,” he said, tilting my head up with his fingers under my chin. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
His lips crashed against mine, and I melted into the kiss, my hands instinctively winding around his neck. His hand left my face to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, sending a jolt of desire through me. The heat that had been simmering between us flared to life, making me want to call Morgan and tell her I’d be late. But I made a promise.
“Stop it,” I said, pulling away with a shaky breath. “I have to go.”
Lincoln sighed, his frustration palpable. “I’ll just have to nurse my sorrows with a glass of whiskey.”
“Not too much,” I warned, heading down the hall. But before I could reach the door, he was there, gently pushing me against it, my front pressed into the cool wood.
“I’ll be here, ready and waiting for you when you get back,” he whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.
My pulse quickened as he turned me around, his mouth capturing mine in a searing kiss. My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at the thick strands as I kissed him back with equal fervor. When he finally pulled away, his blue eyes were dark with desire, his breathing heavy.
“Get the hell out of here before I make you late for your party,” he growled, though his lips were curved into a wicked grin.
I giggled, feeling lightheaded and completely under his spell. “Convince me,” I teased.
Lincoln raised his eyebrows, his voice a low, seductive rumble. “Go, Erika,” he ordered, his tone laced with both desire and warning.
“I’m going,” I said, backing away with a smile. “Be ready for me when I come back tonight.”
You can bet your sexy ass I will be,” he promised, his gaze never leaving mine as I finally opened the door and stepped out.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I whined, my voice tinged with frustration as Morgan slipped into a sleek, sleeveless black dress. She looked absolutely stunning, her long, glossy black hair cascading down her back and her green-hazel eyes shimmering with a hint of mischief. I couldn’t help but wonder if Slade knew just how lucky he was.
“What’s the problem?” Morgan asked, wrestling her hair out of the dress’s neckline.
“Relationships. That’s my problem,” I confessed, feeling the weight of the issue press down on me.
Morgan raised an eyebrow as she adjusted the straps of her dress. “Cut the shit. If Lincoln is anything like Michael…”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “If Lincoln is like Michael, what?”
“If he loves as fiercely as Michael,” she said, her voice softer now, almost wistful.
I studied her face, searching for the truth. “Morgan, I love you, and I want what’s best for you. Are you still in love with Michael?”
She sat down on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Part of me will always love him, but I’m marrying Slade.”
“That’s not what I asked,” I pressed, my concern growing.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “I’m still in love with him, but it’s a moot point now.”
“Have you had any contact with him since he came back?” I asked, my voice steady.
“Just once when he returned,” she said, her eyes avoiding mine.
I watched her carefully, noting the subtle shift in her expression. “I don’t believe you. Have you been seeing him on the side?”
Morgan’s face darkened, and she frowned. “Are you accusing me of cheating on Slade?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” I reassured her, reaching out to grasp her hand. “Just tell me.”
“No,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly. “I only saw him once… well, twice, but that was months ago.”
“And the second time?” I pressed.
“It was nothing. It was at my apartment,” she admitted, her gaze dropping to her lap. “He tried to touch me.”
“Tried to touch you?” I echoed, feeling a pang of concern. “Why do I have to pull these things out of you?”
“Because they’re embarrassing,” Morgan said, her voice barely above a whisper. “He makes me weak.”
I took her delicate hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “If you have any reservations about marrying Slade, you need to speak up.”
She pulled her hand away, her expression resolute. “I have none. I love Slade, and in two short days, he’s going to be my husband. Michael is my past.”
“Do you want him to be?” I asked, a hint of desperation in my voice.
“Of course, or I would’ve made a move, not waited until the last minute,” she said, her tone defensive but tinged with sadness.
“I just want you to be happy,” I said, my voice softening.
“What about you?” Morgan countered, her gaze shifting to me.
“I’m happy,” I said, though doubt laced my words. “But Lincoln is pushing me for a major commitment.”
“Sounds like an Elliott,” Morgan said with a hint of a smile.
“There is something about him,” I said, trailing off. “He reminds me…”
Morgan finished my thought, “Of him? Have you told Lincoln about Foster?”
Christ. Foster Black was my past. Our love was intense, and he hurt me. It added to the already open wound from my parents’ relationship. He tore my heart to shreds, and it took me a long time to recover and I’m not sure if I ever got over him. I just put him out of my mind.
“No,” I said quickly, my voice firm. “And I won’t. It was a long time ago and a mistake.”
“But it was part of your history,” she said gently. “Don’t you want to share that with him?”
“It was fleeting and irrelevant now,” I insisted. “I don’t want to dredge it up.”
“Do you know where he is?” Morgan asked, her curiosity piqued.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” I said, a shiver running down my spine. “If I stayed with him, he would’ve ruined me.”
“Not all men are like him,” Morgan said reassuringly. “Lincoln doesn’t seem like Foster.”
“In some respects, he is,” I said, my voice low. “He’s possessive and pushy.”
“Lincoln loves you,” Morgan said with certainty. “It’s not hard to love you.”
I leaned my head on her shoulder, feeling the comfort of her presence. Thinking about my past always made me sick. I had been young and naive when Foster came along and Morgan was the one who got me through the breakup.
“I know he does,” I said quietly, “but there’s always that small blinking light in the back of my mind telling me to be careful.”
“It will go away once you find the right man,” Morgan said confidently.
“Is there such a thing?” I asked, doubt coloring my voice.
“I’m sure there is, since I found him,” she said with a hopeful smile.
“You found two of them,” I replied, a teasing note in my voice. “Michael is wonderful, too.”
“You don’t know him,” she said, shaking her head.
“I know him enough through Lincoln,” I said with a shrug.
Morgan sighed, standing up and adjusting her dress. “We should get moving. Jane and Sandra are meeting us at Surge.”
“Cecily isn’t coming?” I asked, trying to shift my focus.
“She has a late meeting. It is Thursday, you know,” Morgan said with a knowing glance.
“I’m aware,” I said, grabbing my purse.
Jane and Sandra were old friends from high school, and Cecily had shared a suite with us during our first two years of college. All of us were in Morgan’s bridal party. As we finished our makeup, I decided to put my hair up, realizing it would be more practical for dancing. I hadn’t been to Surge since I met Lincoln there, and I was eager to let loose and dance again.