Chapter Twenty-Four
Bells and Belles
Ebony
Five red lights.
That was how many it took before I started paying attention to my mood on the drive back to Linc’s house.
Now, maybe it was just my philosophizing and projecting into the universe, but this overwhelming sense of calm hit me.
Like, Stop, Ebony! Pause for a minute, revel in this peace, and step into your power.
Even if it’s for only the thirty seconds—or two excruciatingly long minutes, if you catch the light off Peach Vine Avenue and Peach Vine Road.
Just breathe a sigh of relief. I know what the hell I want, and this job will be over tomorrow.
In my mind, that’s cause to celebrate.
So that’s what I do.
At the next yellow light, I slow at the intersection, skipping right over my Calming Water Sounds playlist. Instead, I crank up the volume on Melanin Magic and roll down all the windows, letting the sweet September Georgia air rush into my car.
And as I gaze at the bursts of orange and purple smudged across the sky, I yell out, “ One more day! ”
One more day until the wedding events are over.
One more day until I finally escape all the exes—ex-monster-in-law, ex-husband, ex-best-friend—in exchange for more o-o- oooooh s.
One more day until I’ll finally get to just be with Linc, free to plan a future together.
A chill skitters across my skin, and I suck in a breath, my mind racing as the light changes and I speed through the intersection. Again, I think about closing this chapter and stepping into something new with Linc—how celebrating together is the perfect way to honor this shift.
That’s all I can think of as I burst through the door and rush to Linc, finding him at the stove in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, cooking for me.
A vase of red dahlias sits on the island, a “Congratulations” balloon tied to it.
I can’t get my heels and coat off fast enough.
I make a beeline for him and take a running leap into his arms, and he catches me.
“Hi,” I say.
Amusement crinkles in his stormy gray eyes as I wrap my legs around his waist, linking ankles behind his back, my hands on his neck.
His are roaming all over my skin. “Welcome home.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, and I can’t hold back another second.
Kissing him feels like breathing.
I inhale, filling my lungs with his comforting, familiar scent—zesty, fresh soap, sweet air, and home. I hold it, letting my body absorb him before exhaling. All the tension in me melts away into his solid chest.
For a moment, we’re still, letting our bodies reset. Then we fall into our rhythm. We’re a mess of ragged breaths and jerky movements, knocking into cabinets as he fumbles to turn off the fire before we burn the house down.
“You weren’t kidding about starving, huh?” In one solid swipe, he clears space on the island, lifting me up onto the cool, smooth surface. “Is this a thing? Like, do rehearsal dinners usually make you—”
“Ravenous? Excited? Horny? ”
Linc chuckles. “Wow, all of that?”
“ Mm-hmm . Oh, yeah ,” I say, laughing into the kiss. “Nothing like processional music on repeat and knowing that in less than twenty-four hours, this project will be complete. So hot!”
Linc glides his hands up my calves, slowing along my inner thighs until his fingers reach the thin fabric of my panties, and my entire body pulses with need.
For a beat, he pulls back, searching my eyes, the anticipation beyond intense.
“So, we’re celebrating?” His voice drops, turning hard and tortured as he slips two fingers inside my panties, no doubt finding me wet and slick with heat. “Oh, dear God… ”
“Mm-hmm. If you want to,” I say, slipping my hands underneath his shirt, physically overwhelmed by how badly I need to feel him moving inside me. “Hard and fast, no holding back…”
He shifts his gaze to mine, and heat swarms my body. “Yeah?”
I nod so many times, I feel like I’m glitching. My heart jackhammers against my ribs, my hips grind against him of their own accord, and it’s so surreal—almost like an out-of-body-experience.
“Baby, I wanted to last tonight.” Linc grabs my hips roughly, stilling them in place, but it only turns me on more. His huge hand unyielding, his fingers flex into my aching skin, taking control of me. It feels so amazing.
I close my eyes, my lips parted, arching into his hand until I feel like I might come undone, and ohhhhh…
“Please,” I whisper. I don’t want to think. I don’t say that part aloud. I keep it locked in my head with all the other things I’m dying to say to him but haven’t found the words for. “Sorry, wait…”
Linc stops and slowly pulls back, searching my eyes, so sweet and amazing—which only makes me want to cry more.
Lately, being this close to Linc does this to me.
One minute, I’m having fun, teasing, kissing, and pondering how I can inject orgasmic fireworks into our celebration. The next, my emotions intrude on the moment, their mere arrival disrupting the flow. And suddenly, there’s an awkward silence and forced small talk, making everything uncomfortable.
Just because I finally know what I want, there’s no guarantee that Linc wants the same thing. Not by a long shot.
And what if those red lights weren’t telling me to pause and celebrate? What if they were signs to stop with all this romanticizing and carrying on because I’m not a teenager, and this isn’t a fairytale?
So I keep the words buried inside, and smile, letting my hands say what my mouth can’t—yet.
“Baby, is there anything you want to tell me?” Linc asks. “Did something happen today?”
I want to tell him that this isn’t just love for me. I’m deeply in love, and all I think about is spending my life with him, in his house or my condo, or traveling the world together. I don’t care—as long as forever starts now.
But I can’t say any of that yet and risk what we’ve just started building together.
So, instead, I say again, “Please… I’m ready now,” letting it spill out on a whimper, begging Linc to help me stay in this moment with him.
As if he’s somehow able to understand what I need based on that simple phrase, Linc drags my panties down, letting them fall to the floor.
He kisses me with all the hunger I feel.
Then he skates his lips over my chin, lower to my neck, and behind my ear, lingering on the sensitive skin, relishing in my tiny moans.
As he curves a hand to my ass, scooting me to the edge of the counter with his other hand, he tugs at his sweatpants, already hard, palming himself shaft to tip.
A thrill shoots through me, my body aching for him.
His voice is low and husky in my ear as he whispers, “Let me celebrate you.” He begs me to tell him what I need, and I can’t catch my breath.
Warmth blooms in my belly. Then he’s settling between my thighs, pressing his dick into me, slowly gliding deeper until the friction is so delicious, it steals his breath, too.
“Fuck.” He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth as if against the mind-numbing sensation. And I relish his holding me like this for a while, his face buried in my neck, his warm breaths lulling our tangled bodies into submission.
A vibrating sensation zips through me, sending pleasure sizzling down my spine. I’m breathless and panting. And then I let lust take over.
It surges deep, consuming me as I lift my hips, urging him deeper still. Then he slides his strong hands under my knees, opening my legs wider, his long strokes driving deeper, and it’s exactly what I want.
His mouth on me.
His hands on me.
His dick filling me completely until I fall apart.
Nothing about the way we make love is sweet or tentative. It’s rough and passionate, like he needs me to feel all the longing bottled up in his chest.
I lie back on my elbows, arching into his thrusts until my hips buck, pleasure coiling tighter. My sex clenches around him, my body unraveling in a mess of ragged moans and short-circuited nerve endings.
And still he thrusts again, over and over, drawing out my orgasm until his body turns taut and trembling, and he shudders over me.
We stay like this for a moment, clinging to each other, my pussy contracting around his pulsing dick, every fiery ember of waning friction lulling our bodies from the edge.
“Baby, you all right?” He chuckles, spent and smiling against my stomach, still catching his breath.
“Mm-hmm.”
Linc’s head pops up, and for a moment he studies my face, searching my eyes. Then, without a word, he gathers me up in his arms and carries me to his bed.
He lies down beside me, silent, just staring, waiting. Without words, he’s saying, As long as it takes …
“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you.” I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves to pour my heart out to Lincoln Bridges. “But first, I need you to promise that you’ll respect my request.”
“Anything,” he says, tenderly, and I almost backpedal.
“Let’s just say that finalizing the wedding isn’t the only thing I’m celebrating,” I start off vaguely. “I finally know what I want—and it’s you.”
Linc opens his mouth to speak, but I press a finger to his lips, silently telling him I need to get this out uninterrupted.
He kisses my fingertip, then props his head on his elbow, giving me his full attention.
“And not to just be with you, Linc,” I continue, diving into the deep end. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my last name, and, uh, I sort of tried yours on for size.”
His handsome face lights up, and it’s the most adorable thing in the world when he clutches his chest.
Be still, my heart…
“I’m not done,” I chastise him, playfully.
Linc pantomimes locking his lips and throwing away the key, and it must be killing him not to be able to pester me for the results of the name fitting. It’s no wonder I’m traipsing around here all with my libido all hot and cold, Night of the Living Sour Patch Kids on him.
Pause, peace, power.