Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Georgia/ Seven Years Ago
T here’s sweat sticking to a very naked, very muscular torso that I’ve become well acquainted with over the past two months. Two whole months of… that . Tall. Lean. Tan. How can somebody be that tan when it’s not even July yet? It’s not fair.
If Millie were still my friend, she’d say I’m dickstruck. In my defense, she would be too if she saw Lincoln shirtless and mowing his lawn. But she’s not around. And based on the light online stalking I did using the account with a fake name that she helped me set up years ago, Millie isn’t exactly torn up over our ended friendship. She’s out partying with college girls who are the exact opposite of me. Does she even wonder how I’m doing? This is the longest we haven’t spoken, and the pictures and videos of her dancing and laughing don’t make it seem like she’s as hurt by that as I am.
My father never liked her from the day they met at the country club, complaining to Leani as soon as we got into our car to leave that her parents didn’t discipline her enough. “A girl like that will be nothing but trouble.”
Maybe he was onto something.
Forcing the thought of my former best friend out of my head, I focus back on the muscles of Lincoln’s arms flexing as he pushes the mower along the small section of grass in front of the building. His abs look fake, but I know firsthand they’re not. I’ve touched them. Maybe even licked them. Once.
Or twice.
The man outside has been coming home looking exhausted every weekend but still seeing family and friend and making time for me. He stays up to watch shows I know he hates, takes me out to dinner, and covers the bill without a second thought. I haven’t figured out if the motive has to do with what happens between us behind closed doors, but I’m not mad at it.
Lincoln is attractive. I’d thought so from the moment he sat down next to me at the bar. I could feel his eyes on me leading up to him making a move, and I tried not to notice that he was beautiful in a rugged kind of way. Manly. Unapologetically so. But the time he’s spent training at the academy has made him leaner, his muscles more defined, and his features sharper.
I shouldn’t be staring.
Nope.
I step back from the curtain I’ve been peeking out, biting my lip. How could somebody who looks like that not have been scooped up by now? He said he never struggled to find interested women, so why me?
The train of thought leads me to heated memories of the past few weeks. I never knew how good somebody could make me feel. Or how good I could make myself feel on the days Lincoln is gone. He’d stuck to his word and bought me a black vibrator, showing me how to use it. I’ve never liked being woken up before, but I’ve learned not to mind when Lincoln turns it on and presses it between my legs in the middle of the night.
It’s no wonder my father drilled abstinence into my head for so many years. If I’d known this is what I was missing out on, I would have left a long time ago. Millie told me about sex, but I never quite believed the hype whenever she’d go into details about her own personal experiences.
Despite all the good things I’ve gotten to experience, I still miss my family. I miss the security I felt in my routine, no matter how uptight it might have been. My days spent here are full of job hunting that goes nowhere because the second my last name is read on applications, no matter how entry-level the job is, I get passed on.
I can only assume it’s another way my father keeps one foot in the door, always there, always ensuring I never stray too far. Everything he’s done is to remind me that he’ll always be around—that I need him. But how could I forget?
No matter the obstacles, I’ve always found a way through. Mostly thanks to the sweaty Adonis doing landscaping outside. It didn’t hurt that I sold a few pieces of my designer clothing online either. It gave me enough money for groceries and a little to set aside. For what, I wasn’t sure. An apartment of my own wasn’t obtainable, but I knew staying here forever wouldn’t be an option either. Eventually, Lincoln would want to move on with his life, and I wouldn’t blame him.
When the door cracks open, I turn to see the man in the forefront of my mind wiping himself off with the shirt he’d started out wearing when he went outside. “If it’s already this hot now, it’s going to be a brutal summer,” he says, tossing the damp shirt onto the couch. “Maybe they were right about global warming.”
My eyes wander down the front of him, appreciating the view and not giving thought to his comment on the current state of climate change.
His stomach moves, and I realize he’s laughing. “Peaches?”
I clear my throat, forcing my eyes up. “It’s very…sunny out.”
Amusement lifts the corners of his lips at my distracted response. “Like what you see?”
My cheeks heat as I look away.
But he won’t let me.
He walks over, using his finger to turn my head back to him. “I like it when you watch me.”
I peek up at him through my lashes.
“Did you enjoy the show outside?”
How did he know I was watching him?
His eyes darken the way they do before clothes start coming off, and my heart picks up, nearly pounding out of my chest. “I always know when you’re looking, Georgia,” he says, reading my mind.
God, that’s…dangerous.
The fingers on my chin move upward to brush hair behind my ear, the path of his touch igniting a familiar fire in my stomach that he always creates.
He asks, “What’s your favorite color?”
It’s an odd question. “Why?”
“You always wear green,” he notes, hooking his finger in the neckline of the hunter green shirt and tugging on it until my tan bra peeks out. His finger lingers just above the curve of my breast.
“I like it.”
I’m not sure what he’s talking about anymore. The shirt? Or what’s underneath?
I stare down at his hand, silently willing him to cup me like he does at night when we’re cuddling in bed. He’ll turn me onto my side, pull me into him, and wrap his arm around my waist, resting his hand around one of my breasts before falling asleep. I’ve gotten used to the strange sleeping position over the weekends. “I’m not sure what it is. It used to be purple. It changes with my mood.”
A thoughtful noise comes from him. “What is your mood today?”
I don’t hesitate. “Contentment.”
Half of his lips quirk up.
I ask, “What’s your favorite color?”
His eyes flicker across my face before his lips form a secretive smile. “Amber.”
I don’t have time to process that when he says, “Come on.” Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to my temple before stepping away. “My parents are doing pizza at their place.”
“And we’re going? Like…together?”
Amusement lightens his face. “If we stay here, we’re going to be naked until I have no choice but to go back to the academy,” he informs me, lust heavy in his tone. “I figured I’d give you, and your body, a break. And my mom makes really good pizza. You’ll love it.”
He’s inviting me to his parents’ house. He’s never made it seem like he wanted me around his family whenever he’d go visit them. Since he never asks me to tag along, I never ask to go. I’d find myself at the public library, reading books in their quiet nook or using their computer to find job listings online. Or doing the occasional social media stalking to see how people have moved on with their lives without me.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he questions casually, his eyes tracking my fidgety movements.
“I wouldn’t want them to get the wrong impression of us.”
“And what impression is that, Georgia?” He leans down, crowding my space. His fingers go to my hair, playing with the ends before trailing them up, up, up until they’re on my face.
I suck in a breath, unable to think straight as those fingertips dance along my cheekbone and down to my jaw, where they start getting closer and closer to my mouth. He’s not playing fair right now.
“That we’re…” I swallow when his index finger starts tracing my bottom lip. “That we’re more than friends.”
His finger stops at the corner of my mouth. “I don’t fuck my friends, sweetheart.”
His blunt statement has me blowing out a short breath as I try to calm my heartbeat. “Are you really telling me you’ve never had friends with benefits before?”
If he says no, he’s lying. Because what does that make us then?
“I have casual sex,” he answers nonchalantly. “Unattached commitments that are very clear from the start. Like I said, I don’t fuck my friends. That gets messy.”
Didn’t he call us friends, though?
Something funny bubbles in my stomach. If he doesn’t sleep with his friends, what does he consider me? “So, we’re not friends?” I find myself asking, nervousness hollowing my words as I anxiously wait for his answer.
His brown eyes, which are softer than my father’s, scan my face. “No, Peaches.” My heart plummets to the bottom of my rib cage. “We’re definitely more than friends. Trouble is, I don’t know what that means yet.”
Oh. Oh. “Maybe I should stay here.”
I know his family means a lot to him, so I don’t want them to misunderstand whatever this is, if not even Lincoln or I can define it.
“I already told them we’d swing by,” he says, moving his hand away from my face and straightening. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think they’d be that far off to assume something anyway.”
All I can do is blink.
“Normally, I know where I stand with people,” he admits. “But I think you need to figure out what you want before we can make any rash decisions. I’m a patient guy. So until you know what that is, we’ll go eat some pizza with my family.”
I don’t know how I feel about that.
About any of this.
“Linc…” I stop myself, knowing that convincing him to let me stay here is pointless. “Never mind.”
By the time he’s done with his shower, he comes out and sees me holding up a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label that I bought online.
During one of our nights out, he told me that it’s his favorite whiskey, but that he doesn’t buy it often because it’s pricy.
“To bring with us,” I say when he looks between me and the whiskey with furrowed brows.
He blinks. “How did you buy that? That’s expensive liquor, Peaches.”
I never told him that I figured out how to sell my belongings on an app I downloaded. I figured he’d tell me not to and then try covering all the costs for us both, just like he’d insisted for the phone bill.
“I sold a couple things,” I murmur, shifting on my feet. “It’s not a big deal. I wanted to contribute so you don’t always have to.”
Lincoln stares at me for the longest time before his eyes dip to the bottle again. Then he says something under his breath that sounds a lot like “fuck it” before walking over, grabbing my face, and kissing me.
It’s…intense.
Not demanding or rushed or hard.
It’s different than what I’m used to, like all the other kisses we’ve shared are somehow incomparable to this.
And before I know it, it’s over.
Before I can say a word, he leans his forehead against mine and shakes his head. Fingers twitching in my hair, he releases me. His voice is hoarse when he murmurs, “Yeah. Definitely not friends.”
I’m not sure what flashes in his eyes, but his touch is tender, his fingers threading with my free hand as those eyes drop to the bottle that I soon learn is his father’s favorite whiskey too.