Chapter 26 Lincoln
Lincoln
Somehow, we’d been official business partners for two months.
Time had flown by between delineating roles and responsibilities, onboarding her clients to her second-in-command, and acquiring new clients while still ensuring BrightMark got everything they wanted from our two-person team.
I’d naturally defaulted to negotiating fees and cracking the whip when clients got greedy.
Every meal had turned into a business meeting, and most nights, we worked late.
Outside of a fee-based lawyer, Clean Slate Branding he knew her so well he’d known to make her laugh before she even answered. How could I compete with someone who’d loved her like that?
“Kevin … I-I’m sorry, I think I have real feelings for someone here. I think—I want to see what it could be.”
I froze mid-step, heart hammering, every muscle braced. How had I missed this? My spine went ramrod straight. I’d been so into the business and working meals I’d missed she was still seeing fucking Diego. I thought it fizzled out, I’d become hopeful.
“I know, Kev. Yeah, you too.”
Something went hot inside me—sharp and bright and uninvited. “You don’t have to explain,” I said, the words coming out harsher than I meant, cutting through the quiet, even before she was fully back in the kitchen.
Her head whipped toward me, brown eyes blazing. “What?”
“You and Diego,” I snapped, saying his name made me want to punch something. “It makes sense. He seems like a good guy. Really needs a haircut, but he seems—”
“You think I was talking about Diego just now?”
My throat felt too thick to speak, so I simply nodded. This wasn’t rage. It was pure heartbreak.
“You’re such an idiot.” Her voice slashed through the air as she got closer to me.
Then she was on me.
She grabbed the front of my shirt, yanked me forward, and crashed her mouth against mine, daring me to catch up.
It wasn’t soft, it was claiming, all teeth and heat, as her breath mingled with mine.
I hauled her closer, turning her around so I could press her against the counter.
A mug tipped, ceramic breaking, and my tongue battled with hers.
Her hands were in my hair, nails scraping, and I groaned into her mouth, kissing her back, desperate and unrestrained.
Starved for her. Years of pretending I didn’t want exactly this detonated between us.
When she finally broke the kiss, we were breathing heavily. Her lips were swollen, her pupils blown wide. It was more than I’d thought I’d ever get, and still not enough.
“You get it now?” she asked, voice unsteady, but there was the ghost of a smile on her mouth.
I pressed my forehead to hers, taming my need for her enough to answer. “Yeah,” I said, hoarse. “Loud and clear.”
She smiled, sweet then, almost shy, and I pecked her lips, savoring how plump hers felt against my mouth. “Nina,” I whispered, afraid to break the moment, “can I take you out to dinner sometime?”
The tilt of her lips was precious. “That’s how you ask a girl out, Carter.”
Nina Reyes and I were dating. We’d built a fine but unmistakable line between our professional, restrained attitudes during meetings and the teasing that came after whichever contract was signed.
When Nina’d poke fun at my negotiation face, how my asshole edge came in handy, or how she’d had to ask me the same question twice because I’d been distracted.
And I was distracted by her. The way her mind worked strategies, closed every messy brief with clarity, turned my graphics into campaigns.
Sometimes, all it took was her hand hovering just above mine, my own brushing her waist in passing, the ghost of her touch lingering on my shoulder.
And the air would shift—subtle but undeniable.
We’d go out together. Alone. Without laptops or client notes.
Nina enjoyed restaurants with huge portions so you could bring home leftovers for a late-night snack.
I figured out I actually loved them too.
Dating Nina, even with as much as I needed to prove to her still, wasn’t about pretending to be someone else.
It was about uncovering for each other who we’d been all along.
I’d abandoned all those suits, and she’d lectured me about manners when I lashed out at anybody.
Between mocking me about the leopard-print sunglasses and the unreliable breeze of spring, we’d laugh strolling by the lake, kiss under the rain, and relish every spark as she determined how I should fit into her life.
She’d asked what I wanted, and I’d played it coy and casual.
“We could play it by ear, babe.” The teasing glint in her eyes told me she saw right through me, but I worried if I told her I wanted forever, she’d regain her senses and kick me to the curb.
For a guy with longer hair, less baggage …
maybe a shorter dick. One could count his blessings however they landed.
I’d tried to walk her home, peck her goodbye, and sleep at her old apartment, but somehow, I ended up on that couch more than in the place I rented.
Tonight was no exception—she wrapped her hands around the lapels of my jacket and pulled me into the elevator.
Her smiling lips pressed against mine, and her happiness shook off some of the guilt I still carried.
I grunted when my back hit the wall, her tongue sweeping inside my mouth.
I loved that she was never tentative. Never just the tip. A bold duel of tongues. Every time.
“All that rent money could go into the business, Linc,” she whispered against my lips. “Move back in. This is silly.”
I shook my head. “Babe …” I hated rejecting her.
“This is still new, and I—” She bit my lower lip, and my belt buckle pressed into her stomach.
I hazily wondered if she knew the buckle wasn’t the only hard thing pressing against her.
“I told you I’d give you choices. Moving back in isn’t giving you choices. ”
She let out an annoyed huff just as the elevator dinged on our floor.
Fuck. Now she was mad at me.
She tugged me down the hallway, her grip insistent, until we reached the living room.
With a dramatic sigh, she dropped onto the couch, legs curling under her.
I followed, perching on the arm beside her.
The warmth from her body still clung to mine, reminding me that even if she changed her mind now, never to touch me again, I’d at least know the taste of her lips.
Her eyes were on me: curious, guarded, still flickering with that little spark of frustration. “You’re holding out on me.”
I leaned back against the cushions, trying to act casual, but my chest was tight with anticipation. “I’m not.”
“You are, and I get it. This is still confusing as fuck for me.”