Chapter 26 Lincoln #2
My heart dropped. I didn’t want her confused, I wanted her obsessed the way I’d been with her for years. I took off my jacket, letting my fingers brush over the edge of her hand. She lifted her gaze to me at the touch.
“I never actually told you why I got this.” I gestured vaguely toward my side, the outline of the tattoo visible through the pale-pink fabric of my shirt.
She tilted her head, brow raised, and I swear she smirked just a little, daring me to spill.
She thought it’d be cute. It wouldn’t. I loved having a piece of something important to her on my skin, but my fixation with her hadn’t been born out of tender love.
I took a deep breath, inhaling energy. “You’d told Vin that you weren’t going to his parents’ for winter break, freshman year of college,” I said. “I mean, hindsight and all, why the fuck would you?” I shifted on the couch, running a hand through my hair, avoiding her gaze.
I swallowed hard, heat rising to my neck. “I’d considered going home with Vin just to see you …. Well, just to fuck with you.” My fingers clenched in my lap, the shame gnawing.
She didn’t flinch, just waited for me to continue.
“But … then, it turned out Vin didn’t want to be there.
” I let out a shaky breath. “Nina, I’m pissed as hell at him, but I think—I think he wanted to see you.
” I pressed my hand against my sternum, willing myself to stay on track.
“Anyway, he came to visit me. Took him two hours to start blurting out how proud he was of you. He showed me pictures of you at your school. You were so fucking happy. Happier than I’d ever seen you.
” My chest felt tight, pulse spiking, each word clawing its way out.
Her hand twitched against the throw pillow, a subtle, conflicted tremor. Her brows knitted.
“I understand now I wanted to be the one to make you happy, not some random school, some random guy with his arm over your shoulder.” My jaw clenched.
“But I’d never been that for you, and it pissed me the fuck off, Nina.
It brought back the moment when I thought you’d told me you didn’t want me … all over again.”
Nina’s lips parted, breath catching. She shifted closer, but not enough to bridge the distance, her hand hovering uncertainly.
I swallowed. My thumb rubbed against my knee, heart hammering. “So I got this bird … because it’d remind me to take that away from you. And damn if I didn’t follow up on that when I saw you: new fucking beautiful hire at 3D’s, marketing firm from hell.”
I let every ounce of guilt pour through in my tone. “This wasn’t done out of love.” My palm landed over the ink. “But out of resentment.”
Her chest rose and fell faster, gaze darting from my eyes to my hand tracing a line where the ink sat under my shirt. And in that tense silence born out of my obsession and shame, she still held herself together.
“And how do you feel about it now, Lincoln?” she said softly, covering my hand with hers and pressing it against my side.
The contact made me draw in a sharp inhale, my ribs expanding against her palm. My body desperate to keep her there. “Now that I love what it means, I realize I was such an idiot,” I said. “A kid who didn’t know what to do with wanting something that bad.”
Her thumb traced a slow circle over my shirt, seeking the wings of my songbird, and my breath hitched. The gentleness almost undid me more than her anger had earlier.
“What does it mean?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
“It’s not about controlling you but about deserving you. About how you changed me then and change me now.”
My throat locked, but I didn’t stop. Her hand stayed right where it was, warm and grounding. “Now it means you’re the choice I’d make a thousand times, and I’d go through every sorrow again to be your choice. To be here. With you.”
Her eyes shimmered, and I couldn’t tell if she was going to cry or kiss me, so I kept talking before she could pull away.
“It’s not about taking anything from you anymore, Nina. It’s about carrying you with me. Everywhere. Always.”
She held my gaze for a long, heavy beat, then let go of my hand and slid her fingers under the hem of my shirt. The pad of her thumb brushed bare skin, warm and unhurried.
“Because you love me.” She didn’t ask, she understood.
My pulse roared in my ears, and I nodded. “Because I loved you even when I didn’t know how. Even if I can’t take any of your sorrows away.” I’d expected judgment, but not this—this careful, curious touch intent on memorizing every line on my side.
“Then show me,” she said, her voice steady but her breathing uneven.
I swallowed hard, reached behind my neck, and slowly lifted my shirt over my head, letting her see it all again—the bird, the notes, the scars.
Her breath caught, and her thumb stroked slowly over the edge of the tattoo, sealing the words into my skin.
“Let’s move past hurt together, Linc. It’s time.”
My pulse slammed in my ears. “Now?”
Her lips curved, not teasing, but sure. “Now. So we can both be happy.”
I caught her wrist gently but firmly, keeping her hand pressed to my side as I leaned in. “You’re sure?” My voice was low, hoarse.
She nodded, her breath shaky but steady. “Yes.”
I kissed her then, deep, slow. She’d claimed me in every other kiss, but this was the very first time I felt like I could claim her.
My other hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her there, and she melted into me.
Her fingers curled into my ribs, pulling me closer until I was half sprawled over her on the couch, forearms catching my weight.
When I broke the kiss, I stayed close enough to feel her breath on my lips. “You’re going to tell me if you need to stop. If it’s too much.”
“I will,” she promised, her voice small but certain.
I stood, drawing her up with me, my fingers laced with hers. “Your bedroom?” The question came out rough.
She held the moment for half a heartbeat, savoring the weight of the choice, then lead me down the short hallway. My chest thundered. Want and lust inconsequential words to grasp the magnitude of what I felt.
Once in the room, I stopped her near the bed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. I patted my pockets for the rescue inhaler, placing it on her nightstand, then kissed her jaw as she eyed the inhaler. “I’ve read you may need it, babe.”
“You’ve read up on sex and asthma?” she asked, facing me.
I nodded. “It wasn’t reassuring enough. Tell me what I can’t do.”
Her smile tilted, a little shy but mischievous. “You can do anything you want. Just—” Her eyes flew to the inhaler on the nightstand with a pointed look. “Keep me near it.”
I kissed her again, softer this time, reverent. “I’ve got you,” I murmured against her lips.
I placed open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, down to the crook of her neck. She outlined my spine with her fingers, goosebumps prickling all over my torso. I nipped at her collarbone lightly, and her breath turned to a hitched laugh.
“You’re ticklish.”
She nodded, sitting up and taking off her top, leaving a purple lace bra exposed. Her breasts swelled with her breathing, the darker skin of her areola almost peeking from the cup.
“Don’t do that again,” I warned, my voice low enough to make her breath catch. I knelt between her legs, my palms gliding up her thighs slow enough to make her shiver. “When you’re in bed, flushed and aching for me, I choose.”
I paused, letting the words hang there as my thumbs traced lazy circles on her skin.
“If you trust me,” I added, my tone softening.
She nodded, biting her lip.
“Good.” I tugged her toward me until she lifted her hips, then kissed and licked every inch of skin I undressed, my hands on the outside of her thighs, my tongue on the inside. The scent of her desire was driving me mad.
I kept my hands on her, drawing languid patterns up and down her legs while I took a minute to memorize every curve of her. I’d never undress her for the first time again, and I’d be damned if I wouldn’t imprint every single moment into my brain.
Her breath hitched. “You’re staring.”
I nodded. “Watch me watching you.”
“I want to watch you too,” she said, offering me her hand.
If she looked at my cock this way, gaze smoldering with need, bottom lip caught between her teeth, I’d embarrass myself.
She made quick work of my belt and jeans, my hands trailing her back as we kissed each other tenderly.
When my jeans fell to my knees, she palmed my length through my boxers.
With each gasp, she’d overtake the kiss, sliding more tongue with impatience and desperation so intense I thought they were my own.
Her nipples peaked through the fabric of the bra, and I cupped and massaged her breasts until she moaned. “That’s right, babe,” I growled, barely recognizing my voice. “Show me what I make you feel.”
She arched into my touch, and I unclasped her bra and let it fall off her.
I had to sprawl my fingers open to cup her breast, and the fullness of them spilled between my digits.
She shot her hands to my head, her fingers raking between my hair, pulling my chest to hers.
As she dropped back, she pushed my pants to my ankles, and I pulled them off when I lay next to her.
“Nina,” I whispered, “Move up a second.” I maneuvered the pillows, prodding them up behind her back against the headboard. “Is that high enough, comfortable?”
“You’ve really read on this, haven’t you?” Her tone was teasing, but her eyes weren’t. And that’s all I needed to know that I’d been the first one to really learn for her rather than figure it out as things went.
Possessiveness rose in me at the thought of being the first one to show her this type of care. If I had my way, she’d know no man’s care but mine for the rest of my life.