Chapter 29
Oh sweet lord in heaven. Zara had known she was tossing Lincoln into the deep end by leaving him alone with her father. She hadn’t expected the “getting him high” part. How the heck had her father gotten weed between the prison and here?
Poor Lincoln’s eyes were red from all the marijuana smoke hovering in the air. Maybe the hastily sprayed and completely ineffective air freshener had something to do with it too. The whole house reeked.
She went around the room, opening windows.
“You’re stomping all over my buzz with that frown of yours, honeybee,” her dad complained. “Come here and have a puff with me. I missed you. And boy do I have some stories to tell. I’m about to have the Hollywood producers after me again.”
She ignored him, and discovered she could barely look at Lincoln.
Her cheeks burned with hot embarrassment.
She imagined the women Lincoln must usually date.
Poised, polished, classy, wealthy. The idea that he’d be interested in Zara, the hot mess with the fraudster dad… ludicrous. What had she been thinking?
She banished all thoughts of tumbling into bed with Lincoln. The best she could hope for now was to get him out of here so his brain didn’t rot from the industrial-strength weed her father had somehow acquired.
Grabbing Lincoln by the hand, she dragged him toward the front door. “Make yourself at home, Dad. We have to get out of here.”
“You’re leaving? Zara, baby. You can’t leave now!”
“I know you, Lucky Lou. You’re going to conk out in about three minutes. You can sleep on the couch or in my bedroom. If you really wanted to go to Bermuda, you shouldn’t have smoked so much. I don’t make the rules.”
Her father tried to get up off the couch, but didn’t get far before slumping back down. “But wait. There’s something…I gotta ask…” He swiped his hand across his forehead and peered up at the ceiling. “Can’t remember right now. Ask the gigolo, he knows.”
“The gigolo?”
Zara looked at Lincoln, who gave her a goofy grin and wiggled his eyebrows at her.
Sweet sandaled lord in heaven. This situation was dire. Lincoln was stoned out of his gourd.
She managed to get him into the Mercedes, then drove to the Seaside Paradise. Lincoln kept leaning out the window to wave at the other cars. Was he singing to them too?
At the hotel, he walked up to one of the palm trees outside the entrance and insisted on giving it a nice long hug. “I love you, tree,” she heard him murmur. She waited impatiently until he finished whispering to the tree trunk, then snuck him through the side door.
“How much did you smoke?” she hissed at him as she punched the elevator button.
“Me? Nothing. I swear.” He flashed a boy scout vow signal, then parted his fingers to turn it into something out of Star Trek. Oh my God. If this was only a contact high, he must have no tolerance whatsoever.
He giggled. Giggled. She’d never heard anything like a giggle come out of this man’s mouth before.
“Have you ever smoked before?”
“No.” He shook his head solemnly. “Wait. Once, in Las Vegas. It put me to sleep. When I woke up, I was engaged.” More giggles.
Inside his suite, she helped him take his clothes off and shoved him into the shower, water on high.
She hoped that might make him a little more alert.
He immediately rested his forehead against the wall, as if he might fall asleep standing up.
With a sigh, she stripped down to her underwear and got in with him.
“Hi!” he said brightly, turning to face her. “I love you!”
“Uh-huh.” She squirted some shampoo into her palm and reached for the top of his head.
She had to dodge the streams of water, but it felt good to get clean herself.
She’d worked so hard to make their little bungalow a safe, clean-ish, family-friendly place.
It had taken her father one afternoon to change all that.
“You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen,” he told her with utter sincerity. “I love you.”
“Hmmm. That’s nice.” She stood on tiptoe so she could lather up his scalp.
“You don’t believe me,” he wailed.
“Please don’t cry.”
He started to cry. Oh good lord. This was a complete disaster. Her family had reduced this reserved, disciplined, brilliant man to a sobbing mess in the shower.
“You know, I was really hoping we could just have sex and call it good,” she grumbled. “Instead, thanks to my darling dad, you had to inhale a metric ton of marijuana smoke and now we have a sob-fest on our hands. One more thing I can blame him for. I swear, that man ruins everything.”
He winced; she might have been scrubbing his scalp a bit too forcefully. She eased up, then tilted his head to rinse out the lather.
“He said stuff,” Lincoln mumbled. “I have to remember.”
“Well, good luck with that. You’re completely baked. Why does my dad think you’re a gigolo, by the way?”
He ignored her question, clearly trying to maintain his focus. “But it’s important.”
“What is?”
He faced the needles of hot water and scrunched up his face. “It’s important,” he repeated. She turned him so the water could reach the back of his head. Now that he was facing her, he gave her a soulful look. “You’re magic, Zara. Everywhere you are, the light follows. How do you do that?”
“Shhh.” If he kept on like that, her heart might break, because she knew that the non-stoned Lincoln would never be this openly emotional. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
“Look at you, you’re dazzling. I can’t see anything else, only you.” He blinked water out of his eyes. “I don’t understand it. It scares me. Why have I never felt this way before?”
“Maybe because you haven’t ever been this stoned before?” She turned the water off. “Stay here while I get you a towel.”
“You’re leaving me? Don’t leave me. Everyone always leaves me.”
“All I’m doing is stepping out of the shower.” She opened the frosted glass door and stepped onto the cushy bath mat. Snagging a couple of pristine white towels, she returned to his side, only to find him leaning against the wall, snoring lightly.
“No! You can’t sleep yet.” She poked him in the side, causing him to jerk awake.
“Zara, you’re so sexy. I think I love you,” he mumbled.
“Yes, we’ve established that. You know, I really missed the boat here.” She took his hand and helped him step out of the shower stall. “I should have been recording all this for blackmail material. No one will ever believe me later, including you.”
She draped one towel over his shoulders and vigorously dried off his hair with the other. As she worked the towel, he kept talking, but it didn’t make much sense.
“The rigger,” he said between swipes of the towel. “It’s a rigger. Scam…can’t go back. Hide … Rory. Rory’s the key.”
At least, that was roughly what she thought he was saying, but it made absolutely no sense and he was swallowing half of his words.
“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” she told him.
She guided him toward the bed and helped him crawl into it.
As she pulled the covers over him, he latched onto her wrist. “Please. Come in with me. Did I tell you about my dreams? I never had dreams before I crashed. Now every night it’s another dream.
I’m a boy, and I’m falling, and there’s trees and… please get in with me.”
With a sigh, she decided she might as well.
It had been an atrociously long day. Outside, the sun had set and the twinkling lights made the coastline look like party time.
She was still wearing her wet bra and panties, so she stripped those off.
Lincoln would probably be dead to the world for hours and would never know they’d been naked in bed together.
His powerful body spooned her, his knees tucked against the backs of hers, her head snugged under his chin. Heat flashed through her, shocking her to her core. Was she really still so wildly attracted to him, even in his zonked-out state?
She had it bad.
In a moment, Lincoln was snoring again. She found the sound soothing.
All things considered, this wasn’t a bad place to be, safe in this luxury hotel room, wrapped in Lincoln’s strong arms. Eddie and Mia were squared away for the night.
Her dad could do what he wanted with the house; it was his, after all.
She had the mystery chip safe in her hoodie pocket, but no one knew that, especially not Tanaka.
Right now, she might as well luxuriate in this rare moment of stillness and peace.
When she woke up, Lincoln’s hand was cupping her breast. It was still dark outside, but moonlight shone through the plate-glass window. Her breath caught; did Lincoln know he was feeling her up, or was he still asleep?
Then she felt his lips against her ear as he whispered, ever so softly, “Are you awake?”
He didn’t sound stoned anymore.
“Are you?” she whispered back.
“Oh yeah. Very awake.”
She could translate that deep burr of arousal in his voice, even without feeling the brush of his erection against her lower back.
“Want me to back off?” he asked. “Just say the word.”
“How long have you been awake? What do you remember?”
“I remember you put me in the shower. You washed my hair. I cried like a baby. You put me to bed and I made you get in with me. You’re a goddamn angel.”
He didn’t mention anything about all the things he’d said about love and light and all the rest of it. Maybe he didn’t remember that part, or maybe he was embarrassed, or didn’t know how to retract it.
“It was my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone with my dad.”
“Stop it. I’m a grown man. So is he.” His thumb brushed her nipple, which hardened eagerly. Desire sent lightning through her nervous system. “I don’t regret a thing.”
The rumble of his chest against her back offered another layer of sensation, turning her on even more. “I’m not an angel.” She had to clarify that part.
He squeezed her nipple between his fingers.
She gasped at the sharp pleasure that gave her.
Heat pulsed between her legs. Her lust for him sent everything else out of her mind.
Just like before, all that mattered was this heat they generated between them.
She couldn’t resist it, and she didn’t want to anyway.
It was too good, too tempting, too beautiful.
She grabbed his other hand and pulled it to her mound, guiding it to the spot that craved his touch. As soon as his long fingers eased between her legs, she let out a sigh of bliss. That was what she needed. Contact. Pressure. His hand on her most intimate parts. His mouth hot against her neck.
He stroked her with one hand and toyed with her nipples with the other, while she arched her body to give him free rein to play.
God, how she’d wanted this. That strength and control that lurked behind his dark green eyes, the secrets he kept so close…
all along, she’d wanted to crack his facade open and see what lay inside.
His breath was coming faster now, his hand buried between her legs, palm wide, pressing, rubbing, driving her mad.
She reached behind her to feel the hard shaft now at full force, hot and throbbing against her skin.
He let her hand close around him, but he made no move to please himself. His focus was entirely on her.
“I want you to be the happiest you’ve ever been,” he whispered in her ear.
She choked out a laugh. “Are you competitive in everything?”
“Yes, probably. I just want you to feel good. That’s all.”
She put her hand over his as he stroked her clit. “Keep that up and I’ll feel so good my head might explode.”
“I like how you go for what you want. You want me.” He sounded almost surprised.
“Oh yes.”
He flexed against her, letting her feel just how much he felt the same way. “We couldn’t be more different, and yet it feels like this between us.”
Like this… She knew how it felt to her. All this mad pleasure, this thirst, this “I need more,” this “never stop,” this naked dance… But what about him?
Beyond words, she made a sound that she hoped he understood was a question. Like what?
“Like destiny.” He slid a finger inside her and her inner muscles fluttered around it. She wanted him all the way inside, wanted to experience his intensity and strength as close as possible, but she also needed to ride this unbelievable wave of pleasure that had her in its grip.
“I’m…I’m…yes…” she gasped. “Yes…more…yes…” And then she tipped over the edge into a world of fireworks and hot, hot release.
She arched against his hand, seeking every moment of that climax, and he met her right there, giving her all the strength and friction she needed.
He would always do exactly that, his body was telling her. I got you. And I always will.