Chapter 10 Lincoln #3
“He was obnoxious,” she cries. She laughs.
She whimpers. The sound is a devastating mix of all three.
“God. It’s ridiculous how certain he was that every male in the continental US wanted me.
He wore those big-brother-tinted glasses and acted as if the entire world revolved around us.
Now, I’m not sure I’ve experienced enough self-doubt to prepare me for a world that isn’t.
I’m not ready for him to be gone. Because I was sheltered before, and now I’m all alone and unprotected and there’s no one around to convince me I’m strong and capable and pretty. ”
“I can be that for you.” I slide my hand off the back of the couch and stroke the side of her neck. And damn her, she doesn’t pull away. “I’ll remind you that you’re brave and amazing and so fucking beautiful it makes my stomach ache.”
Tears swell over and trickle down to her trembling jaw.
“I’ll be your obnoxious guard for as long as I can be. I’ll tell anyone who listens how fucking strong you are. I’ll be the guy who builds you up until you’re ready to stand on your own two feet.”
“What if I never get there?” She curls into my hand, like a content cat yearning for more.
But then she leans a little closer, her gaze flickering to my lips and her lashes coming down to kiss her cheeks.
“What if I don’t want to? Because becoming brave and strong and capable means you’ll leave right after.
” Her voice crackles with an ache so deep, it cuts like a knife between my ribs.
“If you leave, then I’ll be alone all over again. ”
Where’s the line? I wonder. Where does my assignment for Aster end, and the man I am, the one who wants so fucking badly to wrap Nova Nichols up and keep her safe, begin?
I want to protect her from a world intent on hurting her. I want to save her from guys just like me. Fuck, I want to stuff her behind my back and shove an explosive up Aster’s asshole, neutralizing the threat against a woman who deserves so much fucking more.
“I don’t want to be alone, Lincoln. And I don’t know how to exist now that my brother doesn’t.
I don’t want to be here, where my only purpose is to, what?
Go to the office every day and stamp documents?
Make small talk? Allow people to go into debt?
Is that it for me?” She groans. “Is that the whole point?”
“No. Your life is proof that goodness exists.” I slide my tongue along my lips. But not because I want to trick her. Not because I want to draw her focus or fool her into thinking I’m someone I’m not. Fuck me, I’m no more in control of this now than she has been since the start.
Which means we’re both fucked.
“Your life matters, Nova. Not because of the bank, or small talk, or stamping documents, or rejecting that car salesman every time he musters the balls to ask you out.”
She chokes out a teary laugh.
“Maybe your purpose is to show me I can be a better person.” So selfish. So fucking selfish! “To make me do better. Be better. So even in the darkness, even when the world fucking sucks, I can remember people like you exist. That alone proves not everything is helpless.”
Tears dribble from her eyes and along her cheeks, over smooth skin on one side, and rough, healing grazes on the other.
Her breath is deliciously sweet, hitching, so for every inhalation, her lungs work extra hard to regulate.
But it’s her lips I’m drawn to. How plump they are when she cries, and how moist they glisten when tears trickle down to sit on them.
I stroke her jaw and bring her closer. Closer. But this has nothing to do with Aster anymore and everything to do with my own selfish needs. With the fire in my veins and the pounding staccato of my heart. It’s about the way my hands itch to hold, and my body yearns to press against hers.
As Nova’s eyes flit closed and she willingly leans into my hand, I know I’m going to hell. I’ll burn when I get there. And if I’m lucky, I’ll meet Ryan Nichols and lie down so he can beat me black and blue.
It’s the least I deserve.
But it’s a punishment I’ll gladly accept in exchange for a taste. Penance for just one moment of—
The doorbell rings, startling Nova’s eyes open and her body damn near a whole foot off the couch. She drops with a thump of agony that leaves her hissing, only to scramble up again, roll off the cushions, and stumble around the coffee table.
While she huffs and grunts and stomps her way to the door, I simply flop back against the couch and crush my thumbs to my eyes until dots float in my vision.
So fucking stupid!
My heart sprints so fast, it hurts, and my cock is annoyingly hard, which is just another jab to the face for a man who already knows he’s doing the wrong thing.
I’m the bad guy. I’m the fucking villain in her world. And while I’d like to think I’m some kind of noble son of a bitch saving her from the likes of Aster and Tank, that doesn’t save me from who I truly am at my core.
Irredeemable. Dishonorable.
Unworthy.
“Food’s here.” Shaky and embarrassed, Nova accepts our dinner and closes the door with a slam that rattles the walls. Turning back, she comes around and sits on the very opposite end of the couch.
Don’t touch, Castro.
Don’t even try it.
“I’m sorry, Nova. I—”
“Let’s just eat,” she cuts in, her words a gravelly ache scratching at the side of my heart. “Then you should probably leave. I’m tired.”