“You own sweats?” I asked incredulously as he rounded the bed.
“Yes.” He said the word as if he didn’t understand what the big deal was.
“I kinda pictured you sleeping in a tie.”
He paused with his hand on the mattress. “I suppose I could if you prefer.”
I swatted at him with a pillow. “Nooo.”
He climbed in beside me and scooped me into his side like we’d done this a thousand times.
“You think I’m uptight.” He stretched and flicked a switch. Only the lights of the city remained.
“You are uptight.”
“And that displeases you?”
I rolled over, draping my arm over his stomach. He smelled so good I wanted to take a deep breath, but controlled myself.
“No. You should be who you are.” I pressed my cheek into his chest. “I’d prefer to keep the fact that you’re snuggly between us.”
“Snuggly?”
I twined a leg between his and burrowed deeper against him. “Yes. Snuggly.”
He stroked my hair with one hand and laced his fingers with mine on top of his stomach. “Are you in pain?”
“It’s more like a ballet troupe now instead of the tap dancers in my head.”
He let out a dissatisfied rumble that vibrated against my cheek.
“I’ve never done this before,” I admitted, not wanting to think about anything having to do with yesterday.
“Neither have I.”
I popped my head up, despite I could barely see his face. “I meant spent the night with someone.”
“So did I.” Gently, he nudged my head back to his chest.
He hadn’t? “Why?” The question was out before I could stop it. Lincoln was desirable on every level. He’d probably had more women lined up for a shot with him than lived in this zip code.
“I—” He was quiet for so long, I didn’t think he was going to answer. “I think I was waiting for you.”
If I was uncertain before about the status of my feelings for him, he’d ripped the veil off now. I’d fallen. Hard. Because deep down, my heart had been waiting for Lincoln too.
Chapter Eighteen
Lincoln
I slept six hours.
I looked at the clock and then at Lexie, still out in my arms. She had to be the reason. Because I couldn’t remember sleeping that long ever since I was a child.
And I wasn’t one to linger in bed. This morning, I had zero desire to get out.
I expected a bit of awkwardness, waking up with someone else beside me. There wasn’t. This felt right.
How I’d lived before this was what was wrong.
She was soft, a contrast to my hardness. She was kind to my blunt nature. She was courageous where I did what was necessary to get by.
And she made me see things as if the world were a brand-new place.
It was as if I were waking up for the first time.
Everything was the same.
I was different.
Paws landed on the side of the bed and a face appeared.
You need to go out?
See? Different. I was talking to a dog in my head so I didn’t wake up Lexie.
He panted as if he’d read my thoughts.
Reluctantly, I untangled from Lexie.
“Sneaking out?” she asked when I had one leg out of the bed.
“I never imagined I’d spend this much of my life taking a dog for a walk.” I twisted to face her. “I haven’t decided if he has to do his business or just wants a hot dog.”
Muffy’s tail flew at the mention of the food that was quickly becoming his favorite.
Lexie’s lips parted. “You feed him . . . hot dogs?”
“Don’t tell Pepper. She’ll kill me.”
She snickered. “Are you afraid she’ll take your foster dog back?”
I guessed Lexie knew the dog situation wasn’t temporary just as my brother had.
I patted Muffy’s head. “He doesn’t want to go back.”
She gave me a yeah sure look. “You don’t want him to go back.”
“Same difference.” I swung my other leg out of the bed. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Are you talking to me or him?” Lexie pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
Seeing her in my bed and happy was a beautiful sight.
“Both.”
She hopped up and swiped that awful sweatshirt off the floor. “Will I embarrass you wearing this?” She dangled it from her finger.
Actually, I couldn’t believe she would don it in public. She was always impeccable for the outside world.
“You could never embarrass me.” I rounded the foot of the bed and grabbed her by the hips. “And I didn’t hear a proper good morning.”
My lips twitched and it was an odd sensation. I shouldn’t feel this . . . carefree. But I was . . . in a stellar mood.
She sniffed haughtily. “Oh, now you think you’re the greeting police. I don’t think so, pal.”
I leaned closer, hardening my expression. “We are not pals.”
Her brow furrowed. “My mistake. I thought we were friends.”
“The hell you did.” Closer. Closer. Closer. She smelled of wildflowers and sweetness. “Tell me good morning.”
“Good morning,” she said tartly.
“The best version,” I growled, only millimeters from her mouth.
“I don’t believe we’ve covered that.” She lifted her chin, which bumped her lips with mine.
My restraint snapped. This was why I didn’t kiss Lexie goodnight last night. Because I knew it would be too much to resist. I fused our mouths together like I’d wanted to from the second I woke up. She sent a streak of something racing through my blood that burst into desire and need like I’d never felt.
She whimpered and pushed onto her toes, tangling her fingers in my hair. The tug sent a bite of pain that only intensified the deep craving I had to show her the ultimate good morning.
She slipped her tongue in my mouth and pressed her slender body against mine. It was impossible for her to get any closer, yet I longed to try.
Lexie held me as if she knew what she wanted and was unafraid to pursue it, yet melted into me like I was her support. Her protector.
A surge of some other unknown feeling streaked through me. All I recognized was that I didn’t want it to stop.
I backed her against the closet door.
She hooked her leg onto my hip. “We should create a new version of good morning,” she panted against my mouth.
My desire was as rampant as a teenage boy. I’d suppressed those urges for most of my life. Now, I couldn’t.
I thrust my hips against hers. Allowed her to feel just what she did to me. How out of control I was when it came to her.
I pressed her against the solid wood of the door and clamped a hand on her leg to keep her in place.
She yanked the back of my neck and kissed me like a savage.
I shoved the strap of her tank top down, exposing that delicate soft skin. With my mouth, I claimed it. These were no gentle, feathering kisses. They were bruising, erratic . . . wild.
“Lincoln,” she breathed.
“You can’t say my name like that,” I growled, “unless you want me to do this.” I fisted the hem of her top and yanked it over her head. I tossed it and faintly heard the click of Muffy’s paws chasing after it.