38
I’d like to say that I didn’t have any more nightmares about Griller or any of the other guys in the Reapers, but that would be a lie. They’d lessened since Lincoln came into my life, but I still sometimes found myself trapped in them. Only my dreams were more memories than my subconscious throwing together a concoction of thoughts and images.
Startling awake, my breaths heavy and uneven, I searched my surroundings all without moving a muscle, relaxing only when I remembered where I was. Then I felt warm breath on my neck, and an arm slung over my midsection, holding me close.
Three seconds passed before my brain registered that Lincoln was the person behind me. This was the first time we’d actually slept in the same bed together, and even through everything that had happened between us in the past couple days, I couldn’t think of a more perfect way to wake up.
I needed to use the toilet, but I didn’t want to leave the comfort of his soothing embrace. When he moved his arm lower and pressed closer, however, I realized if I didn’t empty my bladder, I’d end up having a mess to clean up.
Pushing on his arm did nothing but make him grip me tighter. “Lincoln,” I croaked, my mouth void of any moisture. “I gotta… pee.” Barely able to talk, I hoped he heard me. Several seconds passed, but nothing happened. I tried to move his arm again, and he groaned.
“What are you doin’, woman?” he grunted.
“Pee” was the only word that came out clearly.
He mumbled something before rolling onto his back, releasing me. I scrambled to the edge of the bed, threw my feet over the side, and stood. My head spun, and I almost fell back onto the mattress but caught myself at the last second. Shuffling forward, I finally made it the few feet to the bathroom, did my business, then stopped at the sink to wash my hands. I glanced into the mirror and saw someone who’d had too much alcohol the night before. But my reflection wasn’t the same one I gazed upon last time in this room, which was only a shell of a person. I had more life in my eyes, even though they were glassy and red, and while I was heartbroken Lincoln didn’t love me like I did him, I didn’t live in constant fear anymore.
“Be thankful you’re free,” I murmured to my likeness. “Your heart might hurt, but your body doesn’t.” Splashing some cold water on my face, I felt remotely better, but not by much. I curved my hand under the faucet and drank several mouthfuls from the tap, the cotton feeling in my mouth finally dissipating. Then, after a quick brush of my teeth, I wiped my face, sucked in a fortifying breath and released it slowly, giving me a couple extra seconds before I laid eyes on the guy who had turned my world upside down, both good and bad.
When I reentered the room, his eyes were on me, and it was then it dawned on me I wore nothing more than a pair of panties. The way his heated gaze traveled over me made the buzzing beneath my skin erupt, and all I wanted to do was crawl back into his arms and lose myself—emotionally as well as physically. But there was still one big issue between us.
Lincoln reached out his hand. “Come here, Maddie.” I didn’t think I’d ever tire of hearing him say my name, his morning voice groggy yet undeniably sexy.
I slid my palm into his, and he moved back, guiding me in front of him so he could snuggle behind me.
“Lincoln, I wanna—”
“How come you don’t call me Linc?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I figured only your friends and family called you that.”
His lips pressed against my shoulder, the slight flick of his tongue on my skin making me want to turn around and ravage his mouth. But I kept still.
“That’s silly. You’re my woman. You can certainly call me by my nickname. If you want to, of course. Or you can call me babe or whatever you’re comfortable with.” He kissed my shoulder once more, cuddling closer, his excitement pressing into my backside.
My mind raced with why he acted so differently this morning. He seemed relaxed, happy even, whereas before he left with his brother yesterday, he was irritated with me. I couldn’t recall much of our interaction after he returned to the clubhouse because my inebriated state didn’t allow me to retain much of a memory.
I turned to ask him what changed, but he was off the bed and rushing toward the bathroom. “Be right back.” Two minutes later, he stood beside me, looking down at me like I was the eighth wonder of the world. “You’re so beautiful. You know that?”
“Even looking as hungover as I do?” Instead of waiting for his answer, I took in the state of him standing there in nothing but his boxer briefs, his impressive bulge doing a great job of stretching the fabric. When he moved his hand toward his hair, my eyes traveled up the length of him, appreciating every hard plane of his body. Lincoln was built to fight, and as it turned out, he fought to save me. Now all I had to do was come to terms with the fact that while I believed he desired me, his heart hadn’t taken the plunge yet.
“You look perfect,” he finally answered, tossing the covers from me and pinning me to the bed. Instinctually, I spread my legs so he could rest atop of me, most of his weight held up by his forearms. His face was inches from mine, and while I wanted to dwell on my heartache, all I could do was hope for one kiss. “Maddie, I… I want to tell you something.”
Oh no! Was he going to break it off with me? Was he going to tell me I had to leave, that he thought maybe it was best if I went back home? Holding my breath in anxiousness did nothing but make my lungs burn, so I tried my best to breathe regularly and remain calm, but all the while, my pulse thrummed so fast, I was sure he heard it.
He pulled us into a sitting position, his finger tracing the length of my thigh as he looked at me, brushing away the hair that had fallen over my eye. I was so in love with him even though I suspected he was about to shatter the remaining fragments of my heart, which prompted me to say the only thing I could think of to protect myself.
“I don’t love you,” I blurted, swallowing hard when his expression tightened.
“You don’t?” His eyebrow lifted as he leaned in, looking more puzzled than hurt or angry.
Then suddenly, I found myself more confused than ever. One moment I was studying his face, and the next, I was kissing him back with every ounce of love and desire tightly wound inside me, feeding off his need to stroke my tongue with his. “I think you’re lying,” he said when he finally broke away.
“I’m… I’m not.”
“Then that’s a shame.” His bottom lip jutted forward right before he tsked.
“It is?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Resting his hand in the center of my chest, he slowly pushed me until I was on my back again, hovering over me, confusing me, until he parted his lips and confessed, “Because I love you.”
“You do?” I was surprised I had enough brainpower to form those two words, let alone speak them out loud. “But you told me you didn’t.”
Lincoln trailed his finger from my temple to my jaw, down my neck, and over my collarbone until he rested his hand over my heart. His touch was intimate, sensual, loving. The way his eyes bore into mine made me feel cherished and revered.
“I didn’t know.”