by T. K. Leigh
“Lincoln,” I moan, scraping my fingernails against his scalp.
“Yeah, baby.”
The vibration of his voice pushes me higher and higher, and I move against him with greater urgency. I never thought it possible to get off without him actually touching me. He proved me wrong back then. Just like he’s continued to prove me wrong.
That familiar quivering sensation fills me, my toes curling, spine tingling, and I hold my breath, my brain unable to focus on anything other than the immense pleasure this man brings me. When I don’t think anything could feel more incredible, Lincoln pulls back the fabric of my panties, his tongue tracing along my center. He pushes a finger into me, then another, stretching and twisting. Lights blind my vision and I shatter, screaming his name as I convulse on my bed, not wanting this euphoric sensation to end. And Lincoln won’t let it, drawing out my orgasm as long as possible until he can no longer control himself.
“I need to be inside you,” he states in a gruff voice, a man obsessed.
With haste, he yanks my panties down my legs, then lowers his own jeans and briefs. I don’t take my eyes off him, admiring his beautiful physique. I want to pinch myself to make sure this is really happening, that I’m not dreaming. It all seems surreal, considering a little more than a week ago, he looked at me with absolute disgust as he kicked me out of his office.
He returns to me, crawling up my body. His motions are tender as he brushes the hair away from my eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“Newsflash.” I smirk. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. This isn’t the first time we’ve done this.”
“True. But there’s no looking back after this. There’s a lot more at stake now.”
I gaze at him thoughtfully, trying to find a way to assure him I’m ready for everything that follows. “Are you familiar with the story of Orpheus?”
He cocks a brow, releasing a small laugh. “This may be the first time someone’s brought up Greek Mythology during foreplay. At least, it doesn’t seem to be a common topic in my circles.”
I give him a sardonic look before my expression turns serious once more. “When his wife, Eurydice, died, he went to hell to bring her back from the underworld, risking everything. Hades and Persephone were so entranced by his musical ability that they permitted him to go into hell and bring her back with him, on the condition she walk behind him and he not look back.”
“I know the story.”
Grabbing the back of his neck, I bring his lips within a breath of mine. “He lost the love of his life because he made the mistake of looking back.” I shake my head, emotion choking my words. “I won’t make that mistake here. Not now that I know what living without you feels like. You’re the only one who’s ever quieted the chaos, who’s made me feel I have worth. I’m never looking back again.”
Overwhelmed, he covers my mouth with his, his hold on me tightening in a way that makes me think he’ll never let go. “I’m never looking back, either.”
“Promise?” I ask, allowing him a glimpse at my vulnerable side.
“Promise.” He touches his lips to mine, then steps off the bed, fishing his wallet out of his pants’ pocket. A condom in hand, he starts to tear the wrapper open.
“Wait.”
He stops mid-rip, giving me a questioning look.
“I want to feel all of you. Like we were about to…” I trail off, averting my eyes.
“Hey.” He drops the condom to the floor before returning to me, cupping my face in his hands. “I am so sorry about how I treated you that day. I never should have…” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “I guess I was just scared.”
“I get it. You’re risking a lot by being with me.”
“That’s not what scares me.”
“Then—”
“I was scared of what I felt for you. What I still feel for you. I needed to know you were all in, that you wanted this…whatever this is. That you wanted more than you’ve ever wanted before.”
With a grin, I pull him on top of me. “I can unequivocally say I want more. Lincoln Moore.”
“Because I’ve never heard that one before,” he jokes.
“Hey!” I playfully slap him. “You’re not supposed to allude to past girlfriends when you’re about to have sex with the new woman in your life. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”
“Possibly.” He smiles a devilish smile. “But I’m happy to have you teach me that lesson.” Lifting his arousal to me, he spreads my wetness around, then pushes into me. Slowly. Deliberately. Perfectly. “Over. And over. And over.”
“God, I like the sound of that.” I bring him closer to me, meeting his rhythm.
I expect him to pick up the pace, but he doesn’t, drawing out his motions in an agonizingly slow rhythm. He was right. This isn’t sex. This is a seduction. Of my mind. My body. My heart.
He buries his head into the crook of my neck as I wrap my legs around him, needing him closer. But no matter how tightly I squeeze, how deep he drives, it’s still not enough, still can’t extinguish the flame building inside, the fire that’s been burning for him since the first time our eyes locked.
I scrape my nails down his back, which elicits a groan, causing him to increase his pace. I meet him thrust for thrust, our bodies a tangled mess of legs and arms as we share this beautiful moment, propelling each other higher and higher until we both shatter in an explosion of ecstasy and bliss.
Spent, Lincoln collapses on top of me, breathing labored. I wrap him in my embrace, kissing his sweat-stained brow.
“Thank you.” He brushes his lips against mine.
“For what? Not making you use a condom?”
He chuckles. “No. I mean, it’s certainly much more enjoyable without one, but thank you for letting me in. For choosing me.”
“It was never a choice with you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Light filters into my bedroom as I stir from a restful sleep, my mind quiet for once. My muscles sore, I stretch, yawning, then steal a glance at the clock on the wall, expecting it to be maybe six or seven in the morning. When I realize it’s after noon, I shoot up, scrambling for my phone. I never sleep in like this, especially on a weekend. Hell, most weekends I don’t sleep. I shudder to think of all the stories I missed last night.
Last night…
I dart my eyes to the opposite side of the bed, finding it distressingly empty, despite the evidence of a body having slept there. Maybe it was too good to be true. Maybe in the light of day, the reality of the risk he’d have to take finally hit Lincoln and he left.
I can’t blame him. He’s seen the mess that is my life. Alcoholic mother. Disappointed father. I just thought things would be different this time. Thought we’d connected in a way we never had. In a way I never had. I actually fell asleep feeling something I hadn’t in so long… Hope.
I bury the notion, needing to focus on the more pressing issue of my mother’s current condition. I step out of bed, yanking a t-shirt over my head before pulling on a pair of yoga pants. When I spy my panties lying on the floor, I stop, a pang squeezing my heart.
On a hard swallow, I pick them up, staring at them. Every other time we’ve spent the night together, we didn’t part ways without him stealing my panties, claiming them as his. This solidifies my original suspicion.
“You’d better not be thinking about keeping those.”
I whirl around, my breath catching when I see Lincoln standing in the doorway, hair mussed, a lazy smile on his face.
His green eyes narrowed, he strides toward me. “They are mine, after all.” With a wink, he reaches for the panties, taking them out of my hand and shoving them into his pocket. When I don’t react with a snarky comment as I normally would, all the playfulness disappears from his expression. “Are you—”
“I thought you left,” I admit, my voice small. “That you realized this was a mistake.”
“Oh, Pixie…” He wraps his arms around me, pulling me agains
t him. I inhale his comforting scent, savoring in his use of my nickname again. “Nothing about you has ever been a mistake. Well, except the way I treated you.” Gripping my chin, he forces my gaze to his. “And I won’t do it again. I will never make you feel like you’re a mistake. Like you’re not worth the risk. Like you’re not enough.”
I swallow hard at the sincerity in his promise, doing my best to stop the tears from forming in the corners of my eyes. I should hate that I’m letting him see my vulnerable side, but it’s cathartic. Around Lincoln, I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not. I don’t have to be this resilient person who’s unaffected by anything. I can lower my walls and let him in. I can finally be me.
“I meant what I said last night. You’re more than enough, Chloe.” He kisses away the tear sliding down my cheek before bringing his lips to mine. “You’re…more.”
“You’re more, too.”
He skims his mouth against mine, the touch light, making me want it deeper. But responsibility dictates otherwise. With a sigh, I break away. “I should go check on my mom.”
“She’s fine,” he says nonchalantly, as if it’s perfectly normal for him to be here during one of her relapses. “Well, as fine as she can be.” He lowers his voice. “I hope you don’t mind, but I called my mother.”
I furrow my brow. “Your mother?”
“She’s a nurse. Used to work in OB, but once she went into recovery, she changed paths and now works in a rehab clinic. I figured it would be good to have some sort of medical professional around.”
“Medical professional?”
He blows out a long breath, running his hand through his hair. “On my mother’s advice, I found your mom’s keys and went through her place this morning.” He brings his hands to my biceps, his expression grave. “Chloe, I think your mother’s been drinking a lot longer than you’ve been led to believe. Definitely much longer than just a few months. Possibly years.”
“How? I—”
“I think she just got good at hiding it. Probably figured if she did everything she was supposed to — went to work, attended meetings, stuff like that — no one would think anything was amiss.”
“But I already went through her house.” I place my hand on my dresser to steady myself. “The night we were discharged from the hospital. When she was sleeping, I made sure she’d gotten rid of everything.”
He arches a brow. “Hidden bottles?”
“What do you mean?”
“Even though it was her house, she had liquor stashed in places you never would have thought. A flask between the mattress and box spring. Some mini bottles hidden in the top of the toilet. She even cut out pages in a few of her hardcover books to fit a bottle. All places my mother also hid alcohol.”
“But she promised…” I clench my fists. “After I had to quit school because she lost her job due to her drinking. After I…” I trail off, bile rising in my throat at the memory of everything I endured to keep a roof over her head. “She promised. Said she finally realized how it was affecting those around her.”
“And she probably did…until the withdrawal got to be too severe and she started sneaking a sip here and there. Then a glass. Then an entire bottle. My mother did the same thing. The only thing that finally helped her beat her addiction was a full detox, not simply going to meetings and seeing a therapist. I won’t lie to you. It’s going to suck, especially with the length of time your mother’s been self-medicating.”
I shake my head, still trying to process the betrayal and lies, my limbs growing heavy under the truth.
He grabs my hand, running his thumb along my knuckles. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I know you don’t like the idea of depending on anyone, that you want to prove to the world you can handle anything and everything life throws at you, but it’s okay to let someone else carry the burden for a while. That’s all I want. To help you carry that burden. Tell me what you need.”
“What I need…,” I begin.
“Anything. Within reason, of course.” He winks.
“What I need…” I meet his eyes, searching them.
“Yes?”
With a smile, I say, “What I really need is a strong cup of coffee.”
He pushes out a laugh, his shoulders relaxing. Bringing me back into his embrace, he places a soft kiss on my head. I breathe him in, wishing I could stay here all day, maybe forever.
“I can do that. I already figured out how to use your espresso machine…thanks to Google.” He winks.
“Good. Because you’ll need to get used to making me espresso if you want to earn your keep around here.” I lift myself onto my toes, brushing my lips against his.
“And I certainly plan on doing just that.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
I won’t lie and say the next few weeks are a walk in the park, because they certainly aren’t. In fact, I can’t remember a more stressful time, a more agonizing experience. Watching my mother’s body shiver and shake as it fights to rid itself of all the toxins has opened my eyes and made me come to terms with the idea that I failed her. That I should have done more than insist she go to meetings and see a therapist. That I should have demanded more than just her word that she’d quit drinking.
I still have trouble reconciling the fact that she hid it so well from me for so many years. Thankfully, Lincoln’s mother, Wendy, has helped me understand better than any high-priced therapist ever has. Seeing how well she’s doing has given me hope my mother will also make a full recovery. Finally.
I think it’s given my mother hope, too.
“Have you left this place at all this week?” a deep voice says as I stand in my mother’s kitchen, heating some soup Wendy brought over.
I look up from the stove, smiling when I see Lincoln standing in the doorway. He’s been more than understanding of my need to stay with my mother these past few weeks. It’s been a long process, one we’ve dragged out even longer by not having my mother quit cold turkey. At first, I didn’t like the idea of continuing to let her drink a single drop, but Wendy eventually convinced me that stepping down her alcohol consumption over a period of a few weeks would be best. After reading up on the severity of alcohol withdrawal side effects, I have to admit, she was right, especially considering my mother’s been able to detox in the comfort of her home instead of a clinic.
“I have,” I insist, stirring the soup before putting the cover on it, allowing it to simmer.
He arches a brow, tilting his head. “For more than a few minutes to answer a phone call on the back deck?”
I open my mouth, then snap it shut. He’s got me there.
“Chloe…” He exhales as he strides toward me, running his hands down my arms in a soothing manner. “You need to give yourself a break.”
“I am.”
“Really? You’ve been holed up here for nearly three weeks now. You’ve put your entire life on hold.”
“I’m still working,” I remind him. “My boss said it was okay for me to work out of the office.” Granted, I didn’t give her the exact details. Just said there was a family emergency.
When Evie heard, she’d called, wondering if everything was okay. I told her not to worry, using my mother’s concussion from the nail gun incident as an excuse. I’ve kept her problem a secret for so long, I’m not sure how to tell my friends without them feeling betrayed.
“Yes, but you’re sacrificing everything else.” He licks his lips, hesitating before lowering his voice. “You haven’t been to class in three weeks.”
“Lincoln…” With a warning tone, I push away from him. I’d hoped we could leave the professor-student relationship in the classroom, where it belongs. To his credit, this is the first time he’s broached the subject, although I have a feeling he’s been wanting to bring it up since the first day I didn’t show up.
“I’m worried about you.”
“Well, don’t,” I snap, defensive, my face heating. I spin from him, stirring the soup with more force
than necessary, the liquid splashing onto the stovetop. “Once my mom gets through these next few days, I’ll go down to campus and officially withdraw from class. Your mom said the first few days without alcohol are the worst. It’s Friday. We stopped permitting her any alcohol Wednesday, so I—”
“Withdraw?” he interrupts, his voice soft. He touches my shoulder, forcing me to face him. “What do you mean?”
“It’s for the best.”
“How?”
“If there’s ever a question about us, you don’t have to worry about any code of conduct.” I’m unable to look into his eyes as I rattle off the response I’d prepared. “If asked, I’ll say I’d already decided to withdraw. That you had nothing to do with that decision. That a family emergency prevented me from filling out the necessary forms. With me not having been in class since we slept together, it’ll make any appearance of impropriety diminish.”
“Why would you withdraw when you’re so close to graduating?”
“Like my father loves to remind me, it’s already taken me ten years to get my bachelors.” Although the idea of him gloating about being right eats away at me. “What’s one more? My mother needs me—”
“Are you sure that’s the case? Or is it the other way around?”
“I’m the one who’s dropped the ball on this for years now.” My voice rises in pitch, my gaze fiery. “The least I can do is make sure I’m here for my mother so she knows she doesn’t have to go through this alone. Like I should have been when I…” I trail off, collecting my thoughts, but Lincoln interrupts me anyway.
“And how do you think she’ll feel when she learns her daughter, who’s mere weeks away from graduating, withdraws to take care of her yet again?” he shoots back in an annoyingly calm tone. Which only irritates me even more.
I take several steps back as my eyes dart around the room, his analytical stare trained on me. He squints, a puzzle piece falling into place.