by T. K. Leigh
“I remember Fluffy.” He returns to the stove to check on the steaks searing on the burner, coating them with some melted butter from the pan.
I do my best not to gawk. Yes, I love a muscular chest and chiseled abs, but there’s something incredibly sexy about Lincoln’s broad shoulders and sculpted back that tapers into a defined waist. And those dimples right above his shorts beg to be licked. But I don’t. That might be a little creepy. I know I’d be creeped out if I were cooking and he came up and licked my lower back. Then again…
“And it’s a good thing we just had sex because bringing Fluffy up in conversation would probably curse me,” Lincoln adds as he turns around, his voice and sudden motion forcing my eyes up to his. A sly smirk tugs on his mouth when he realizes he caught me ogling his physique. He stalks toward me, using his body to press me against the island. “But I have a feeling you’d be able to lift any curse.” He grinds against me, making his erection known.
“Down boy. Do you need a cold shower?” I push him away. “What I meant was it just occurred to me that Midge’s cat, Pigpen, is Fluffy. You said you gave the cat to your boss after they’d lost theirs.”
“I did.” He walks back to the stove. “And yes. Fluffy’s name is now Pigpen.”
“Don’t you find that incredible?”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. If you’d mentioned the name he has now, I would have pushed to find out who your boss was. Let’s face it. Pigpen isn’t exactly a common name for a cat.”
“It is if you’re a Peanuts fan.” He transfers the steaks to a baking sheet before placing them into the hot oven, setting a timer for six minutes.
“True, but it would have provoked a follow-up.” I squint, considering all the pieces that had to fall into place for us to end up together. “And if I’d learned you worked as an attorney for the Times, I never would have so much as entertained the idea of sleeping with you, let alone kissing you.”
“So you would have friend zoned me?” Cocking a brow, he approaches me, pushing the cutting board to the side. With incredible ease, he grabs my ass and lifts me onto the surface of the island, settling between my legs.
“No. You would have been in the no-zone.”
“Not even the friend zone? At least there I could have attempted to use my amazing powers of persuasion.” He curves into me, his mouth landing on my neck, the way he sucks and licks the perfect mixture of carnal and reverent.
“That would have been futile,” I respond breathily. “I draw a hard line in certain matters.”
“Is that right?” He slowly circles his hips, the friction jumpstarting my libido, as if the ol’ girl needs an excuse.
“God yes.” I throw my head back as he continues moving against me, his unshaven jaw bruising my skin. “That is so right.”
He abruptly pulls away, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Now who needs a cold shower?” With playful arrogance, he retreats from me, heading toward the counter to take the baked potatoes out of the foil.
Refusing to let him beat me at this little game, I slide off the island, nonchalantly sauntering up to the sink. I make it look like I’m about to rinse the berries I set aside to top the cheesecake I’d brought over.
“Cold shower, huh?”
“That’s right.”
In one quick move, I yank the hose from the faucet, spraying him with the water.
He stiffens, spinning around to face me, but he makes no attempt to get out of the line of fire. His lips curl with a sinister smile as he advances, his steps slow, deliberate, unforgiving. When he grabs the bowl of heavy cream I’d whipped to go with our dessert, a devilish glint flashes in his eyes.
I take the pressure off the water, but that doesn’t stop him from scooping whipped cream out of the bowl and smearing it down my face.
I stand completely still for a moment, the shock leaving me frozen. Then I wipe some of the cream off my face, making a show of seductively licking my fingers, even though I shudder to think what I look like. With a devious grin, I grab a handful of blackberries from the carton on the counter. His gaze remains glued to mine, watching me with interest as I smash them into his chest, rubbing the juices all over his body.
He tries to remain serious, but I notice the faintest hint of his mouth lifting in a smile. “You’re in trouble now, Pixie,” he warns as he goes to hook an arm around my waist.
Squealing, I attempt to escape him, but slip on the wet floor, taking him down with me. We land with a hard thump, the room momentarily silent. Then we break out in laughter, the sound echoing against the high ceilings.
“I’ve always wanted to add food into the mix,” I joke. “But I figured we’d start with whipped cream on my nipples. Maybe a little chocolate syrup. Not sure how erotic the face can be.”
“Oh, baby, I guarantee I can make it hot for you.” Grinning, he drags his tongue along my jawline, tasting the sweet treat, and I moan, succumbing to him.
When the timer buzzes, neither one of us are interested in those steaks anymore.
The sensation of warm lips brushing against my temple slowly stirs me from sleep. Normally I hate to be woken, treasuring every second of sleep I can get. But these days, my reality seems better than my dreams. And who wouldn’t want to be awoken by such a beautiful kiss? It worked for Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. They didn’t groan and roll over, pushing their Prince away, begging in a raspy voice for five more minutes of slumber. And neither do I.
“Morning,” I say, melting into Lincoln’s lingering kiss.
“Morning.”
My eyes flutter open, but the room is still dark, day not having broken just yet, although the glow coming from the windows tells me it will soon.
“What time is it?”
“Six.”
I shift, turning my eyes to his. “An emergency at work?”
A slight smile curves his lips. “No. It’s my day at the university. I wanted to go early and finish grading papers so I can turn in my final grades.”
“Final grades?” I arch a single brow.
Slowly nodding, he erases the distance between us. “And we’ll be one step closer to finally being free. To finally being us.”
A fluttering erupts in my stomach when his mouth skims mine, his kiss hesitant and soft. As much as I love his hunger-filled kisses that brim with so much desperation and passion, these are my favorite. These gentle exchanges in our stolen moments before dawn.
“I think this calls for a celebration.”
I feel his lips curve up. “I agree.” The scruff of his beard scrapes me as he trails kisses from my mouth and along my neckline.
“What did you have in mind?” I crane my head, allowing him better access. His hand roams the contours of my frame, and I part my legs, moaning when he grazes against me.
“I can think of a few things,” he answers coyly, nipping at my skin, driving me even more wild. “One in particular that I’ve been fantasizing about for months now.”
“What’s that?” I pant.
He pauses, and I can almost see the smile crawling across his mouth. Then he pulls back. “Meet me at The Living Room in the Park Hyatt tonight.”
My eyes fly open as I prop myself up onto my elbows, searching his gaze. “Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he says nonchalantly, straightening himself, buttoning his suit jacket. “It’s fitting, if you ask me. Starting this new chapter where it all began. Where you finally gave me a chance.” Then he gently touches his lips to mine, erasing any trepidation. “Even more so considering today marks four months since the blackout that changed my life.”
I sigh into him, unable to believe it’s been that long. In some respects, it feels like it has been longer than four months, considering everything we’ve been through. In other ways, it seems like it was just yesterday that I walked into that classroom and learned the man I’d been having incredible sex with was my First Amendment Law professor.
“The happiest, mos
t excruciating, amazing, heart-wrenching four months of my life. But I’d do it all over again if it meant I’d still be here with you.” When he cups my cheek, I close my eyes, savoring the feel of his rough hands against my smooth skin. His mouth brushes mine and I melt into his soft kiss. “So, eight o’clock?”
I simply nod, ignoring my internal voice of reason that tells me we should still be careful, that we won’t be in the clear just because he submitted my final grade. But when have I ever listened to reason? If I had, I never would have run out of the bar all those weeks ago, telling Nora and Evie I had to go see a man about a pair of panties. Then I wouldn’t be here. Sometimes, it pays to take a risk.
“I can’t wait.”
“Either can I.” Lincoln treats me to one last kiss, then leaves me alone in his large bed.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Tapping my fingernails against the bar, I check the time to see it’s nearly 8:20, growing antsy with each passing minute that Lincoln doesn’t show up. Did someone put the pieces together? Was my father nearby when one of my texts flashed on Lincoln’s phone? Did someone see us during one of our supposed clandestine meetings and report him to the dean? Or, worse, my father?
A ding rips through the background noise of the bar and I flick my eyes to my cell, blowing out a breath when Lincoln’s name pops up on the screen.
Play along. No questions.
Confused, I’m about to text back when I notice movement to my left and shift my eyes in its direction.
“Is this seat taken?”
“Fuck me,” I murmur, swallowing hard as I stare at the man in front of me.
He’s in a different suit than the one he wore this morning. His hair glistens, evidencing a recent shower, his beard neatly groomed. But that’s not what has me squirming in my seat. It’s the British accent with which he speaks. It sounds remarkably authentic. And sexy. Holy shit, is it sexy. I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to this man. Didn’t think it were humanly possible.
I was so wrong.
“Miss?” he says with a smirk, knowing all too well what has my panties about to combust.
Trying to play it cool, I take a moment to compose myself, then smile slyly. “It is now.”
With a wicked shine in his eyes, he assumes the seat, flagging down the bartender. I simply watch him, trying to figure out exactly what game we’re playing. No matter what, I have a feeling it’s going to be a lot of fun.
“You here alone?” he asks after he swallows a sip of his scotch, his lips wet from the remnants of the liquid.
“It appears I am.” I smooth the lines of my skirt.
“Is that so?”
“I was supposed to meet someone.” I sigh in mock disappointment. “But it looks like he stood me up.”
A salacious smile builds on his mouth. “His loss is my gain.” He eyes my nearly empty martini. “Can I buy you another?”
I lean back in my chair. “I should probably just go home and forget about tonight, considering it appears my date has.” I pinch my lips together, interested to see how Lincoln plays this.
“You’re right. You definitely should go home.” His gaze darkens, a warning. “But don’t you think you’d have more fun with me than going back to your place with nothing to distract you from thinking about some prick who apparently has horrible taste.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
I shrug. “Humor me.”
“He stood you up.” He rakes his gaze down my body, and desire flickers in his deep pools. I uncross and re-cross my legs, allowing the slit of my dress to reveal the skin of my thigh. Jaw tightening, nostrils flaring, he reluctantly lifts his eyes to mine. “No man in his right mind would stand up a woman as stunningly beautiful as you.”
He inches toward me, his lips close. I’d give anything to erase that last bit of space between us and taste him, but I don’t, remembering the game we’re playing. And I certainly love these games.
“Give me one drink to prove it to you. If you’re not convinced, you can go on your way.”
“And if I am convinced?” I exhale.
“Then you come up to my room and I make you forget all about this man who isn’t worth your time.”
“And how do you hope to do that?” I bat my lashes.
“Use your imagination.” His mouth skims against mine, causing a shiver to roll through me. Then he pulls back, the epitome of restraint.
“I do have a very active imagination.”
He lifts his scotch to his lips. “That’s what I’m banking on.” My gaze lingers on him as he swirls the liquid, then swallows. Returning his glass to the bar, he focuses his attention on me. “So, what do you say? One drink with me, then maybe one night where you can have all your needs met? Or go home all alone?”
I pause, enjoying the anticipation in his expression before nodding. “One drink.”
“Good girl.” He leers at me for a moment, then waves down the bartender.
Once he turns his attention away from me, I exhale a long breath. I’ve shared a bed with this man numerous times, but the rush of exhilaration filling me makes me feel like we’re two strangers, my heart pounding a thunderous rhythm.
When the bartender sets my drink in front of me, I offer him a smile.
“I took a guess at what kind of vodka you’d prefer,” Lincoln states, reminding me of a similar conversation back in Vegas. “But something made me think you were a Belvedere girl.” He leans toward me, running a finger down my arm. “Smooth. Layered. Sophisticated.”
I take a sip of my drink before setting the glass back on the bar. “How did you know I liked my martini dirty?” I pass him a sly grin, more than aware of what line’s about to follow.
He hovers closer still, the nearness of his lips unhinging me. “I had a feeling you liked things…dirty.”
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”
His lips ghost against mine, teasing me, making me desperate for more, regardless of the fact we’re in public and anyone can see. Lincoln may have turned in his final grades, but we’re still on rocky ground. We will be for a while. Seeing us together like this when I’m still technically a student will certainly raise eyebrows. Hell, seeing us together like this even a few months from now will raise eyebrows.
“You have no idea,” he growls, jaw tensing, pupils dilating. I brace myself for the kiss I sense is coming. But it never does. He retreats, the foot or so between us feeling like miles.
“So, I assume you’re not from around here.” Brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, I bring my glass to my mouth, trying to steady my trembling hand.
“What gave it away?” he jokes slyly.
“All non-New Yorkers have a sign on their foreheads. Only true New Yorkers can see it.”
“Is that right?”
“Sure is.”
“I see.” He looks forward, pretending to pay attention to the Yankees game on TV, but I know the only interest he has in the game is the Yankees losing. Like his father, Lincoln has two favorite baseball teams. The Mets, and anyone playing the Yankees.
“So, where are you from?” I ask after a brief silence, trying to spark conversation.
“Does it matter?” His tone isn’t curt. More sensual and amused.
“Excuse me?”
“Does it matter?” he repeats. “I’m not from here. I fly back home tomorrow, so after tonight, you’ll never see me again.”
“I was just trying to make small talk.”
“Is that what you like? Small talk?”
After considering his question, I blow out a breath. “I find it dull and ordinary, but it appears most people opt for these kinds of mundane questions.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“Because they’re too scared to ask what’s really on their mind. Scared to voice their deepest desires.”
His mouth lifts into a grin, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Take all the rules off the table. Forget
about propriety and custom. What would you ask me?”
I curve toward him, bringing my hand to his thigh. His pupils dilate as I inch farther up his leg. “If I were to agree to accompany you upstairs, what did you have in mind?”
“A magician never reveals all his secrets.” He winks. “Need to give you a reason to come…if only for curiosity’s sake.”
“That may be true, but I never buy anything sight unseen. Or at least without a description of what I can expect.”
“A description?” He cocks a brow.
“Yes. A description.” I lean back, removing my hand from him in the hopes the lack of touch pushes him to his breaking point, just as it does me. But he’s still as composed as ever.
“Very well.” He faces forward, brushing the pad of his thumb along his bottom lip. “I’ll finish my scotch, thanking you for the enlightening conversation, and slide my keycard your way, leaving the ball in your court, as the saying goes. You’ll be unsure at first, wondering if you can do this, if you can really take that key and go up to a stranger’s room. But your desperate need to forget your inhibitions for one night will get the better of you.” His tone is even and measured, as if discussing an important business deal instead of his plans of seduction.
“You think so?”
“I do. So you’ll take that key and use it. You’ll walk inside my room, and neither one of us will say a single word. We won’t need them. We’ll communicate our need with our bodies. You’ll be so overcome with an urge to feel me, you’ll try to strip off all my clothes, but I won’t let you.”
“You won’t?”
“No.” He slowly shakes his head. “Not yet. That’s the problem with all these other men you’ve dated.”
“And what’s that exactly?” I shoot back, playfully rolling my eyes.
He leans toward me. “They didn’t take their time to seduce you. Because they’re just boys.”
“I’ve dated older men,” I say very matter-of-factly.
“Doesn’t matter. They’re still boys. A woman should be savored, like a fine wine, like the delicacy she is. Boys screw. I don’t.”