I told him Ramona has a show tomorrow night, too, but the man has figured out the loophole. Looking at him, and feeling what I feel for him, I won’t be able to turn him down. I’m out of excuses, and it breaks my heart he’s this nervous because it means he thinks I may say no.
“Turner is with Tasha and Isaac?” I ask casually.
He nods again. “For as long as I’m away, they have him.”
I don’t hesitate. “Let me pack a bag quickly.”
Aspen’s smile tells me she’s thinking about pigs, grease, and unfurling, but I narrow my eyes at her on my way by to keep her silent. I ask her if she can take Chonk for the night and she agrees. It’s a quick packing process because I already have a toiletry bag ready and a weekender bag filled with overnight clothing. I add some warm stuff and grab a pair of snow boots and exit a few minutes later. Lincoln is waiting by the stairs. He takes the bag from me as I remind Aspen to lock up behind us. She was invited tonight too, but already had plans to roll around in the hay with her boyfriend. I wrap a shawl around my shoulders, and tuck my long, feathery Patagonia jacket under an arm. I’m not above ruining my dress for the sake of freezing, depending on how far we have to park from the gallery.
It’s oddly silent as I heave my ass into his truck and he closes the door behind me. When he gets into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, he slaps his hands on the steering wheel, but doesn’t make a move to put it in gear.
“I hate this.”
“What?” My voice shakes.
“This,” he says, motioning between our bodies. “It feels like I’m losing you.”
Intuitive. Scary. His gaze flicks to meet mine and my whole body warms. “You aren’t.”
He hangs his head. “I heard from Rena, and I would never worry you over it, except she admitted defeat, Maeve. She’s done. We have nothing to worry about. You have nothing to worry about. You’re completely safe now. I thought maybe you were feeling like you had to watch your back, and that’s why I’m telling you this.”
“She said that?” The relief courses through my veins and my pulse hammers. This is great news. Rufio must have spoken to her, and she decided we weren’t worth it. I wonder if that means I have to hold up my side of the bargain still. If I’m not becoming human capital, surely I don’t owe him. Right? It’s not like I can phone him up and ask.
“She said that,” Lincoln replies. “Does that make you feel… differently?”
I swallow down the emotion. He knows me so well that it’s odd to be living in a reality where someone got this close without my permission. Everyone knows I don’t believe in fate, but the concept of soulmates is beginning to look more and more plausible. Nothing explains our connection or how we fell together. “Lincoln, I couldn’t stop loving you even if I wanted to. You know this, right?”
“I got shot. It was brutal. I got better. Things are pretty stagnant, so I think it’s normal I’m worried.”
I exhale a pent-up breath. “Is this all about sex? Because we haven’t had sex since the shooting?”
Lincoln groans. “I want to have sex with you, yes, but I also want to talk to you. Not surface-level stuff. The deep stuff. It’s why I want to go to the cabin with you without any interruptions. Just us. Stripped down raw conversation.”
I tilt my head in question. “It seems you were able to sneak multiple double entendres there.” Opening my mouth, I let out a long breath. “I do feel better knowing that Rena has put down her weapons. I can breathe.” If he knew how relieved I was, I’d scare him, and then be forced into telling him about the deal. Lincoln deserves complete transparency, but I know deep down, I can’t give it to him. I swallow hard. “I think raw conversation is exactly what we need, entendres aside.”
“Entendres inside, too?” Lincoln quips, thick lips in a pout.
As carefully as I can in this wet suit of a dress, I scoot over and take his face with one hand. His neck works as he swallows, and his lips part. “Tonight,” I say, promising him with my eyes before kissing him slowly—seductively, in a languid way so I can savor his taste on my lips and tongue.
Lincoln breathes out roughly. “I’ve missed you.” We kissed yesterday, but it wasn’t like this—no holds barred, giving in to my desires. Angling his body toward mine, he takes my neck in his hands and slaughters the kiss I just gave him with ferocity. His hands are warm against my skin and his lips crush mine. His breathing is erratic, and I grasp his jacket, trying to find purchase. I can’t get near enough. I want to drown in what being close to him makes me feel. He’s safe now. We’re safe to be together and for the first time in weeks, I can just let… go. Almost.
“Ramona,” I whisper in between jagged breaths. “We’re going to be late.”
Lincoln pulls away, but keeps my face in his hands. “This can wait until tonight.” The way he swallows, like he’s trying to rid himself of lust, makes me wet.
“You’re going to stop being this hot, right? I’m going to soak my dress.”
His eyes slit. “If you don’t stop talking like that, it’s not going to wait until tonight.”
I pinch my lips between two fingers. I’ll ignore the crackling and popping residing in the space between us for Ramona. She’s about the only person I’d grant this boon.
“Okay, okay. I’m driving. But Maeve, know I’m going to be thinking about that kiss and what’s coming next all night long.”
Lincoln does. He reminds me every time I glance his way, by dragging a finger over his lips nonchalantly. Sometimes he does it without making eye contact, but he senses I’m glancing his way. Like now, as I sip a glass of champagne and engage the man in front of me in conversation about Ramona’s art. He’s talking about the juxtaposition of colors Ramona used in the composition of what the hell, and he said what. I’m nodding along and smiling wide.
“Which is your favorite?” the man asks.
I look at him for the first time for more than a half second. He’s gazing at my face intently, like he truly cares what my response is. The truth is, I don’t know much about her paintings, but I know the first one she painted after Stavros died. It’s darker than the rest, has a haunting, taunting life-form of its own.
I point at the black abstract piece in the corner. “That one,” I breathe. “She really put a lot into that piece.”
As I admire the wisps and strokes, I catch sight of Ramona. Her dress is beautiful, and she’s more put together than I’ve seen her since the funeral. Her hair and makeup are flawless. That’s the point though. To look as shiny as the art you’re creating. I see through it though. The dark circles that aren’t quite hidden with concealer. The way her mouth downturns when she believes no one is looking. The edge of pain she’s constantly balancing on top of. My neck works as I swallow.
“I’ll buy that one, then,” he says, stealing me away from my thoughts.
I raise my brow. “Oh, that’s why you were asking.” Clearing my throat, I bring my attention back to the man. “Ramona will be so pleased.” I mean, I think that’s the point. Selling them off after the show.
He’s a little older, his eyes crinkling at the corner when he lowers his voice and says, “I see you’re here by yourself tonight. I was hoping you’d join me for a drink at my place. It’s walking distance from here.”
A fair assessment as Lincoln and I have worked the crowd separately. A little because being near him when the sexual tension has reached fever pitch is hard, but also because I’ve legitimately been busy. Besides Ramona, I know the most about her and her work. This is the first time I’ve been stopped by someone this long.
“Uh, so will you still buy Ramona’s painting if I tell you I’m not here alone?” I smile big and awkward. Leaning slightly, I spy Lincoln watching me with eagle eyes. He must see the ask in my eyes, because he stalks across the room like a gentleman dressed to kill.
He stops when he’s next to the man, just in his line of sight. “Ramona needs you, Maeve.” His voice is smooth, but holds an edge. “Why he
llo,” Lincoln says to the man. Yeah, that had more than an edge. I excuse myself to find Ramona to tell her the good news.
She’s draining a champagne flute when I walk up. “Slow down. You sold the black painting to the guy behind me getting frightened by Lincoln right now.”
She peeks.
“You might need to hold an intelligent conversation. One that you don’t want to be drunk for.” It’s a gentle tease because I know how much a sale would mean to her, but also, she really shouldn’t get drunk at her own show.
“The dynasty?” she replies, looking at the black painting. “That’s great.”
“The dynasty,” I reply, frowning as I study it. “What the hell does it have anything to do with a dynasty. It’s black lines.” This brings up the memory of one of our first fights in college. She was smearing paint on a canvas and I told her it wasn’t art. Bad move.
“Die, nasty bitch,” Ramona says, drawing each word out, then shrugs. “Figure it would be easier to sell if I left bitch out. More professional, you know.” She sighs and looks at me. “I have to tell you something.”
“Every time you’ve said that during the course of our lives, nothing good has come of it,” I reply.
She shakes her head. “You’ve been so inside your head about Rena and then taking care of Lincoln, that I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”
“You can talk to me about anything at any time and you know that. I’m offended.”
“Don’t be offended, it’s just that, it’s also sort of weird. You know Stavros’ cousin, Vin? You met him when you were in Europe that one time that… you probably don’t remember well because we drank too much wine.”
Oh, I have to pull way back in the memory banks. I’ve visited Ramona in Europe a few times. “It’s hazy, but if I said tall, dark, and handsome, I’d be close?”
She shifts on her high heel and fidgets with an oversized bracelet.
“Why do I need to remember him?”
“So, he’s here. In Colorado. We reconnected after the funeral in Italy and he wanted to visit me. I didn’t tell you because it felt kind of weird. Having Vin at my place and I knew what you would think.”
I hold up a hand. “Wait, don’t tell me. I’d think exactly what is going on between you two, and you’d hate that,” I clap back. “Close?”
“Well, yeah, kind of. We hit it off and well, things are progressing along. It’s weird, I admit, but he makes me feel better.” Telling her she is quite possibly only masking the pain won’t be comfortable, but I’m in the camp that whatever works for you, is perfect.
Furrowing my brow, I ask, “Where the hell does he go when I come over?” I remember the time I had to hide in Lincoln’s closet and wince. “Does he hide from me?”
“No, no. Of course not, but Maeve, you’re predictable. You come over the same time every day and he leaves before you come over.”
I pull back, a little offended, but also happy because this is big progress. “Is it too soon? I hate asking because I always hated when people asked when or if I would be ready to date. You’re okay up here?” I tap her head with my pointer finger lightly. “I want you to be happy. I, out of all people, would never judge you. You could have told me.”
Ramona twirls a gaudy ring on her middle finger. “I was still judging myself, because he’s Stavros’ cousin. I needed some time to figure out where my head was.” Her gaze locks on mine. “And he makes me happy, so I’m over worrying about timelines or what his family members might think. I have to live my life.”
I tear up a little. She’s mastered a thing that took my entire life to understand. Life is short, and you only have one shot. “If he’s not worried about what his family members will think, neither should you. I’m happy for you.” Hugging her softly so I don’t mess up her hair, I remind her that I love her.
Her smile is sweet when she pulls back and swallows hard. “I also didn’t tell you because I know how long it took you to move on, and well, it felt almost lewd and disrespectful.”
I swat her shoulder. “Since when do you care about hurting my feelings?”
She sucks in a deep breath, and her eyes flit to someone behind me. “Since you finally seem to be on the right track, Maeve.” I turn my head to follow her line of vision and see Lincoln. “Why don’t you guys get out of here?” I told her about our plans to head up to the mountains when we arrived. “You sold a painting. You’ve earned your keep.”
I eye her warily. “Are you sure? You don’t need help?”
“With what? I have one more night and well, Vin is on his way. He’ll take me home.”
“As your best friend, I should probably wait and talk to him before I leave.”
Ramona folds her arms across her chest. “There will be plenty of time for that. By the way that man is eyeing you down, he seems to be in a hurry. Go have fun.”
A well-dressed woman pardons herself for cutting into our conversation to ask Ramona about a piece of artwork. Politely, I excuse myself and wind my way around a group of people to find Lincoln. He’s standing under a spotlight, hands tucked in his pocket, with his back straight—debonair, exceptionally handsome. My next breath lodges in my throat as I admire him, and I forget we’re not alone. It feels that way right now. Like we’re the only two people who exist, and our sole purpose on Earth is to have each other. Lightning striking me down right now would have a lesser effect on me. I take one more step toward him. Now I’m standing in the light with him.
Tilting my face up to see his shadowy one, I say, “Ramona said I can take off. If you’re ready.”
Lincoln exhales loudly. He, too, was holding his breath as I approached. Butterflies flap in my stomach and I feel lightheaded. He grabs my upper arms. “I thought you’d never ask. Need to do anything before we exit stage left?”
I shake my head. There’s a back room where I stashed my purse and jacket. I wiggle my fingers at Ramona when I catch her eye, and Lincoln follows me into the room. As soon as the heavy door clicks shut, he’s on me—his hands on my wrists, backing me up to the wall.
“Watching you without being able to touch you, have you,” he says, neck working to swallow. “Was more torturous than anything I’ve had to endure. Watching other men look at you and know without a shadow of doubt they want you was too much.”
I lose my breath. “I’m yours, Lincoln. I’ve been yours since the day we met.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t feel like that.”
He’s feeling insecure in the weird space we’re in right now. If only he knew how much I loved him. What I’d do to keep him safe, maybe he would understand that I will never belong to anyone else the way I belong to him. I tip my chin up to seek out his kiss, but he doesn’t move. He’s waiting, and breathing, and trying to suck my soul with a mere look. I say his name in a whisper, but his grip tightens on my wrists and his restraint wanes. I lick my lips and his gaze flicks to them.
“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” I say. “I’m yours in all ways. Mind, body, and soul. I’m sorry if anything I’ve said or done has given you a different impression.”
Lincoln slants his mouth over mine and silences me with a kiss I feel throughout my body. Even my core clenches with need at the rush he gives me. He groans when I slip my tongue into his mouth to slide against his. The heat from his body seeps through his shirt and jacket and envelops me. This is the feeling people would die for. Because it’s in moments like these that I can actually feel how much Lincoln loves me. I lived most of my life without the feeling, so it hits me hard and swift. Denying it would be foolish and like my friend just taught me, life is short. Live harder than the blows dealt your way.
His whole body is hungry. His grip loosens and I pull away from his hands to grab his face and neck. Lincoln’s hands float to my hips. The kiss slows, and his teeth knock against mine. I feel his breaths pushing against my chest. My lips sting from the intensity of his mouth and they feel swollen. He pulls back, but I keep my hands resting on the
sides of his face.
“That feels like you’re mine,” he says, tone low.
Running my fingers down, I drag my pointer finger across his lower lip. He hasn’t realized I’ve never asked if he’ll always be mine, because I know I’d give him up in a heartbeat if it was in his best interest. I hope he never questions it.
“I love you, Maeve.”
I swallow hard. I grin through the emotional tears I feel welling. “Ditto.”
“Forever?” he asks, questions in his eyes.
A tiny gasp escapes my lips. He sees it. It’s not a lie. “Yes.” But I don’t know if potentially loving him from afar counts in his mind.
Chapter 8
Maeve
Lincoln is on his knees as he lights the fire in the living room of the cozy cabin. I thought we’d get stuck on the winding roads on the way here, but we made it just as the snow started really coming down. The first thing I did was remove the dress while Lincoln secured the house. Something he assured me he does anytime he enters a place he isn’t familiar with, and not because he’s worried someone is going to press their lips on glass somewhere.
“That sure is a good look on you,” I say, watching the tuxedo jacket bunch across his shoulders. “I’m afraid I’m a little underdressed for the occasion.”
He grins over his shoulder. I’m wearing a sweatsuit. Not the cute, flattering kind, either. The kind you wear when you’re on your period and don’t plan on leaving your bed all day. “I’ll have you even more underdressed in no time.” He winks and turns back to stoke the flames. The irony is that by watching him mess with the fire in a tux, he’s stoking my fire, too.
I sit on a thick, furry throw that’s adjacent to the fireplace. It’s white and luxurious. “This place is beautiful. How did you find it?” I ask.
“It’s Macho’s place. He mentioned it when we were at the ranch, and well, I called in a favor. Luckily, no one else was using it this weekend.”
It really is stunning, with that mountain charm you expect from a cabin high up in the Rocky Mountains. It’s also kind of far away from civilization. A fact that used to go in the positive column for me, but now makes me kind of nervous. I clear my throat and tuck my feet underneath me as I get more comfortable. “What exactly did Rena say?” I have to know more. It’s niggling in the back of my mind. He talked to her and didn’t tell me straight away. That’s kind of odd, but she’s screwed him over so many times, he probably wasn’t sure what to make of the conversation. Right?
On His Six : A Summit Seduction SEAL Novel (The Summit Seduction SEAL Duet Book 2) Page 7