by Stacey Lynn
"You going to let me in?" he asks in that deep, rumbly voice of his.
I clear my throat and step back, effectively pushing Jamie away from him, too.
"Holy cow," she leans in and whispers in my ear. "I think my ovaries just exploded from the hotness."
Lynx's lips twitch. He totally heard her. We're all crammed together in my tiny entryway.
I nudge my elbow into Jamie's gut.
"Weren't you leaving?" I ask, glaring at her over my shoulder.
"Yes. Yes, I was. I am. But...wow..." Her eyes skim Lynx's body and something ugly tightens in my chest as I watch her checking out my man.
I can't stop myself from glaring at her. "Jamie."
She blinks and flashes me innocent eyes.
"Go home," I tell her. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."
She grins at Lynx. "Thanks for the chocolates. They were delish!"
I laugh as Lynx winks at her. She moves to my side and I swear she almost swoons right into me. I get it.
"Get out of here, Jamie."
She raises her hand. "I'm going. I'm going."
"Nice to meet you," Lynx says and holds out his hand. "Lynx Anders."
She shakes his hand and sighs. Then she glances at me over her shoulder. "You...have fun tonight. And tell me all about it tomorrow."
I open the door and kick her in the back of her knee. "Get out of here."
She waves her hand in the air as she leaves, singing, "See you tomorrow! Have fun, you two. And remember: no glove, no love!"
I shut the door before she's barely crossed the threshold, and the slamming sound echoes in my small apartment.
Lynx grins at the door before turning that grin on me. He takes a step forward, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
"Hey. Hoped you weren't sleeping."
I take a step back. "Sounded like it wouldn't have mattered, anyway."
Lynx shakes his head, his grin turning into a smirk as he takes another step toward me. He reaches out and brushes his fingers down the length of my hair, his eyes trained on his movement. "Sounds like you were working late."
"Big wedding, Saturday," I manage to get out through my thickening throat.
Gah. He's only touching my hair.
I suddenly want to feel that touch everywhere.
"So Jamie ate all the chocolates I sent to you?"
"Not all of them," I admit, smiling despite the fact that he has completely stunned me. I'm not used to soft, lingering touches and gazes with half-hooded eyes. He looks a little bit drunk, but he's close enough that I can't smell alcohol on his breath. "I don't really have a big sweet tooth, to be honest."
He licks his lips and leans forward, brushing his mouth against my cheek. "Finally. Something real about you I didn't have to work for. Let's keep that up."
I frown and he pulls back.
I feel funny. Warm and tingly and completely turned on.
"Why are you here, Lynx?" I ask, my voice turning breathy.
"Had a counseling session tonight. Didn't go well and I went home and tried to forget all the shit I had to talk about, but then I realized I just missed you."
Heart...puddle...floor.
Where did this gushy woman come from?
He's turned me to mush with his blatant honesty and soft gazes.
"Oh," I breathe out on a sigh, leaning into his touch. "That's um...that's really nice."
"Yeah." He dips his chin, running his nose along my cheekbone, back to my ear. "How about I show you how much I missed you?"
Only an idiot would say no.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SARAH
LYNX TAKES MY hand and pulls me toward my bedroom.
When we reach it, he shuts the door behind me and we’re enclosed in my bedroom, where I have sheets flung all over the bed and clothes from the morning tossed all over the floor because it took me six different outfits to find one that I liked. Then, when I got home and before Jamie showed up, I flung that outfit on the floor in favor of yoga pants and a Vikings sweatshirt that's so old it has holes in it around the collar and wrists. Two of the holes are large enough that I can slide my thumbs through them, helping to keep my hands warmer in the brutal Chicago winters.
My lips part and a breath slides through them as Lynx's gaze rakes over my completely covered body.
He crosses his arms over his chest and a slight twitch happens on one side of his lips when he brings his eyes back to mine. "Take off your clothes."
I swallow a lump in my throat.
He's suddenly so serious, with his heated dark brown eyes focused solely on my light green ones.
My pulse begins to beat a staccato rhythm. "What?"
One eyebrow of his slowly rises. "I want to see you naked. Been thinking about this body since the last time I saw you."
Well, then.
I do what he asks, pulling my overly large gray sweatshirt over my head and tossing it to the floor with the rest of my forgotten clothes. The move dishevels my ponytail, so I take out the holder, letting my blond hair fall to my back, and I fling the band toward my nearby dresser.
My hands go to my pants and I slide them down my thighs, fighting a shiver from my already sensitive flesh.
I've never let a man tell me what to do. With Lynx, I never want to tell him no, regardless of what he asks.
Once I kick off my pants, Lynx's eyebrow arches further and his lips press together. "No panties?"
I pull my lips to the side and shake my head, unable to speak.
"Bra," he commands.
My hands go to my back and I unclasp it, completely focused on the fact that Lynx is prowling closer to me. His eyes are set on my chest when I drop my bra.
My nipples tighten in response to his searing gaze and I inhale a quick breath.
This man undoes me.
As he takes another step closer, I realize I'm concerned about what he thinks of my body.
I've never cared about that before.
I want a guy, I get a guy. That's not bragging; it's just what happens.
But now, being in the semi-dark with Lynx, I find myself fighting the urge to cover my breasts. Or my hips. They might be too wide. Or not wide enough.
Which makes no sense.
I've got a good body.
I work hard for it.
I run three miles three times a week, weight lift two others, and take two rest days a week—usually Saturday and Monday, because who wants to start their weekend, or their week, in the gym. I work hard because I enjoy living, and to do that I want to be able to live guilt-free.
I like partying on the weekends with whatever I want to drink. I eat low-carb meals during the day, because I like sitting down at night, able to enjoy whatever dinners I want, including pad thai and pizza full of carbs with my TV remote in one hand and a bowl of chips and dip in the other.
Because let's face it: chips and dip go together like...well, me and chips and dip. We're inseparable.
I've never cared what a man has thought before.
He's also seen my body dozens of times before.
Which is what makes this moment weird.
I don't do weird. When things get weird, I split. Yet I'm still standing here.
Still wanting him.
"Lynx," I breathe out. I'm uncertain if it's a question or a plea until he reaches out and wraps one of his hands on my waist, his thumb brushing along the sensitive skin just inside my hipbone.
"You're so beautiful."
I blink.
He tilts his head to the side. "Do you doubt that?"
"I'm glad you think so."
I become dizzy when he smiles and his thumb on my skin begins drawing little circles.
His other hand comes up and frames the side of my face. I lean into his touch, loving the feel of his callused skin on mine and his scent. He radiates strength and confidence, but also in this moment, tenderness I haven't felt before.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, when his head
tilts down and his lips press against mine.
I open my mouth to him immediately, letting him slide his tongue inside.
I melt into him as his kiss warms me from the inside out.
His hand tightens on my waist and my cheek, pulling me to him when his arm slides to my back. He steps us toward the bed and he follows me down, gently. Slowly.
Softly.
As we begin to move together, my knees falling open so he can seat himself against me, my hands begin roaming his body, removing his shirt from him and pushing down his pants with the heels of my feet.
He pulls away only to finish ripping off his shirt and then his mouth is back on me.
He kisses me like he needs me and I moan into his mouth, pressing my bare skin against his.
With one kiss I'm on the shoreline, dipping a toe in the water, but as he rocks his hips against mine, I'm swept out to sea.
My fingers cling to his hips as he pulls back, and I reach down to wrap my hand around him.
"Yes," he groans, rocking into my hand. I place him against my entrance and as he begins to slide inside of me, my hips tilt, making it easier, making him fill me.
His hands move and he reaches out to grab my hands on his backside. He pulls them up and threads his fingers through mine. I gasp into his mouth as he presses our hands into the mattress next to my head.
He's everywhere, all over me, clinging to me.
His thrusts speed up to match my racing heartbeat.
And as we cling to one another, not a measure of space between us as our bodies rock against the other’s, each of us giving and seeking and taking...
I finally know what it feels like to make love to someone.
It's beautiful.
It's powerful.
It's exquisite.
"Lynx," I gasp against his lips.
I call his name, chanting it over and over as the force and speed of his hips increase, pumping against me.
"Fucking hell, Sarah," he responds with a gruff voice. "So fucking perfect."
"Yes." I tighten my fingers around his, which still grip mine, as my orgasm begins to tighten around his length.
Everything explodes in a blinding light, bright white spots behind my closed eyes as I press into him and my orgasm chases me over the precipice.
I cry out his name as I shatter beneath him. He thrusts into me powerfully, grunting my name as he presses himself against me and his own climax pulls him over the edge. I feel him pulsing inside of me, filling me with his warmth, and I relax into his weight on top of me.
And as our breathing slows, as the darkness of the night covers us and surrounds us...
I feel the broken pieces deep inside me begin to click back together.
***
I was in my car, my fabulous BMW 325i my dad had bought me for my sixteenth birthday.
The sun shone brightly through the windows, making me squint in the light as I pulled off the interstate and onto the road that would take me close to home.
From my cupholder, my phone pinged with a text but I tried to remember to ignore it.
My parents hated when I texted and drove. They said it was too dangerous and I tried to listen to them.
Sometimes, the temptation was too much.
Like just right then, when I was already heading home late after losing time with my best friend, Kaley, at the mall earlier.
Keeping my eyes on the road, I reached over to grab my phone and saw a text from my mom.
I quickly glanced at the road and then slid my thumb on the screen, unlocking it.
I started to type in my reply while pausing after every letter to check the road in front of me.
It was two lanes and had a lot of curves. There were no cars headed toward me so I took my eyes off the road for a moment to finish the text and hit send.
As soon as I looked back up, a black SUV barreled directly toward me.
But it was too late to swerve out of the way.
The SUV headed straight for me, the horn blaring, and I saw the driver clearly through the glass window.
Dark, black cropped hair.
Deep brown eyes framed in lashes I had longed to trace.
The truck jerked to the side at the last moment
And right before my car made impact, I saw the terrified flash in Lynx's eyes as my car ran right into his truck, flipping it.
The metal.
The burning rubber.
It assaulted my senses as I began screaming, trapped inside my own car.
Unable to get to him.
Unable to help.
Not surprised at all that I'd ruined him, too.
"Lynx!"
Warmth wraps around my shoulders.
"Sarah. You're okay."
I shake and thrash back and forth in the restraining hold.
"Lynx!"
"Sarah," a deep voice snaps.
I shift under the firm hold on my shoulders and find myself unable to move my legs. They are held still, confined, by a heavy weight I can't budge. I’m still trapped.
"No!" I cry out. My voice sounds shattered to my own ears as the picture in my mind begins to fade. I reach out to cling to it as I'm shoved back and warm, full lips land on mine.
I inhale a breath and freeze when the lips move away.
Lynx's voice pushes into my memory. My dream. My nightmare.
"Sarah. It's just a dream."
I shake my head, but feel myself grow weaker.
"It's okay, honey. It's just a dream."
"No." I shake my head and squeeze my eyes tighter. "Lynx."
"I'm right here."
I'm moved. I'm sitting, and two strong arms are around my back. I feel my head hit something firm and I fall into the hold while the dredges of the dream begin to flee and I find myself in the present.
In Lynx's arms.
His scent. His touch is all around me, surrounding me and holding me to him when I finally peel my eyes open.
They feel scratchy, like they've been scrubbed with sandpaper.
As I croak out his name, my voice feels even worse. "Lynx."
"Shh." His hand slides through my hair and he rubs large, calming circles on my back. "It's a dream. It's okay."
I shake my head, running my forehead back and forth against his chest. "It's not okay."
His embrace constricts me while I push against it.
"Gotta say, honey, never been awake for one of my own nightmares obviously, but yours are fucking miserable."
I hear the forced amusement in his voice and let his words soak in for a moment while my heartbeat continues to thunder against my ribcage.
It wasn't a dream.
How can I tell him?
I shove against him and scramble off the bed until I’m facing him. "Go."
He's naked because when he held me last night in his arms after wearing me out and making love to me, neither of us had the energy to move except for what it took to curl into each other's bodies and close our eyes.
His forehead wrinkles.
"You need to go," I tell him, stepping backward until my back hits the wall. The coolness chills my skin and I look down to discover I'm just as bare as Lynx.
"I'm not leaving you," he says. I watch his fingers curl into the mattress as if he's physically trying to stop himself from coming to grab me. "I can give you space, but I'm not leaving."
"You have to."
My body begins to heat. Sweat trickles down my neck. I grab my sweatshirt from last night, which is still on the floor, and fling it over my body.
"Sarah."
"No." I hold up a hand. I can't look directly at him. I knew this would happen. Nothing lasts forever.
Not for me.
"I understand this feeling," he says, his voice that low, deep rumble that always makes me feel so good.
Today it has the opposite effect.
"You don't." I shake my head and pull my hair into a ponytail. "I need you to leave."
"What was the dream about?"
>
I press myself against the wall again when he stands up and takes a step toward me. When he sees me, he glances down at the floor and snags his boxers, pulling them on before walking toward me.
"Go," I state.
His eyes narrow. "No."
"Lynx. You have to. Before it's too late."
Oh God, why did I just say that?
"Too late for what?"
I shake. My body begins to tremble and my eyes begin to burn.
"For what, Sarah?"
He reaches out and puts his palm on the wall next to me. I'd have to look up to look into his eyes.
I stare at his chest instead.
"Go away."
His other hand rises in front of me and brushes against my cheek.
I hit it away and sidestep him.
"Go."
"No."
"Now!" I squeeze my eyes closed and feel my hands curl into fists.
"Sarah. What will it be too late for?"
I shake. Blood rushes through my veins and I can't stop it.
My breath quickens.
My chest tightens.
"Lynx. Just Go."
"What will happen if I don't?"
God. He's goading me. Following me. Every step I take away from him, he closes the space, leaving only a foot between us.
I look out the window to cloudy, murky skies. The dreariness fits my mood.
"Sarah, talk to me, honey."
"I can't." My voice is dry and I clear my throat.
"You can. Tell me what will happen. What happened in the dream?"
The car. The road. Burning rubber. Screeching metal.
I clasp my hands over my ears to erase the sound that is never far from my mind. My knees collapse and I sink to the floor. "Stop it."
"Honey."
He's close. I sense him hovering above me.
I'm losing my mind. It was inevitable anyway.
"What happened in your dream?"
His voice is slow and quiet. Like trying to soothe a trapped animal.
I feel like one as a shudder racks through my body, and I wrap my arms around my calves, bringing my knees up.