Amber licked her lips, her hand drifting across her body with lazy strokes as she drank in every word. She’d expected him to talk dirty to her, to tell her his fantasies, all the ways he wanted to fuck her. Instead, he was reaching into the places in her mind where her most desperate need to express herself existed. The arousal his words evoked was subtle, like a slow burn, but deep and satisfying.
“I want to argue with you, comfort you and make love to you.” A new roughness made his voice harsh, his breathing laboured, and she knew he was touching himself, the same way she was. The knowledge made her body clench hard and she reached down to slide two fingers deep inside her body. A harsh gasp escaped her as her body curled up in pleasure, before falling back to the bed. “I want to move inside your body,” he growled. “Touch your bare skin. Feel you come around me.”
“More,” she cried as she climbed toward bliss. “Give me more.”
“Fuck, Amber.” He fell silent, but she could hear the long, ragged breaths he took. She imagined his hand wrapped tight around the end of his hard cock as he tried to hold off the inevitable.
Her lips curved and she released a breathy moan, urging him to lose control. “Tell me, Lincoln.”
Two more deep breaths, and then he spoke again. “You want to know what I want?” His voice was little more than a rasp now, harsh with need. “I want to lose myself in you. I want you to lose yourself in me.”
Amber came with a hoarse cry, pulsing hard around her own fingers. Vaguely, she heard Lincoln swear as his own breathing sped up once more, until he followed her with a strangled moan.
A few moments later, those final words returned to resound in her ears. Four little words that had ultimately thrown her over the edge of the abyss. Lose yourself in me.
The pain of regret twisted in her gut. She wanted to be with Lincoln. But the one thing he really wanted, the greatest desire that was torn from his lips in the moments before completion, was the one thing she could never give.
Chapter 16
Lincoln did not want to be here.
The restaurant Amber had chosen for dinner was upmarket in every way. Impeccable furniture. Trendy decor. White linen tablecloths that draped all the way to the floor. The flowers in the vases were the best quality fakes money could buy, which was pretty much the way Lincoln thought of these places: expensive fakes.
He’d dined in restaurants like this with his parents. It had rarely been a pleasant experience. They’d usually spent the time talking about their respective jobs and how stressed they were. They’d complain about the incompetence of their colleagues and the stupidity of their bosses. Then they’d drink too much and finish off by congratulating themselves because they could afford to take their lone son out to such impressive places and feed him the best culinary delights their rich little town had to offer.
Every now and then they’d ask Lincoln about school or his extra-curricular activities. He knew what they wanted to hear. For the few minutes he had their attention he would assure them he had good grades, hadn’t been in any trouble and, yes, they had succeeded in raising the perfect child. Before long they would be distracted by some friend who stopped by the table to say hello, or the arrival of another course, and after that he’d shut the hell up. When he’d left home ten years ago he’d vowed never to set foot in one of these places again and he’d kept that vow—until tonight.
Now, here he was, compromising the hell out of his principles for a beautiful woman who couldn’t even say the word ‘compromise’ without flinching. Meanwhile, Amber’s every move exuded her delight at being in this fancy-arse restaurant. It made him want to throw up.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so uncomfortable,” she said now, watching him closely with those gorgeous brown eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Why are we here?” he asked, no longer able to contain the words.
She frowned, her confusion clear. “Um… for dinner?”
“We can eat dinner anywhere?” he insisted. “Why here?”
She seemed truly baffled by his question. “Look around you. This place is amazing. And I’ve eaten here before, the food is exquisite. Why not here?”
This was exactly the sort of place where Amber wanted to be and she’d made damned sure he knew it. On the phone that night, after dinner with her family, he’d been stupid enough to reveal how hard he’d fallen for her. He shouldn’t have done it, but he hadn’t exactly been thinking straight at the time, with his throbbing cock fisted in one hand and her sultry voice pouring into his ear through the phone clenched in the other. She’d seemed so vulnerable and he’d wanted to comfort her. After it was over, she’d pulled away again. So far away they’d hardly seen each other in the last two weeks. When she’d called and invited him out to dinner, the implication had been clear: If he wanted to see her, he had to be willing to go where she wanted to go. Which in all honesty was fair enough. If she wanted to eat at fancy restaurants why shouldn’t she? They could both afford it. But, damn it, if he didn’t get out of this place soon he was going to freaking implode.
“Please, talk to me, Linc.” She reached out to place her hand on his arm across the table. “I’m your friend and I care about you.”
She never had quit using that word. Despite all the time they’d spent together, in bed and out. “I’ve fucked you in every room of your home. I’ve met your parents and cooked for you and spent night after night in your bed.” The words tore out of him, from a wellspring of anger he preferred to pretend didn’t exist. “We’re more than friends. Don’t fucking pretend we’re not.”
Her eyebrows raised and she pulled her hand away, but he caught it before she got too far. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
“Tell me what’s going on with you.” It was no longer a polite request.
“Places like this get on my nerves,” he admitted. “I guess I spent too much time in them when I was younger.”
“Really?” She seemed surprised by the statement. “Did you work in restaurants or something?”
“No.” He supposed this was as good a time as any to tell her the truth. His past wasn’t some big secret or anything. “The basic life I lead is one I chose for myself. My background was more big houses and fancy cars than spartan apartments. My parents were wealthy, they enjoyed eating out at restaurants like this. Only for them it was more about being seen and indulging in their delight with expensive food and wine. The actual taste of the meal was secondary. Once I was old enough to sit quietly through a three-course meal they started bringing me with them. After all, I was the perfect straight-A, football-playing son every parent dreams of. They wanted to show off their best trophy.”
Amber frowned. “Tell me more about your parents.”
“What’s to tell?” Lincoln shrugged. “You already know they’re both lawyers. That’s where their passion lies. They work pretty much all the time—always have.”
“What about you?”
He sat back in his chair, took a sip of water as his gaze skittered about the crowded room. “I was an accident. They didn’t actually want kids at all.”
“I’m sure that’s not true—” Amber started to say, but he cut her off.
“No, it is true. My mum told me herself one day when she was less than pleased with me for tracking mud through the house. She said when she found out she was pregnant she kind of figured she didn’t have much choice. So she had me and then she went back to work.”
Amber reached out for the hand that still clutched the water glass. “But who took care of you?”
“Day care when I was a baby. Then when I went to school there was always after school care. On the holidays I went to holiday care. If you find enough care you can get through a whole childhood hardly ever seeing your kid at all.”
“That sounds awful.”
Lincoln shrugged again. “Other kids have it worse,” he said. “I had every material possession I could ever want. I went to the best schools. I had every opportunity to succe
ed. I wasn’t beaten or starved. I was just, kind of, ignored.”
“Except when they could show you off?”
He gave a sharp nod. “Pretty much.”
Amber sat in silence with his childhood for a moment before asking, “How often do you see them now?”
“The last time was before they left for Europe so that would be,” he thought about it for a moment, “about three years ago. I get an email with some pictures occasionally. I call them once a month or so, make sure they’re still alive. That’s about it.”
“Wow. I don’t think I could have handled that the way you did. You didn’t do the whole rebellion thing, trying to get their attention?”
Reaching for his wine glass, he took a swig. “It didn’t really occur to me. I was lucky, I found my love of gardening when I was about eight. We had a gardener who took care of the yard and he helped me build my first garden. He taught me about the different types of plants and how to grow them best. He took an interest in me. It helped.”
“And that’s why you don’t like having a lot of possessions around you?”
“All that stuff, it just doesn’t mean anything to me.” Knowing she needed more, he leaned forward, trying to find a way to explain. “My parents worked ridiculous hours, constantly, to afford a lifestyle that never satisfied them and they were never home to appreciate anyway. I think they were just addicted to the stress of it. If there was one thing I knew when I started to work and earn money, I knew I didn’t want to turn out like them.”
“So instead of buying designer clothes you started throwing yourself out of aeroplanes and rafting down rapids?” she asked.
“Something like that, yeah,” Lincoln said with a grin. “I guess I wanted to feel like I was connecting with something outside myself, something real.”
His parents had never had the time or the desire to try and forge a connection with a kid they saw as an inconvenience. He liked to blame their busy lifestyle and their jobs, but the plain truth was he’d spent half his life trying to force a love that simply wasn’t there. As an adult he had yet to repeat that particular mistake. He opened himself to friends and lovers, and he expected them to do the same, but it was still that basic connection he chased. He never looked for love in any of those relationships. He wouldn’t look for it in Amber either—especially not Amber. It would hurt too damned much when he came up empty-handed.
“How did Scott end up living with you through all of this?” Amber’s question broke him out of his thoughts. “Your parents don’t sound like the kind of people who would take on an extra teenager.”
“They didn’t,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think they noticed he was living with us for over a month.” He couldn’t help but grin at the baffled expression on her face. “Scott and I were in the same grade at school but we barely knew each other. One night I came across him in a park a few minutes from my house. His face was messed up and he had a big rubbish bag full of his stuff. It was pretty obvious he’d been kicked out of home. I couldn’t leave him there, so I offered him a room at my place. That’s how we became friends.”
“Did you know he was bisexual?”
“He told me that night, in case I wanted to rescind the offer I guess,” he said with a nod. “I told him not to hit on me, and he didn’t. That was the end of that. By the time my parents noticed he was sleeping in the spare room there were only a couple of months left until we graduated high school. I insisted he stay, they didn’t bother arguing about it.”
Admiration shone in her eyes when she smiled at him. “You’re a good man, Lincoln Zane.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. God knows we had the space and I was happy to have some company. To be honest, I think he did me the favour.”
There was a long moment of silence before she asked, “Can I tell you something about why I enjoy these places?”
Lincoln nodded, glad for a change of topic. Talking about his parents made him uncomfortable at the best of times, in this environment it was closer to torture. “Go ahead.”
“Well, the first thing I noticed when I walked into this restaurant was the decor. I didn’t calculate the cost, I just noticed and appreciated. Like that painting on the wall.”
She pointed to a spot over his shoulder and he turned in his seat. The painting was a simple beach scene, nothing special. “I think it’s beautiful and it makes me feel something,” Amber continued. “It reminds me of long summers at the beach and the feel of salt water against my skin.” She paused for a moment before asking, “Do you like it?”
He looked at the painting—really looked. The ocean splashed across the canvas in a cascade of blues and the yellow sand looked gritty and textured. It was actually quite lifelike. He hadn’t taken much notice of it earlier as he’d surveyed the room in distaste. Now he examined it more closely, he saw what she saw. He couldn’t say whether he liked it, art wasn’t his thing, but he could appreciate the work that had gone into it.
“I also like the light shades over the bar.” His gaze was drawn back to Amber as she went on. “They are elaborate, yes, but lovely. They draw the eye upward. And the choice of wood for the bar is surprising in a place like this, but it works well.”
Lincoln listened as she dissected the room, pointing out the features she loved, as well as a few she disliked. Apparently the open view into the kitchen was something she didn’t prefer. She didn’t like to see the food being prepared before she ate it because it reminded her too much of having to cook for herself every night. While she enjoyed cooking special meals for her family, and for friends, everyday cooking was more of a chore. That made him smile, given she was a great cook.
By the time the food arrived at the table, she was in an ecstasy of sight and sound he was only beginning to comprehend.
She paused to admire the food, leaned in to inhale the aromas. She’d insisted on choosing the five-course degustation menu, telling him she would make him appreciate the skill and effort that had gone into the meal if it killed her. She deconstructed the plating of the food as if she was a born food critic before digging in to fully taste each morsel.
Halfway through the meal he realised he’d relaxed into the evening completely. He and Amber had shared the food, wine and conversation the same way here as they had in the small Vietnamese takeaway on the other side of town. Surrounded by the opulence and the wealth of this place, she was still his Amber. She still saw the beauty in everything and appreciated the world in all its forms. Her life wasn’t anywhere near as simple as his, but he was coming to understand it was just as thoughtful and rich in meaning, if not more so. In the world around her, she saw a whole tapestry he had never recognised as a kid, and had rejected outright as an adult, without ever taking the time to see it.
Chapter 17
Amber was kind of pissed off with herself. Here she’d spent so much time protecting herself from Lincoln, when tonight she’d discovered she knew almost nothing about him other than his name. All this time he’d avoided talking about his parents and his childhood and she hadn’t given it much thought. She hadn’t cared enough to wonder why he didn’t want to share that part of his life. Her heart hurt to think of Lincoln as a boy with no-one there to hold him tight, to read him stories at bedtime and tell him he was loved. Her own family had its problems and her home life hadn’t always been sunshine and roses, but she’d been loved and cared for. She’d never been lonely, not the way Lincoln had. Now she knew more about him, she kind of felt like a selfish bitch.
“Let’s go to your place tonight.” The words were out of her mouth before she realised she was going to say them.
“Are you sure?” He looked at her askance and she could have happily kicked herself. Never once had she wondered why he seemed to enjoy having her in his home so much. She’d been so caught up in her own bullshit childhood trauma she’d never recognised his desire to share parts of himself with her. She’d sure as hell never recognised his need for her to see those parts he revealed.
“Sounds good to me.” The smile he gave her was so replete with male satisfaction she couldn’t help but return it. Though, in her mind, she was adding his parents to the list of people she’d like to kick the crap out of. How could a mother possibly think it was all right to tell her child he was unwanted—an accident she wished she’d never made? Even if it was true, what kind of person said that to their child?
As he’d told her more about his past, everything had become clear to her, the revelations piling up so fast it had made her dizzy. She knew now why Lincoln was so intent on dispensing with the usual surface level crap most people were content to talk about, in favour of depth and connection. She understood why he did crazy, and sometimes dangerous, activities without paying heed to the potential consequences. I’m not exactly essential to the world. The words he’d used so flippantly on their first morning together took on new meaning now. Lincoln honestly believed he wasn’t needed—by anyone. He wasn’t bitter about it. He didn’t resent it. He just accepted the ludicrous concept as fact.
She was overcome by the sudden urge to scream at him in frustration. You’re essential to me, you idiot!
“Amber.” The sound of her name pulled her from her thoughts and she glanced around to see they were parked in his driveway. He’d turned the engine off and was staring at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”
She smiled at him, reached out a hand to stroke his cheek. “Nothing at all. Come on, let’s go inside.”
They entered the apartment and she took off her coat, folding it neatly over the back a dining chair. He came up behind her and took her shoulders in his hands, giving a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for tonight,” he said as he leaned over to place a kiss on the nape of her neck.
Lost in Amber: Steamy Contemporary Romance (Finding Forever Book 2) Page 10