by A. M. Myers
“We’ll have time to talk about all this later but I’m just letting you know now that I’m never walking away from you. You are my everything and I have no future if you’re not in it,” he whispers.
Our lips meet in the space between us, no one leading the kiss this time as we fall back onto the bed with him on top of me. He kisses down my jaw to my neck before planting kisses across my chest and I arch off the bed, begging for more. I grab his hand and move it to my breast, earning a grin from him as his fingers squeeze my flesh and I sigh.
“Lincoln,” I pant, my clit pulsing with need and my entire body aching for more. “Panties off.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he chants, moving between my thighs and licking his lips as he slowly peels the lacy material down my legs before tossing it over his head. Leaning in, he kisses the inside of my thigh and I jerk beneath him, mentally screaming at him to move a little higher.
“You need something, baby?” He chuckles and I moan, lifting my hips off the bed.
“Please, Linc. I need it.”
He groans. “Fuck, I love hearing you beg, baby.”
Spreading my legs, he kisses my thigh again before flicking his tongue over my clit softly. I sigh, gripping the sheets underneath me as he keeps a slow steady pressure with his tongue.
“Lincoln,” I moan, slipping my fingers into his hair. He groans and the sound vibrates across my flesh, earning another moan from me. He starts with long slow drags of his tongue before taking a break and switching to short, fast flicks to my clit. Each one sends me climbing to a glorious release before he changes it again and I’m practically back at square one.
I yank his hair in frustration and he chuckles before sucking my clit into his mouth. I cry out, arching off the bed, and he pushes me back down as he slips a finger inside me.
“Fuck, baby. You’re soaked.”
I nod. “Why don’t you do something about it?”
“Yeah?” he asks, standing and shoving his boxer briefs down his legs. His hand wraps around his impressive length and my sex clenches as I watch him stroke the shaft. “This what you want?”
“Yes.” The word comes out as a desperate whisper and I reach for him. “Please.”
Growling, he grabs the condom off the bed and tears it open, his molten gaze locked on me as he slides it on. My heart hammers in my chest as he settles between my thighs and gazes down at me.
“Hey, Tate,” he whispers and I nod.
“Yeah?”
Leaning in, he kisses me so softly, so reverently that I almost cry before pulling away. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I whisper with a nod as the head of his cock presses against my entrance and he slides inside. I gasp, gripping his arms as he slowly works himself inside me and when his hips meet mine, he strokes my face.
“Okay?”
I nod. “It’s just been a while.”
“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers, inching out of my pussy before slowly sinking back in. “I’ll take care of you. Always.”
“Linc.”
At the sound of his name on my lips, his eyes close and he groans, thrusting forward a little harder. My legs wrap around his waist and all bets are off. He grabs my hands and pins them to the bed over my head with one hand while the other grips my hip. He pulls out and sinks into me again and again, hitting the perfect spot each time he drives forward that it doesn’t take long before I’m trembling beneath him.
Pressure builds in my belly and I moan, managing to wiggle one hand free to cling to him. He releases the other and my fingers dig into his back as a powerful orgasm washes through me.
“Oh, fuck,” I cry, throwing my head back and lifting my hips off the bed as my pussy clamps down on him. Dropping his head to my shoulder, he groans, his muscles tensing as his cock jerks inside me. Our panting is the only sound in the room until he pulls back and meets my eyes. Happiness bubbles out of me and I have no other choice but to start giggling and he joins me, shaking his head as he presses his lips to my forehead.
“I hope you weren’t planning on getting any sleep tonight, Sugar,” he murmurs and I’m so happy that I don’t even object to the name.
Chapter Eighteen
Tatum
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I fight back a smile as a blush creeps up my cheeks and my gaze cuts to the large tub in the corner where Lincoln and I had sex a couple times last night. Closing my eyes, I can almost still feel his hands on my skin and I let out a sigh as I open them again. The woman staring back at me looks like me but better like a Tatum 2.0 – brighter eyes, a permanent smile on her face, and so in love with the most incredible man on the planet that it shines through every pore. This is what pure happiness looks like. I’ve never seen it on my own face before but it looks damn good on me and I know I’ll fight to the death to hang onto it.
Biting my lip, I peek around the bathroom door and grin at the sight of Lincoln stretched out across my bed on his stomach. He’s naked as a jaybird and the sheet has fallen enough to show off his pert ass that I just want to grab. My mind replays last night again and I shake my head as I watch him. I still can’t believe this is my life now when only a month ago, everything was falling down around me and I’m never going to take that for granted.
“Why are you just standing there staring a me?” Lincoln asks, his voice thick with sleep as he peeks one eye open.
“I was just thinking how sexy you looked sprawled out in my bed.”
He flashes me a lazy grin as he rolls to his side. “Yeah? Why don’t you come over here and prove it?”
“You’re insatiable.” I laugh, shaking my head. I lost count of how many times we had sex last night and my poor vagina needs a damn break.
He nods. “I’m never going to get enough of you, Tate.”
“Well, I was actually thinking I’d make you some breakfast first and then we can come back to bed.”
His stomach growls and he nods. “Mm, yeah. That sounds good. Is it cool if I jump in the shower first?”
“Of course.” I step out of his way and he swings his legs to the side of the bed before scrubbing his hand down his face. When he hops up, he barrels toward me and I squeal as he picks me up and claims my lips.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” he whispers as he pulls back.
“Back at you, handsome. You feelin’ pancakes or french toast this morning?”
He purses his lips and I giggle. God, he’s just so damn cute. “Pancakes sound good but let me take you out for breakfast.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay in?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows and he laughs, squeezing me tighter.
“Yeah, I want to take my girl out for breakfast and then we’ll come back here and spend the whole day in bed. How does that sound?”
I nod. “Perfect.”
“You want to get in the shower with me?” he asks as he sets me back on my feet and I shake my head as I pat his chest.
“If I did that, we would never get to breakfast and I’m starving.”
Grinning, he reaches for the tie on my robe. “Let me just get a peek then.”
“No.” I slap his hand away and he laughs, grabbing my hand and pulling me back into his body like he can’t stand to be away from me.
“I love you,” he whispers, flicking my nose with his and my heart skips a beat as I close my eyes and nod.
“I love you, too.” My stomach growls and I smack his bare ass. “Now, go get in the shower.”
“Okay, okay,” he concedes, holding his hands up and letting me back away from him. Before he disappears behind the bathroom door, he blows me a kiss and my grin grows. Damn, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much but I don’t think I even care.
As the water starts running, I turn away from the bathroom door and yawn.
“Coffee,” I mutter to myself as I head toward the bedroom door. When I step into the hallway, my foot hits something and I glance down, shaking my head as I scoop his jeans off the floor. Glancing up, I giggle at the trai
l of clothing from the front door to my bedroom. I guess we weren’t all that concerned with tidiness last night.
I tuck the jeans over my arm and walk into the kitchen, depositing them on the island before I turn toward the coffee maker and turn on the radio. Take On Me by A-ha starts playing and I dance around the kitchen as I set the coffee maker up. I should find a few minutes to call Theo back today since I haven’t spoken to him for a few days and I want to talk to him about coming for another visit. I’d really love to introduce him to Lincoln.
A beeping sound cuts through the music and I turn it down as I spin around and inspect the kitchen as I wait for the beep to come again. When it does, I turn to the sound and spot Lincoln’s cell phone laying on the floor in between the bedroom and kitchen. The notification light is going crazy and I roll my eyes as I trudge over to it and scoop it up off the floor. I press the button on the side to wake it up. If nothing else, I’ll just turn it off so it stops annoying me.
Before I can do anything, an image appears on the screen and I freeze, my mouth popping open as I stare at it, my mind screeching to a halt. I don’t know how long I stand here, staring at the image before I suck in a breath and glance up at the camera in the corner of the kitchen. When I turn back to the phone, I take a step to the left and watch in horror as the image moves also. Spinning toward the camera, I watch the image of me spin also and shake my head.
How? How does Lincoln have the live feed from the cameras?
And why?
Why is he watching me?
There has to be a reasonable explanation for this, right? I know him. He wouldn’t do… whatever this is to me. Right?
He knows so much about my past but the one thing I never told him about was the cameras or the safe room so how did he even know they were there?
And how long has he been watching me? Since we started hanging out? Since we first met? Before that even?
The implications crash down on me and I struggle to breathe as I move to the counter and plant my hand on it. After the past three weeks and last night, I don’t want to jump to conclusions but nothing is adding up and I feel more in danger than I did in the store when I was receiving those messages. Could that have been Lincoln, too? Is this all just a big game to him?
My breathing becomes labored and tears sting my eyes as I think over the past few weeks. Is he really behind all of this? It makes perfect sense and absolutely no sense at the same time but with everything I know and all my training, I have to assume these things aren’t a coincidence. My chest aches and I gulp in a breath, willing myself not to cry as tears sting my eyes. This can’t be happening. Not when I thought I had finally found my happiness.
Was this a joke?
Does he even love me?
Glancing down at the phone, I back out of the camera and notice a folder labeled Tate. I shouldn’t click it because it will only bring me heartbreak but I have to know. I click on it, holding my breath as multiple files pop up. The first one I click on has general information on me – name, date of birth, height, weight, hair color – that sort of thing and a quiet sob bubbles out of me.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, no, no.”
The next file I click on is all about Theo and anger floods my system. It’s one thing to come after me but it’s another thing all together to go after my brother - one that I will not stand for. The next file is all about Mom but there isn’t much information there and I sigh as I click the next one and suck in a breath. It’s a photo of Theo and I sprinkling Mom’s ashes on the beach and it tells me everything I need to know. This has been a set-up from the beginning.
Dropping the phone on the counter, I close my eyes and let the pain swallow me up for a moment as my heart shatters in my chest. All the dreams I built up in my head vanish like footprints in the sand and just when I think I’m going to break under the burden of my heartache, I stop. I let the anger replace the pain, shutting down anything that doesn’t serve a purpose in this moment. Lincoln, if that even is his real name, made one grave mistake when going after me and that was choosing me in the first place.
The love I felt for him turns to hate and I finally understand that old saying about there being a thin line between the two as I reach into the cubby next to the sink and pull out the 1911. The water turns off in the bathroom. I plant my feet and aim the gun at the bedroom doorway, gripping tightly to my anger. All this time, all the fear I felt whenever the phone rang, it’s all been him and it pisses me off as much as it worries me. What are his intentions?
Beware the man you think you know.
The saying runs through my head again, like it has so many times since that first call came in, but this time, I understand it perfectly. The seconds tick by in agonizing slowness and my mind races through scenarios. Will he freeze when he sees the gun? Will he charge me? The thought of shooting him, of watching a bullet rip through his body makes my stomach roll and a tear slips down my cheek before I wipe it away, baring my teeth. Why the fuck do I care if I shoot him? He’s done nothing but lie and manipulate me since before we even met. He’s playing games with my heart and he’s going to lose.
“Hey, baby, do you know where…” His words trail off when he glances up and notices the gun in my hand, aimed at his chest. “Tate, what are you doing?”
“Was it fun?” I hiss, my hand shaking. He frowns and takes a few steps toward me. “Don’t move.”
He freezes, holding his hands up. “Was what fun, baby?”
“This.” I motion between the two of us. “Was this fun for you? Did you just hang out with the guys and have a good laugh over what an idiot I am?”
“Sweetheart,” he whispers, stepping forward again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I grab the phone off the counter and back away from him before tossing it in his direction. “I’m sure this will clear it up.”
He catches it effortlessly and glances down at the screen, his eyes going wide and the color draining from his face.
“Baby, no,” he whispers in horror. “You don’t understand. You have to let me explain.”
He takes another step toward me and I cock the gun.
“I don’t have to do anything. Everything I just saw makes things perfectly clear for me.”
“It’s not what you think,” he pleads and it all just sounds like excuses to me. I roll my eyes.
“Don’t give me that tired line. You’ve been caught red-handed, Lincoln. The game’s up and I’m not your pawn anymore.”
He takes a few steps and I arch a brow in warning.
“Please, Tate,” he pleads, his voice cracking as he folds his hands behind his head and his gaze wanders around the room.
“Get your shit and get out.”
He shakes his head. “You have to hear me out. Please, I can explain everything.”
“I’ve made myself perfectly clear,” I say, my chest tightening as my hands tremble and a sob builds in the back of my throat. “If you don’t leave, I will shoot you.”
“Tate, baby, I love you so much. Please just let me explain.”
Hearing him say he loves me is the final nail in his coffin and rage barrels through me as I drop my aim to his thigh and fire. He roars in pain, clutching his leg as he falls to the kitchen floor. Turning away, I grab the phone and dial nine-one-one before pressing the phone to my ear.
“911, what is your emergency?” the operator asks and I turn to face Lincoln.
“Yes, I need the police, please. There’s a man in my home and he’s been stalking me.”
Typing fills the other end of the line. “And where is this man now? Are you safe, ma’am?”
“Yes,” I whisper, tears building in my eyes. “I’m safe. He can’t get to me anymore.”
Chapter Nineteen
Tatum
My eyes burn from a lack of sleep as I drop my coffee mug onto the counter and grab the pot, pouring the rest of its contents into my cup. I scowl. Did I really drink this whole thing already
? Sighing, I lean back against the counter and scrub my hands over my face. After the police carted Lincoln off last night and I’d given my statement, I locked myself in the safe room but even that wasn’t enough to calm me down. Not when every time I close my eyes, I see Lincoln, lying in bed next to me with a sleepy smile on his face.
“No,” I hiss, dashing away a tear that managed to escape before I was able to lock down my emotions. I will not cry for this bastard.
He used me.
He played me.
He lied to me.
None of it was real.
That’s what I just need to keep reminding myself until this crushing ache in my chest goes away. Yawning, I push off the counter and grab my coffee before trudging back to the safe room where Mom’s box of letters is spilled out across the desk. Sitting down, I pick up the one in front of me and start reading.
Days like today, I get so mad at you, S. Mad that you felt you had to run away from me to hide your pain and mad that you felt you couldn’t lean on me when it was too much for you to handle. I know that’s not fair but I was right there with you. I lost something, too, and then, I lost you as well.
Sighing, I toss the letter down and shake my head. How many people did my mother hurt and for what reason? It had to be a damn good one, right? All I’ve been able to find in these letters is cryptic and mysterious – like they were edited to exclude anything that could give me some answers. And I’m eager for answers. Especially after I solved one mystery in my life last night.
“Tate?” Theo’s panicked voice echoes through the house and my mouth pops open as I jump out of the chair and run to the door.
“Theo?”
He pokes his head into the bedroom and I barrel out of the closet, crashing into him and wrapping him up in a hug as relief surges through me.
“What are you doing here?”
He releases me and takes a step back as he inspects me. “Lincoln called me last night and told me to get my ass to Baton Rouge as fast as I could. What’s going on, T? Are you okay?”