His eyes flare. “Holy shit.”
I roll my eyes and smirk. I’m sure it looks maniacal, considering the mess he’s made. “Seems like you got yourself worked up about nothing.”
He rubs at his mouth with the back of his hand, and it comes away streaked with pinkish red. He releases my chin and pats his pockets, searching for a tissue. “Why didn’t you warn me?” he grumbles.
“Because I didn’t expect you to attack me with your mouth.”
“Lie. Why would you wear red lipstick if you weren’t trying to wind me up?” He abandons the mission to find a tissue and drops his mouth to mine again. I figure I can indulge him for a few more seconds before I push on his chest.
Which is the exact moment the door to his office opens. The knob hits my ass, and I stumble into Lincoln.
“Hey, are you—” Hope stops in the middle of the doorway, her expression shifting from confusion to annoyance. She plants a fist on her hip. “Seriously? You two live together! Can you not keep your mouths to yourselves for two hours? You look like a pair of demented clowns.”
“I thought it was the lipstick that didn’t come off.” Lincoln goes back to searching for a tissue.
“He just attacked me.” I manage to say it without laughing, which is pretty much a miracle.
Hope rolls her eyes. “Please. You could teach self-defense classes. That’s the worst excuse ever. We have a board meeting in ten minutes, and I’m a little freaked out over here because you’re leaving me in charge for two damn weeks. It’d be great if there was less pre-meeting making out and more sibling support happening here.” She makes a face. “Wait. That sounds incredibly wrong. Can you clean up your mess of a face and talk me off the ledge, please?”
Lincoln rounds his desk and finds a couple of wet wipes. He tosses one to me and tears the other one open. “I don’t understand what you’re so worried about. G-mom is going to be here, and you’ve got a handle on things.” He wipes his mouth and checks out the pink-streaked cloth. He looks to me. “Am I good yet?”
“Give it a couple more swipes and you should fine. What about me?”
“Same.” He gives his sister his attention again. “Honestly, Hope, you’re going to be fine. We’re only a phone call or an email away if you need us. You have the emergency numbers in case our reception is bad, and most importantly, Armstrong actually listens to you and is semi-productive when you’re around, so unless you parade a bunch of bikini-clad college girls through the office, you’re in good shape.”
Hope purses her lips and plants her fists back on her hips. I really like her, a lot. She and Lincoln are so much alike, it’s uncanny, from their mannerisms, to their personalities, to their odd little quirks. “You know how unhelpful it is to make comments like that, especially when Armstrong’s around to hear you. It feeds the behavior.”
Lincoln taps his lips with his fingers. “Sorry. I’m trying. Old habits die hard.”
“I know they do, but he’s been great the past few weeks, so if you can make it through this meeting without goading him, I think the next two weeks will be that much smoother for me.”
“Noted. I will not goad our brother during the meeting. But understand that I’m only doing this for you, because you asked.”
“I’ll accept that. For now. However, when you’re back from your trip to Honduras, I’ve set up a dinner for the three of us, so we can spend some quality time together and commemorate Dad and the fact that we’re all working together.” She turns to me and smiles apologetically. “I hope you’re okay with that.”
I grin widely. “I’m perfectly okay with that, and I think it’s a great idea.”
Lincoln shoots me a glare, which he quickly schools when Hope beams at him. “Fantastic! It’ll be a great bonding experience for the three of us.”
I’m not sure exactly what Hope is looking to accomplish, but I think it’s commendable that she’s trying so hard with both of them.
At first, Armstrong was his usual asshole self when Hope came on board, but she took him aside and had some kind of closed-door discussion, and after that things changed. He’s still a jerk a lot of the time, but with Hope, he’s different. It’s almost like an empathy switch has been flipped. It shorts out frequently, but it’s clear he’s trying to be less like his normal, awful self most of the time. At least with her. And that’s progress no one else has made.
The meeting goes smoothly, with both Lincoln and Armstrong on their best behavior. Penelope and Hope have a way of forcing that out of them. It’s mostly an overview of what’s happening while Lincoln and I are in Honduras to initiate a new sustainable community outreach project.
In the months since Hope has joined the team, Moorehead has branched out and shifted gears. The focus has moved to real-world issues and stories that make a difference. The boost in ratings and profits are a testament to Lincoln’s vision and dedication, but more than that, it’s a legacy he can be proud of.
It’s enthralling to watch Hope handle her brothers and their very different take on things. “While you’re out there, can you look into what they need in terms of medical? I’d like a feature on that in the coming months. I think it fits well with the hospital fundraiser this fall.”
“I wonder if we should look at the more obscure charities rather than just going with the most common,” I suggest.
Hope points her pen at me. “I was thinking the exact same thing. Armstrong could organize a golf tournament before the end of the summer as a precursor. If that’s something you would be interested in working on with me.” Hope flashes a wide smile at her brother.
Armstrong blinks a few times and runs his hand over his tie. “We would work on it together?”
“If you’d like, sure. I mean, I’m sure you can handle it on your own, but it would be good experience for me, don’t you think?”
His eyes flare with something like surprise, and a smile that doesn’t look at all like a leer appears on his face. “Yes. Of course. It would definitely be good experience for you. I could work with you on it.”
“Great. Well, that’s settled, then.” She looks around the table, and I, much like everyone else, try not to appear completely shocked by how easy that was or Armstrong’s complete lack of bitching.
“I think we have some solid new initiatives to keep us busy while you two are in Honduras. Speaking of.” She taps her phone until the screen flashes and gives Lincoln a syrupy smile. “You two have a plane to catch. Try not to hump each other in the bathroom.”
Lincoln smirks. “Plane bathrooms are disgusting. That’s what the ride to the airport is for.”
“Linc!” I elbow him in the side. Over the months, there have been a number of occasions when the back seat of the car has functioned as a makeshift bed, especially when there’s traffic. But Penelope doesn’t need to know that.
He gives me a blank look. “What?”
“That’s not funny.” I kick him in the ankle and avert my gaze across the table, but he doesn’t take the hint.
His lascivious grin grows wider. “Who says I’m joking?”
Penelope clears her throat. “I hope you’re not using the company vehicles for purposes other than transportation.”
Lincoln finally realizes he’s been talking about screwing me in a car in front of his damn grandmother. “Absolutely not, G-mom. Totally talking smack.”
“And embarrassing Wren. You’re lucky she puts up with you.”
“This is very true. I’m grateful that she tolerates my BS on a daily basis and hasn’t threatened to laser my face in at least a week.”
G-mom winks at me and pushes away from the conference table. “I have an appointment with my personal trainer, so I’m going to say my goodbyes now.”
G-mom hugs me first and then Lincoln, whispering something that makes the tips of his ears turn red.
Once we’re in the car on the way to the airport, I ask him what she said. He hits the button for the divider, cutting off our view of the driver.
“She told me I’m not the first person to christen the back of the company cars.”
“Oh my God.” My face heats with fresh embarrassment.
“She also said there was a reason the seats were leather.”
I bark out a laugh that turns into a squeal when Lincoln slams his thumb down on the release and does the same with his own seat belt.
“We have a six-hour flight ahead of us and likely a few days without running water or a shower, so I’m taking full advantage of the leather seats.”
EPILOGUE
THIS BEAUTIFUL BEGINNING
WREN
Eight months later
I’m so hot. So, so hot and sweaty and very much on the verge of an orgasm. I grip Lincoln’s hair with one hand and brace the other on the wall behind me. The one good thing about sleeping on a mattress on the floor is that nothing squeaks, except me when Lincoln uses his teeth.
He pauses on his quest to make me come to shush me.
“Don’t bite me if you don’t want me to make noise,” I whisper and tug his hair.
So he bites me again, of course.
One of the hands currently gripping my ass relocates, and he presses his palm over my mouth to stifle my exuberance as he resumes his tongue torture. I bite his palm as I come—it’s only fair considering all the biting he’s been doing.
I’m barely cresting the orgasm when Lincoln stretches out over me, fits himself between my legs and pushes inside with a low groan.
“Shh,” I half moan and pinch his ass.
He retaliates by biting my neck.
It’s approaching six in the morning, the sun is barely cresting the horizon, but a dog barks somewhere close by, signaling the start of the day.
The sound of people milling around outside filters through the curtained, pane-less windows as Lincoln moves over me, pumping slow and steady, our panted breaths and occasional whispered admonishments and taunts the only sounds we make.
I want him to go faster, harder, but it’s too quiet still, and sound carries here. Unless we want the entire crew and the lovely, sweet local volunteers to know exactly how much sex we have, we have to keep it quiet. And we have a lot of sex.
Thank God the fresh water well was the first thing we dug when arrived several weeks ago.
Somewhere close by a low buzz and ding starts up, it’s a foreign sound here since reception is infrequent and spotty at best. Also, I’m orgasm high and looking for another hit, so I’m inclined to ignore it. Except Lincoln isn’t as single-minded.
He pushes up on his forearms, brow furrowing. “What is that?”
“Dunno.” I shift my hips to bring his attention back to more important things, like giving me another orgasm.
The buzz-ding happens again, and Lincoln’s eyes flare. “Is that my phone?” He leans over to the nightstand and snatches it up. “Shit. It’s Hope. I have to answer this.”
He flips us over so I’m on top. I make a move to get off him, a little annoyed at the interruption, even though I understand the need to answer the call.
Lincoln grabs my hip. “Stay where you are.”
“You can’t answer a call from your sister while you’re still inside me. That’s wrong.”
“It’s not like she’s going to know. Just hang on.”
He answers the call on what I assume is speakerphone, maintaining his hold on my hip to keep me in place. “Hey, sis, everything okay?”
“Hey! I wasn’t sure if I’d get a hold of you or not. Sorry I’m calling so early on you, but I wanted to run something by you.”
Usually we can only get reception when we’re in the orphanage, and even there, it’s not always reliable. Linc has daily chats with Hope, since she’s back in NYC, keeping things running smoothly at Moorehead. Aside from Armstrong and his occasional douchebaggery, that is.
Hope has been extremely patient with him, and they seem to be developing some kind of oddly workable sibling relationship. He’s still a pain in the ass, but he’s less of one with her around.
“Sure, no problem, what’s up?” Lincoln’s voice is gravelly.
“Are you sick? You look flushed. Wait, are you in bed? Oh my God! Why are you so sweaty?”
“Is that a FaceTime call?” I whisper.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s hot here,” Lincoln replies, half to me, half to Hope.
“Is that Wren? Where is she? Did you answer a call in the middle of sex? You know you can do that without the video component, you asshole!”
“I’m not in the middle of anything.”
“You’re such a liar! How many times have I knocked on your office door after you two have had one of your private meetings?” I can hear the italics in her voice at the last part. “I know your post-sex face, which is really disturbing, Linc. This is too much for a sister to handle. I’m hanging up.”
“I thought you had a question?”
“It can wait. Finish servicing your fiancée and call me back. In the meantime, I’m going to call my therapist and bill you for the appointment.”
“Sorry, Hope!” I call out.
“You could’ve tried to stop him!” She sounds more amused than angry. “I’m hanging up now!”
I slap Lincoln on the chest as he tosses the phone on the nightstand. “I can’t believe you did that!”
“She’s the one who FaceTimed me.” He curves his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me down until our chests meet. Then he rolls us over, so he’s back on top of me in a smooth, coordinated surge that makes every single one of his cut muscles flex.
My fiancé is hot as hell.
“Now, where were we?”
I clasp my hands behind his neck. “Trying to have some quiet sex, pretty sure your sister’s shrieking has alerted everyone within a mile radius.”
“Guess you don’t need to be quiet anymore, do you?” He rolls his hips, hitting that spot inside that makes fireworks pop below the waist.
Lincoln’s mouth covers mine, and his tongue sweeps inside in time to swallow up my soft moan. I wrap my arms and legs tightly around him, skin still slippery with sweat—his and mine. It doesn’t take long to bring me back to the edge. My body shakes with the impending orgasm, and I fight against the urge to dig my nails into his back when the first waves hit.
Lincoln loves nothing more than wandering around shirtless, showing off the crescent-shaped marks that last for hours afterwards.
He only disengages from the kiss when I stop shaking and then pushes up on his elbows, framing my face with his hands.
“I love you,” he whispers against my lips.
“I love you.” I hold onto his wrists as he pumps into me, watching his brows pull down as he gets closer to release.
“I’m going to come,” he warns and pushes up, but I keep my legs wrapped tightly around his waist.
“In me.”
“Wren.” It’s another warning. We ran out of condoms a week ago, right after the supply run, and another isn’t scheduled until next week. The condoms were less about contraception and meant more as a way to circumvent the potential mess. However, my pill prescription also lapsed last week, and I won’t be able to get anymore until the next town run, or we get back to New York. We’re only here for a few more weeks, then it’s home for two months before we start another project.
On account of the aforementioned issues, Lincoln comes in one of two places—a tissue or my mouth. My mouth is obviously his preferred location.
He pushes up on his forearms, so he can look at me. His gaze is questioning, and under that inquisitive expression is tentative excitement. “You realize what you’re asking for?”
I tip my chin to the side, where my tank lies discarded beside my head. “We can put that under me so the sheets aren’t crunchy tonight.”
He slows his movements. “Don’t play with me right now, Wren. I’m right on the edge.”
“I’m not playing.” I stroke his cheek tenderly, pressing my fingertip to the divot in his chin. “I want you
to stay in me.”
Lincoln rolls his hips. “I thought you said we’d have the baby talk after this project wrapped up.”
I lift a shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt to start trying now, does it?”
“I kind of planned to marry you before I knocked you up.” Another grind of his hips, another low moan from me.
“We don’t have to do it in any specific order, do we?”
“I guess not.”
“Great, now stop talking and finish making love to me.”
He drops his head, mouth covering mine, and we move with each other, a slow wave rolling in, building before it crashes down, pulling us both into the sweet, blissful undertow.
Afterward, he rolls us to the side and hitches my leg over his hip. “I can’t believe you told me you want me to knock you up seconds before I was about to come. You can’t say something like that; my brain isn’t working properly when I’m in you like this.”
“Better that you don’t have a chance to overthink, don’t you agree?”
He gives me a look. “If you get pregnant before the next project, we’ll postpone it.”
“Or we can send Hope. She’s been dying to go.” I run my fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it off his forehead. “You’re going to be the most amazing father.”
“And you’re going to be a kickass, sexy momma.” He nuzzles my neck and then pulls back, expression suddenly serious. “You know, Wren, until you came along, I didn’t think love like this was possible.”
I smile up at him. “You just needed someone who could handle how amazing you are.”
“You really are a miracle.” He kisses me softly. “And I’m going to spend every day of our life together making sure you know that’s the unequivocal truth.”
ALSO BY HELENA HUNTING
Shacking Up
I Flipping Love You
Hooking Up
Making Up
ANTHOLOGY
Eye Candy
PRAISE FOR HELENA HUNTING’S NOVELS
Handle with Care Page 26