My Hero, Lincoln : Chosen Book 19

by J. D. Light

  I laughed, thinking about him and me with a house full of children… And then I remembered something I'd found out recently when I'd seen a chosen mark.

  One of my classmates from high school had taken a picture of it about a year ago. He was Alpha Vance's assistant and had been doing his best to keep me in the loop about streak matters. Apparently, the old alpha thought the answer to all of our streak's problems was chosen and chosen children.

  I'd never seen the mark before he emailed the picture to me… except that I had. It was the same mark I'd seen on Crawford's back all those years ago. The mark that looked almost like he'd burnt something into his skin.

  I'd immediately told my brother right after I'd seen the email, and after he'd questioned me on just how I knew about a mark on Crawford's back, to which I reminded him that we'd always been running around without shirts on when we were younger––completely untrue in Crawford's case, but Decker didn't remember that––he'd agreed to tell Crawford what the mark was and all the strange and wonderful things that came with it.

  Holy shit! My mate is chosen. We can have babies together. If he was willing, and if he even wanted me in that way.

  "Should we get your stuff out of the car?" he asked, eyes narrowed. Was I acting weird? I was probably acting weird.

  "I'll grab my duffle in a minute," I said, waving my hand in the air. "It has everything I'm going to need for a few days. Everything else can just stay in the trunk until I find my forever home." I gave him my best pound puppy look, making him chuckle. "Right now, I just want to be lazy."

  "I'll grab it." He bent forward, grabbin the remote off the table and tossing to me. "Find something decent to watch."

  I settled on Forensic Files while he ran and grabbed my bag. He took it up to my room and then settled on the couch less than a foot from me. I felt like I was in fucking middle school again, nervous and twitchy, afraid to make a wrong move.

  We sat there, the TV a low hum in the background. The conversation was stilted at first, but before long we were talking like we normally did. And if it wasn't for the fact that I would have an occasional mental freak out at the idea that he was my mate and I didn't even know if it was possible for him to be attracted to me, the conversation was no different than one of our millions of phone calls or thousands of video chats.

  Well, except for the fact that usually when I was hard and achy in my pants, he couldn't see the evidence, so I was doing my damnedest to keep myself under control… and I was failing miserably.

  At some point I shifted, turning my body toward his, my knee pressing into his thigh, and I realized we'd migrated even closer to each other, our faces less than a foot apart as we talked.

  I knew it was probably me, the mate pull dragging me further and further in. I needed to move away before I did something that would freak him out, but as I slung my arm over the back of the couch, leaning forward slightly, I glanced up at his face, catching his eye.

  It would be so easy to climb into his lap right then. Straddle those thick thighs and lean forward to capture his mouth and get my first taste of him, to grind my dick into the slight roundness of his belly while he held me in those delicious, muscular arms.

  I groaned, biting my bottom lip.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, frowning, the skin bunching up around his bridge piercing. "Your body sore from the trip?"

  I laughed. If only he knew where my body was hurting. Though, if he glanced down at any time, he might find out real quick.

  "Nah. I'm good." I wiggled slightly, trying to take the pinch out of my jeans.

  Unfortunately, it was that move that brought a frown to his face. He looked concerned as he looked me over, and I cringed when his pretty blue eyes found my crotch.

  I hadn't looked down to investigate, because I hadn't wanted to draw attention to it, so I had no idea how bad the situation was down there, but if the widening of his eyes was any indication, it was pretty bad.

  He blinked a couple of times before his eyes snapped back to mine. I smiled brightly, hoping like hell he wouldn't ask. I wouldn't lie to him, but I didn't want to scare him either. Especially given the fact that I didn't know if he was gay or not.

  He wasn't homophobic. I mean, I'd been out since I was fifteen and Crawford and my brother had both just kind of shrugged when I told them. Like it either didn't matter, or it was something they'd already known.

  After a brief moment where he watched my face like he was waiting for answers to just spill out of my mouth, he cleared his throat. "What do you want for dinner? It's almost six, so I should probably throw something together pretty quick before I leave."

  "No way. You're letting me stay in your house, the least I can do is feed you."

  "You know how to cook?"

  "Fuck no," I said, making a face like he'd slapped me. "I was going to call for take out."

  He laughed, shaking his head and I stood, already pulling my phone out of my pocket. His breath caught and when I glanced over at him, his gaze was once again on the front of my pants. On reflex, I looked down, groaning quietly when I noticed just how obscene the whole situation was with my fucking lounge pants on.

  I'd wanted to be comfortable for the long drive, so I'd basically worn pajamas… with no underwear. There was absolutely no doubt now that I was sporting an erection and I turned quickly, adjusting myself as I walked the long way around the couch and toward the kitchen.

  "Where do you keep your take out menus?" I asked, hoping like crazy that he didn't freak out completely.

  I needed to keep the whole situation calm. I needed to ease him into the idea of being my mate. Unfortunately, between my body throwing up flags like this was fucking NASCAR and my tiger pushing me to pounce on him… oh, and the fact that I'd completely outed myself as a giant, creepy stalker, I was having serious doubts about my ability to subtle.

  After a pause that wasn't forever, but was longer than I was comfortable with, he cleared his throat. "I don't. Everyone has their menus online now."

  Spinning immediately, I glared around the corner of the kitchen. "Excuse me? Part of the fun of having drawers in the kitchen is having at least fifty percent of them filled with junk, which includes take out menus that you have to pick up off the floor at least a hundred times a day, because you always set them directly on top of everything you need in your damn junk drawers."

  "No! No junk drawers," he growled, glaring at me. "Hard no."

  I glared back, wiggling my nose in irritation before pulling my head back around the jamb.

  "Flash your hard on at the man and he just stutters a couple of times. Threaten the tidiness of his house and he ships you off to your annoying brother," I mumbled under my breath, already searching through my phone for the number to the Chinese place a few miles down the road.

  "What was that?" he yelled from the living room, sounding amused.

  "I said, you like Chinese, right?" I called sweetly back.

  He laughed, calling out his order and I tried not to think how everything about the man was endearing and adorable. I was unsuccessful.

  After I ordered food, I sighed, looking at my phone and knowing I was about to completely regret my decision before I even fully made it.

  Me: SOS!

  Decker: Are you dying? Because if you aren't dying, then I'm not talking to you.

  Me: Don't be a brat! You know we'd be driving each other crazy within the week. We can't even talk on the phone without you bitching at me about something. Do you really think I want to feel like I'm married to your ass?

  Decker: You'd be so lucky.

  Me: Crawford is my mate!!!

  When the phone rang, I nearly dropped the thing and I didn't even have it up to my ear before my brother was screaming through it, making me bobble it again. "What the ever living fuck!"

  "Don't yell at me," I whisper-yelled, hunching my shoulders and walking to the corner of the kitchen furthest away from the living room. "I'm freaking out right now."

  He got quie
ter, but only marginally. "You didn't know until today, just now, that my best friend, who we've known almost all of our lives, is your mate?!"

  I growled, glaring at the phone in my hand. "I haven't seen­­––or smelled––him in five years!"

  "Are you talking about me?" Crawford asked from behind me, making me jump and spin, eyes wide and phone clutched in front of me like a knife.

  "Uh, no?" I said, cringing at the very unconvincing sound of my own voice.

  "Fuck, you're an idiot. You couldn't hear him walking up on you?" Decker said, sounding exasperated at the same time as Crawford's eyebrows rose, the light barely glinting off the black barbells running through the left one.

  "Oh, I'm convinced," he grumbled, looking hurt.

  "Stop fucking yelling at me!" I yelled into the phone while reaching out a hand toward Crawford, gripping the sleeve of his T-shirt.

  "Is there something wrong with the way I smell?" he asked quietly, making my heart constrict, and unreasonably, I blamed my brother.

  "Do you see what you've done now, Decker?" I growled, glaring at the phone in my hand while still holding on to the sleeve of Crawford's T-shirt. "He thinks he stinks, because you're an idiot who can't just be fucking helpful for once!

  Easing out of my grasp, because even when he was hurt, he wouldn't dare hurt me, Crawford moved back giving me a reassuring smile that was anything but. "I'm going to go take a shower."

  I took a step to follow him, willing to throw him over my shoulder if necessary, but my brother's words had me stopping in my tracks. "I'm coming over there."

  "No!" I yelled. The last fucking thing I needed was my nosey, overbearing, idiot of a brother showing up and making things worse. How they could get any worse, I didn't know, but I knew if anyone could do it, it was fucking Decker. "Damn it, Decker. Do not come over here. I'd rather figure it out on my own than have you here fucking it up worse!"

  I hung up the phone and took off up the stairs, coming to the bathroom door just as it was shut, and the lock clicked into place. "Crawford! Please," I yelled through the door. "I swear that wasn't what it sounded like."

  I knew something like smelling bad wouldn't bother most people, but for someone who had lived with a man who constantly smelled like stale beer and never seemed to notice it, along with all Crawford's other neat-freak compulsions and insecurities, I knew it was just the kind of thing that could send the man into a depression.

  "It's fine, Linc," he grumbled through the door, starting the shower. "Next time just tell me. I'm a big, hairy guy. I sweat a lot." Even through the spray of the shower I could hear him mumble under his breath, "I'll just shower every couple of hours. Shifter noses must be sensitive. I only smell soap."

  There was the sound of clothes rustling and I heard a metal button as it met a hard surface and I did my absolute best not to picture him naked.

  "Open the door, Crawford," I whined, letting my head fall against the wood. "Please, I need to explain."

  "I'll talk to you about it when I get out, okay?" But the resigned sadness in his voice was more than me or my tiger could take.

  "I'm coming in," I growled, rattling the knob.

  "The door's locked." I heard the shower door shut and then the sound of water hitting the floor inside the shower stall cut off as he moved under the spray.

  "I'm a shifter," I yelled so he could hear me. "Crawford?" He didn't answer and I bit my lip, wondering if I should just wait until he got out. I let go of the handle, and even took a step back, but my tiger was pissed and the very thought of my mate—of Crawford—being sad or hurt by me for even a minute longer was more than I could take.

  "Fuck it," I growled, gripping the knob again and twisting until the thing broke. I pulled the knob off and stuck my finger in the whole, releasing the latch, so I could push the door open.

  "What the fuck?" he growled, trying to cover himself, but it was no use, really.

  And nothing could have prepared me for a naked and wet Crawford Russell. Absolutely nothing. "Wow," I said stupidly, taking in his tattoo, pierced and thick gorgeousness, licking my lips.

  "You broke my door knob," he said, his voice rising slightly as he motioned to the knob in my hand before yelping and putting his hand over his dick again.

  "I was in a hurry," I said, face still slack and probably looking stupid as hell. "I'll buy you a new one."

  "This really couldn't wait until I was out of the shower?" he asked, eyes widening when I grabbed the shower door and popped it open, still being rude as hell and looking him over.

  "No! I don't­––" I watched water continue to pour over his powerful shoulders and chest, trailing down his slightly rounded stomach. More streamed in from behind as it rode the line I was sure his thick, bubble butt was making, slushing down at an angle from his hips and around to the front of his muscular, hairy thighs. I swallowed hard, wanting to lick every inch of his wet body.

  "What was I saying?" I asked huskily, unable to help but notice how he was trying desperately to cover his dick with both hands, but was having a hard time.

  Pun intended, I noticed.

  Reaching out, quickly––and flashing me the bejeweled head of his gorgeous dick––he grabbed a rag, holding the taupe terrycloth up in front of him like a red cape. I mentally pawed the ground.

  "You were telling me why you were in such a hurry to get into my bathroom that you broke my knob." He looked around the shower, reaching out with one hand while still holding up the rag with the other.

  He popped the lid on a bottle and brought it to his nose, sniffing and making a face before going for another.

  "I don't fucking remember," I growled, putting a toe to my heel and pulling my foot out of my tennis shoes one at a time.

  "Then, do you think you could leave so I could finish my shower?" he asked distractedly, before holding the bottle out to me. "Is this too strong a scent for you guys?

  I jerked the bottle out of his hand and walked directly into the shower, fully clothed. "I wasn't talking bad about you behind your back." I did stop to sniff at the bottle, but wasn't all that impressed. I liked whatever he'd been wearing before.

  His eyes widened again, and he looked down at my socked feet, and then up, up, up. "You were talking about the way I smell."

  I nodded, stepping closer. The mist bouncing off of his big gorgeous body was soaking me through, but I just moved another step closer, biting my lip when the hand holding the material up, pressed into my stomach slightly.

  He gulped and his eyes drifted over the shirt that was sticking to my torso, my dark skin easily showing through the light color.

  "I'm going to need a little more if you want me to believe you," he whispered.

  Even in the steamy shower, his breath was warm against my face. My lips tingled with need. I should pull back, be rational, but I'd done everything absolutely wrong until that moment and for some reason, I couldn't keep myself from continuing to fuck up.

  "Fuck it," I growled, rocking up on my toes and taking his mouth as I slung my arms around his shoulders. I moaned against his soft lips and licked along the seam.

  He groaned and I felt the rag hit my foot at the same time as the wet slap echoed through the shower stall, and then his arms were wrapping around my waist, dragging me closer. His lips parted and his tongue plunged into my mouth, sliding against mine. He tasted amazing, just like I knew he would, and I pressed my dick into his thigh as he ground his against my abs.

  Our movements became almost frantic as we moaned and whined into each other's mouths. I ran my hands all along his neck and shoulders, needing to touch him everywhere, but I didn't have enough hands.

  This was Crawford. I needed to touch him. Every fucking inch. I needed to feel him against me.

  Chapter Three

  I couldn't believe what was happening. The man of my dreams had just busted down my bathroom door and attacked me in the shower.

  That makes it sound bad. And there was absolutely nothing bad about what was hap
pening.

  When he pulled back, I groaned, but let him go, not wanting him to feel trapped. I knew he was stronger than me, but the big guy who was always conscious of not scaring the smaller people in the world, didn't think of it like that.

  I clenched my hands at my sides, my fingers tingling with the need to reach for him again, but I forced myself not to.

  I let my head lean back, trying to think of anything but my throbbing, leaking cock. The plop of wet material confused me enough to look, and before me was a wet, shirtless Lincoln, pushing the band of soaked sleep pants down his body, revealing to me inch after inch of gorgeous brown flesh.

  His long, thick dick slapped against his stomach, and I groaned, suddenly starving for it in my mouth… or even better, in my ass.

  He kicked at his pants and socks, the wet material holding him captive as he gripped his dick, giving it a couple of long, slow strokes and milking translucent drops from the end.

  Stepping forward, he pressed his entire front to mine, rubbing against me like a cat before once again pressing his lips to mine and his tongue inside my mouth.

  His body was warm and slick and his mouth plush and delicious. I'd never in my life experienced anything so erotic as this man against me, his flavor in my mouth.

  Is this fucking real? It couldn't be. The love of my life was actually standing naked in my shower with me, with his body pressed to mine.

  He pulled back again, and I whimpered, closing my eyes. He had to quit doing that. My body was going to explode from the built up frustration.

  My eyes snapped open when a slightly calloused hand wrapped around my dick… but he was gone. The phantom hand stroked and I looked down to find the most gorgeous creature God ever saw fit to make on his knees at my feet, his hand wrapped around my cock and his sable eyes trained on my face.

  He didn't break eye contact as he leaned forward, flicking his tongue over the barbell at my slit, and I gasped. "Lincoln!" I reached for the wall, pressing my palm against it as the other floated down to his shoulder, my fingers digging into the sleek muscle there.