When we get out of the shower after so much more kissing, he dries me off with an oversized towel. He wraps me up in it neatly before lifting me off my feet again.
揥hat are you doing??I ask.
揘othing you won抰 like. Trust me.?
Smiling, I bat my eyes.
揥hy does that make me so nervous??
揇on抰 know. You worry too much, Nevermore.?
We sail back into the bedroom, where he sets me on the edge of the bed and unwraps the towel slowly, one side at a time.
Then he抯 kissing me again, only stopping to drop to his knees. His mouth moves to my belly button and slips down.
揥hat are you doing now??I ask breathlessly.
He answers, but not with words.
When his tongue finds my clit, I understand.
God, do I understand.
His tongue flicks back and forth, sweeps inside me, moves like he抯 writing his name inside me.
Lincoln grabs my thighs and holds them apart, pushing me against his face, bringing me home.
揙h. My. Whoa,?I mouth slowly.
揑抦 coming for your muse, sweetheart,?he whispers, stopping just long enough to look up at me with fire in his eyes. 揌old the fuck on. Lie back. Let me give you colors worth the words.?
He grabs my legs the same way he did earlier and resumes his position after I抦 flat on my back.
Then it抯 just his mouth, my pearl, and a scream lodged in my throat.
His tongue is relentless, gliding down my seam, taming my pussy with wild abandon.
With trembling legs pressed to his face, his beard and his heat and his unforgiving mouth throw me into the hottest climax of my life.
I blink my eyes open and wonder why I抦 sleeping on a cloud.
This bed is a sort of soft I didn抰 know money could buy. I抦 nestled under a fluffy white blanket that might as well be a marshmallow. The furniture around us is marble-topped.
Why am I not in my apartment again?
Oh, right.
The best hours rush back to me. My mouth drops open.
Oh, shit. I抦 that girl.
The girl who sleeps with her boss梐nd relishes it.
I抣l face the fallout later, but right now, I wouldn抰 trade last night for anything.
I need to get dressed and make excuses so I can get home and freak out about how much I抳e blown up my life.
Rolling to the side of the bed, I start groping around on the floor for my clothes. Nothing touches my hand. I pull the comforter across me and sit up to look. The floor is clean.
Huh?
I scoot to the other side of the bed and try again. I find nada.
What the hell? Where are my clothes?
I jump out of bed and quickly search around the entire bed. Everything is just gone.
I spot a plush white bathrobe lying near the foot of the bed, though.
It抯 ginormous, but I tie it around me anyway, unlock the door, and start searching for Lincoln. I抦 going to have to swallow my pride and ask if he抯 seen my clothes, I guess.
As I move downstairs, I think I hear梬histling?
Yep. Definitely whistling.
I follow the sound and find him in the kitchen, which could rival Eliza抯 place with heavenly cinnamon and vanilla perfuming the air.
揗orning, Nevermore.?He holds his arms out.
Umm梬hat? I blink.
Am I still asleep and dreaming? Either way, I walk into his embrace.
He hugs me tightly and kisses my forehead.
揇id you sleep well??
揑 did. But, uh, have you seen my clothes??
揟hey抮e in the dryer. By the time we eat, they should be ready,?he says, his eyes shining happily.
Sweet Jesus. What universe did I wake up in?
揧ou…you washed my clothes??I say slowly.
揧eah. Thought I抎 do you a favor.?He shrugs like it抯 nothing.
My jaw scrapes the ground. But before I can say anything, there抯 a loud ding!
The oven timer.
Lincoln strides over and pulls out a tray of huge, piping hot cinnamon rolls. 揋ive them about five minutes and I抣l get the frosting on.?
He cooks?
Well, I knew that since last night, but…he bakes? He makes me freaking cinnamon rolls?
揧ou made us rolls??I ask, disbelief ringing in my voice.
揑 wasn抰 sure what else you usually ate for breakfast.?Again, he shrugs like he isn抰 demolishing what抯 left of the stuck-up suit I used to think he was.
揥ho are you and what have you done with Lincoln Burns??I shake my head, my hair lashing my shoulders.
揑抦 a thoroughly satisfied man this morning,?he growls, swatting my butt.
I jump. Heat burns my face and I double over laughing before I look up. 揓eez. If I抎 known you just needed to get laid to act like a human being, we could抳e adjusted your attitude a long time ago.?
He stiffens.
揟hat抯 not why棓
I smile. 揘o. Of course not. Sorry. Bad joke.?
揧ou cleared my head, Nevermore.?He nods. 揑 woke up thinking maybe we should reconsider Anna抯 idea.?
揂nna抯 idea??Oh, what? The idea hits me like a Mack truck. 揧ou can抰 mean梩he fake engagement thing??
揧eah. That 'thing,' as you so eloquently put it,?he says with a snort.
I抦 not sure how I抦 still standing.
揂re you crazy??I toss at him.
揇akota, if you抮e interested, I could use a lot more of last night in my life棓
揝ex??I interrupt.
揧ou, but sure, the gravity defying sex is great, too.?
My heart rivets. My face is on fire. My everything short-circuits.
揑 mean, I guess I would like that. I抎 love spending more time together, if only that charade wouldn抰 create a million other problems.?
揥orrywart,?he whispers, stroking my hair. 揥here抯 my spitfire who tells me to go to hell on a daily basis? She disappeared when I kissed her, and I don抰 want that. I like her.?
I wonder if he抯 right.
揝orry. I haven抰 been in this situation too many times棓
揝ituation??His eyes search mine.
揥ith a man條ike that, I mean. And the last time I was, it didn抰 end well. I抦 just afraid if you抮e serious and things get out of hand with this goofy engagement trick…？I trail off, my brain spinning too far to finish.
揧ou still think you抮e unlovable? Listen to me,?he whispers, tracing my cheek with his finger. 揟here抯 nothing fucking wrong with you, Dakota. That little ant who ran out on you just had his head up his ass so far he could spit into his own throat.?
I laugh at the crude statement.
揃ut what does spending more time together have to do with Anna抯 scheme??I ask.
揑t抯 too soon to talk to HR about this since we don抰 know how serious it is棓
揙h. Right!?I say too eagerly.
He抯 right. We don抰。
I抦 still convinced this is just a crazy hookup and my rabbit brain is making a mountain out of it.
揥e抣l need excuses if anyone notices a change in our demeanor. Need to explain why we抮e spending so much time together. Anna抯 fake wedding shit gives us the perfect cover. Plus, I think you agree it抯 a crazy-like-a-fox marketing plan. It could give the wedding line unprecedented reach.?
揟his is really fast,?I whisper.
Not to mention intense.
Me, men, and engagements梖ake or otherwise梔on抰 normally get along.
Don抰 get me wrong.
I抦 as much fun on a date as the next gothy poet chick. I look okay in a wedding dress梐s good as any short, slightly awkward girl with white-blond hair is, anyway.
But it抯 the combination.
The skyrocketing stakes.
The alien feeling of caring again and bracing for disaster. I know how it ends and the potential final chapter of this situation scares me.
My brain says run, Dakota.
Run fast. Run far. Run to safety.