Page 70 of Finding Peace
Again.
“You’re staring.”
“I am.”
“Didn’t your mom ever tell you staring is rude?”
“You didn’t think it was rude this afternoon,” he responds, his voice full of… of…smugness.
Slowly, I set the rag down and look him square in the eye. He’s sitting in the chair in the living room, legs spread slightly, forearms braced on his thighs. He doesn’t bother backing down. Just drags his gaze slowly from my face down the length of my body and back up again.
“You wearin’ that to bed?” he finally asks.
I glance down at the oversized T-shirt and thin sleep shorts I’d changed into after dinner. I’d excused myself, desperate to stand underneath the scalding hot shower in order to calm my nerves, even though I’d already showered once this morning. My entire body felt—feels—on edge from an entire day of being undressed by Lincoln’s stare alone. I told him I’d clean up dinner when I came back down, but I should have known better. When I came down, the kitchen was spotless, and the dishes were done. Hence, my farce of wiping down a kitchen that clearly doesn’t need it.
“It’s comfortable,” is all I say in response.
“Didn’t ask if it was comfortable.”
Heat blooms low in my belly as I stalk across the room toward him. Each step slow and measured.
Once I’m standing between his spread legs, hefinallygives me something and wraps his palms along the backs of my bare thighs. I have to force my eyes not to flutter closed as the pads of his thumbs slide just beneath the fabric of my shorts.
“You said if I was good…”
“I did.”
His hands trail beneath the thin cotton to grab my ass—a small smile tugs at his lips when he realizes I’m not wearing any panties. “Have you been good, Abigail?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
His eyes darken just slightly. Not wild or reckless. Butfocused.
He pulls me toward him until I’m forced to sit on his lap, my thighs straddling his as we sit chest to chest. “You’ve been distracted since dinner. You ran from me.”
“Did not.”
His thumb presses slightly against my lower lip as he caresses my jaw. “Sweetheart.”
The word is low and rough.
A warning.
“You think I didn’t notice the way you keep squeezing your thighs together?” he asks. “Or the way this blush on your cheek hasn’t left since I kissed you in the kitchen? Or how desperate you were for me to follow you into the shower so I could take care of that pretty pussy of yours?”
My hands curl into the fabric of his shirt as I feel his cock harden through his jeans. “You told me this afternoon that I was yours.”
His jaw tightens. “I did.”
“And that youlove me.”
A slow, dangerous smile pulls at his mouth. “I do.”
Lincoln’s hand slides from my jaw, down my throat, stopping right at the center of my chest. “So why haven’t you touched me?” I ask breathlessly.
Sliding his hand to the side, he lets the pad of his thumb drag over one of my nipples. “Don’t mistake my loving you for going easy on you.”
The heat between my legs pulses. “Lincoln…”
