Page 57 of Take Me Home

He holds me for a tender moment, and I love how I fit so perfectly against him. His chin rests on top of my head as his strong hands make their way up and down my back over the top of my pajamas. Lincoln’s fingers find the hem of my top, and he slides them under the fabric and across my bare skin.

I hum against his chest at the warmth of his rough, callused hands against my back, loving the way his hands feel on me.

I pull away and push against his broad chest until he takes several steps back. His calves hit the bed frame, and my hands go to his belt, undoing the buckle, then removing it.

Lincoln helps as if reading my mind and unbuttons his jeans before sliding them down his strong legs. He takes his socks off and throws them on the floor, too.

I slide my hands up his chest, resting them on his shoulders and pushing down until he sits on the bed.

He leans back on his elbows, looking up at me with a smirk. “I should’ve known you’d be bossy, Princess.”

I laugh, then allow my eyes to roam over his body now that he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs, his erection straining against the fabric.

He’s so…solid. So capable. So, weary from caring for everyone around him. Just looking at him, I have the desire to take care of him, to make him feel good, to help him forget his responsibilities and just be a man for a few hours.

Climbing onto his lap, I straddle his legs, leaning down until my mouth meets his. Lincoln’s tongue dips out to taste my bottom lip, then he tugs on it with his teeth.

Releasing my lip, he looks up at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “I want to feel your skin against mine.” His voice is rough.

I reach for the top button on my pajama shirt, but Lincoln gently brushes my hands away.

“May I?” he asks.

Biting my bottom lip, I nod.

“I’ve been thinking about these buttons ever since I saw you in these fucking jammies.” Lincoln’s voice is distant and distracted, as he slowly undoes each small button.

The tension between us grows taut as my top falls open a little more with each passing second. When he reaches the last button, the silky fabric falls down my shoulders before falling to the floor.

Lincoln’s eyes meet mine before they drop to my breasts. He seems to drink them in before leaning forward and kissing a path between them. His hands move around my waist as he languidly licks his way to one hard peak, dragging it into his hot mouth then licking and nipping at it before moving to the other with unhurried movements.

I writhe on his lap, loving the way his mouth feels on me.

“You’re perfect, just like I knew you’d be,” he whispers between licks and kisses. His lips move softly against my neck, then my jaw. Lincoln presses one soft kiss to my lips, then looks into my eyes. “So beautiful.”

Not breaking eye contact, I slide off his lap and stand before him in nothing but my silk pajama pants. I take his hands in mine, guiding them to my hips. Lincoln’s thumbs hook inside the waistband. He looks up at me, and I nod, giving permission.

He leans in and kisses my stomach while sliding the fabric down my legs until I’m left in nothing but white cotton boy-short panties. They’re nothing fancy, but riding a horse in a thong is extremely uncomfortable.

Lincoln’s eyes rove over me like I’m wearing skimpy lingerie, his gaze lingering on the cotton before he grips my hips and turns me around. His hands palm my ass, and he groans.

“This ass has starred in my dreams every damn night,” he says from behind me, placing a kiss on my lower back before removing my panties and kissing each cheek.

Each nerve in my body hums, my core pulsing with every touch, every kiss.

When I turn to face him, he doesn’t take his eyes off me.

I relish his attention, the heady look in his eyes.

“Your turn,” I say.

Lincoln stands and peels his boxer briefs off, and I look my fill. His shoulders are wide, his waist tapered, his legs strong. Every hard line of muscle was earned by hard work, each dip and callus…there’s something so sexy about a man who’s solid in more ways than just his body.

Lincoln is firm in his dependability at his job, with how reliable he is for his family…the figure before me is a real man. A good man.

I step toward him until our bodies are pressed together, until all our skin is touching. Those strong, inked arms slide around me, lifting and then spinning us. Suddenly I’m beneath him on the mattress, and his weight presses down on top of me. I wrap my legs around him, needing more, needing to be closer. We’re in a frenzy now, clashing teeth, tangling tongues, skin to skin.

He stops and pulls back, panting. “Are we going too fast? We can slow down.”