He doesn’t. He’s a man on a mission. I just wish I knew what that mission was.
Like the gentleman he is, Lincoln holds the truck door open for me and waits until I’m buckled before shutting the door and jogging around to his side. He slides in and buckles, and a second later we’re on our way home.
His eyes are trained on the road, as they should be, and his hands are fisted tight around the wheel. I can’t help but wonder again if I did something to upset him.
“Did I do something wrong?”
His grip on the wheel loosens, and he glances over at me. “No. Why would you think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you dragged me out of there like your ass was on fire.”
“I’m sorry.” He reaches across the center console and rests a hand on my upper thigh. “You did nothing wrong. It’s me.”
Was that some weird form of it’s not you it’s me? Because everyone knows it’s really the you person.
“I’m not sure that’s any better.”
“Shit. I suck at this.” Lincoln steps on the gas. “Just bear with me, okay? I promise this will make sense as soon as I can get you home.”
The rest of the drive is made in silence, and when we get to my place, he jumps out and holds my door open. With a hand on my lower back, he leads me to the front door. I unlock it and he follows me in, shutting and locking it behind us.
“I really wanted to wait until we got back to my house to do this, but I can’t.”
Next thing I know, his lips are on mine, and my back is against the wall.
“What do you want?” I pant between kisses.
“You.”
“You already have me.”
“I want all of you.”
Oh God, I want that too.
Lincoln’s teeth rake over my lower lip and then his tongue dips inside, sweeping against mine.
I reach for his shirt, needing to get rid of the layer between us. He lifts his arms enough for me to pull it over his head, and then my hands are roaming his chest. I can feel the fast beat of his heart beneath the palm of my hand, and it gives me a thrill to know he wants this as much as I do.
My nipples are throbbing, begging to be sucked and pinched and tasted. And my panties are soaked, and if he doesn’t get us naked soon, I’m going to combust.
With one hand on my hip, the other shoved into my hair, he pulls me to him. There’s a bite of pain when he fists my hair at the nape of my neck, and I whimper.
“I can’t wait,” he growls, the rugged sound shooting straight to the ache between my thighs.
“Please.”
I don’t know what I’m begging for.
His lips.
His hands.
His cock.
His heart?
But Lincoln doesn’t need anything more than that one word.