Her hands touched where his mouth laved in their shared fantasy. He deepened the intimate kiss, reveling in her rich, hot flavor. Peyton’s nails raked his skin and, in no time, her husky cries filled the room and the line linking them together.
“Come for me,” Lincoln instructed.
“Yes.” Peyton increased her rhythm until she was shuddering and writhing against the bed. Suddenly everything began to tingle while air escaped her lungs in short puffs.
Lincoln reveled in the sound that was taking place over the phone. So much so, his hand lowered to stroke his throbbing flesh. “I can’t wait any longer. I need to be inside you.”
In the fantasy, Lincoln pushed himself up onto his knees and crawled up the length of her body. She reached and pulled him close, locking her legs around his hips. He found her mouth and shared her taste. An erotic kiss that only fed his pleasure.
Slowly, he eased inside her silken walls and nearly cried out at how her soft, warm passage closed tight around him. A perfect fit—a perfect match.
Gently, he rocked inside her, feeling that he’d at last found heaven. Her hips matched his tempo and both were in for an exquisite ride. His name fell effortlessly from her lips and soon became a chanted mantra she could not stop repeating.
Greedy for more, she increased their pacing until their skin was dewed with sweat. The contest became who could outlast the other, but Peyton could already feel herself weakening. There was no denying that something was beginning to blossom inside her.
Lincoln’s heavy breathing transformed into guttural groans while her name, as well as a few biblical ones, burst from him.
Regardless, Peyton was the first to cry out at her body’s explosion. But Lincoln wasn’t too far behind and their voices blended in a glorious harmony.
For a while afterward, the couple laughed at themselves and simultaneously tried to catch their breath.
“That was intense,” she said, and then emitted a small yawn.
“I know I’m good when I can put you to sleep.” He chuckled, and surprised himself when he, too, yawned.
“Ditto.” She laughed. “Of course, you know that just qualified for round one in my book. If you were really here, that would have just been an appetizer.”
“What is this, sexual trash talk?”
“Hey, I’m just warning you,” she said. “I’m a woman who goes after what she wants.”
“All right. Don’t start anything you can’t back up. When I get there I don’t want to hear ‘I’m too tired’ or ‘I have a headache.’”
“Uh-huh. And I don’t want to hear ‘Oh, my ankle is killing me’ or ‘my painkillers made me sleepy,’” she equally challenged.
“Okay, that’s low,” he chuckled. “You’re making fun of an injured man.”
“There’s no disabled list in this ball game,” she warned.
“You have yourself a deal.” He climbed out of bed and headed toward the shower. It was time for them to take that next step, he told himself. Mainly because there was no doubt that he was emotionally invested in Peyton Garner. In the past month, he had thought of little else. Their weekend excursions were nice, but way too short.
The most important thing was, he understood her. Hot damn. For the first time in his life, he understood what motivated a woman, what made her happy and what she expected of him. And honesty was one of those things.
“Peyton, when I get out there…we have to talk.”
There was a slight pause over the line.
“Is something wrong?” she inquired in a voice filled with suspicion.
“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just that what I have to tell you, I have to do it in person.”
Silence.
“P.J.?”
“Yeah, I guess, but I have to admit you have me curious.”
“I’m curious to see those outfits. So we both have something to look forward to.”
She laughed. “All right. I’ll let it go. Your flight lands at two tomorrow, right?”
“You got it. Flight 801.”
“Then I’ll meet you at baggage claim.”
“It’s a date. Love you, bye.” It wasn’t until the line buzzed with silence that Lincoln realized what he’d said, but before he could try to save face, her soft reply filtered over the line.
“I love you, too.”
Chapter 19
Lincoln woke up on time, had his bags packed and ready, but the snag in his schedule came when Tyrone was forty minutes late in picking him up.
“Sorry, man. Traffic is crazy.” Tyrone grabbed a few of his bags and headed out. “Radio said something about a tractor trailer being turned over on I-285. We’re going to have to take an alternate route.”
“We’re not going to miss my flight, are we?”
“Not with Superman at the helm,” he assured him. “I’ll get you there with time to spare.” Tyrone opened the back of his Explorer and crammed in the luggage.
Uncomforted, Lincoln glanced at his watch. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
* * *
Peyton woke up early. Her body was positively humming from her heady experience with Lincoln last night. If he was that good during phone sex, what would the real thing be like?
Stretching out of bed with a glowing smile, she headed toward the bathroom for her morning shower. Even then she was unable to get him out of her mind.
Am I in love?
As she stood still beneath the pounding shower, she considered the notion. I can’t be.
Granted, what she felt for Lincoln was deeper than anything she had experienced before, but she was still frightened by the idea of giving up complete control.
No. This was nothing more than having a good time.
New York was great, Savannah was wonderful and Las Vegas was the most romantic trip she’d ever taken. The most amazing thing was that she’d been to all those places before. However, being there with Lincoln was like experiencing everything for the first time.
She stepped out of the shower more confused than ever. She wanted to make love to Lincoln, but she wasn’t ready to fall in love.
However, the words she’d spoken last night haunted her. “I love you,” she quoted herself. Why in the hell did she say that?
Peyton turned off the water in time to hear the doorbell. Rushing out of the shower, she grabbed her satin robe and cringed at how much it stuck to her body.
The doorbell rang again and she nearly tripped over the vacuum cleaner she’d left in the hallway. “I’m coming,” she shouted. A minute later, she reached the door and was surprised to see Frankie.
“Good. You’re up,” she said, stepping into the house. “We’ve been drafted to pick up Flex from the airport.”
Peyton closed the door behind her sister. “Whoa. Whoa. I thought Flex was coming tomorrow.”
“Sheldon got the dates wrong. She blames it on her hormones being out of whack.” Frankie rolled her eyes, and then continued on to the kitchen. “You haven’t made any coffee yet?”
“I was in the shower,” Peyton said, following her. “What time is he supposed to land?”
“Three o’clock in San Francisco.”
“I can’t. You’re going to have to get Joey or Michael to go with you. I have plans.”
Frankie’s eyebrows dipped together. “What do you mean? We haven’t seen Flex in a year. Can’t you put off whatever it is?”
“Lincoln is coming into town today. Two o�
��clock at the San Jose Airport.” Peyton leaned against the refrigerator. “I have a lot planned.”
Frankie’s lips twitched upward. “Ah, tonight is the night, huh?”
“You can say that.”
“Since when is getting laid more important than family?” Frankie asked sweetly.
“Don’t give me that. Flex is not being abandoned. There are plenty of other family members. Take Daddy. That will be a good way to force those two to start talking again.”
Frankie held up a finger and started to protest, and then she stopped to think about it. “You know, that’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is. I thought of it, didn’t I?” She winked. “I have to finish getting ready, I want to stop by the gym and get in a workout—or should I say ‘a warm-up’ in?—before Lincoln arrives.”
“You go, girl.”
* * *
Lincoln missed his flight.
“I don’t believe this.” He sank his head into his hands for a brief moment while he stood at the ticket counter. “When is your next flight to San Jose?”
“Let me just check on that for you,” the male ticket agent said, and then began typing away. After inputting enough keystrokes for a great American novel, he looked up at him. “It looks like we have a spot on the ten-fifteen.”
“P.M.?”
The agent checked again. “Yes, sir.”
Lincoln’s head fell back into his hands with a groan.
The typing continued in front of him. “But if you’re willing to fly into San Francisco, I can get you on the one o’clock flight. It leaves in twenty minutes.”
“It’s a deal.” Lincoln dug into his back pocket for his wallet. Maybe the day wasn’t doomed, after all.
On his way to his terminal, he called Peyton at home and was disappointed when he reached her answering machine.
“Hey, baby. Linc here. There’s been a slight change in plans.” He quickly left his new flight information and then hoped for the best.
Minutes later, he was settled into a nice window when he looked up and was stunned to see someone familiar boarding the plane.
Flex!
Immediately, Lincoln shot out a hand to grab one of the airline’s catalogs and buried his face behind its pages. What if his seat is in my row? The very thought made him ill.
He waited a few minutes while his stomach twisted into knots before he chanced to peek around the catalog. Just two rows ahead of him, Flex Adams sat in a window seat. When it rains, it pours.
Lincoln lowered his catalog and took another look at his watch. Would he be able to avoid Flex’s attention during the five-hour flight? Lord, I hope so.
* * *
Flex was a nervous basket case.
Armed with a new story about his recent breakup with Trey, he swore that he would never lie to his family again. It was just too exhausting and too high a price to pay to save face with Morgan. Of course, this story would undoubtedly compel them to throw the much-dreaded pity party. However, after a few days or months, it would all be over.
Once the plane had finally taken off and he was permitted to remove his seat belt, Flex couldn’t remain in his seat. Every few minutes, it seemed, he had to go the restroom. It didn’t take long for his frequent trips to annoy the rest of the people in his row. After two hours, the man on the end offered to exchange seats with him.
In review, he attributed his problem to nerves. Flex had never been a fan of flying. On one trip to the restroom, he noticed one guy who kept a magazine draped over his face while he slept. Maybe that was what he needed to do: sleep through the rest of the flight.
This time when Flex returned to his chair, he bought a headset, selected a classical music station and forced himself to sleep.
* * *
Lincoln swore that if Flex stood up one more time, he was just going to put his buddy out of his misery. The man has to have a urinary tract infection or something.
Rolling his eyes, Lincoln focused on his new problem. If Peyton was at his gate when…no, she wouldn’t be allowed at the gate, she would meet him at baggage claim. But if Flex was going to the same terminal, wouldn’t she spot her brother, as well? Flex was a tall man—not easily missed.
Around and around Lincoln’s thoughts chased each other. He had no ready solution, other than to pray; and judging by his day so far, no miracles were in sight.
When the plane was at last preparing for landing, Lincoln was mentally exhausted. Though he would rather talk to Peyton first, if today were going to be the day he confronted Flex about their relationship, then so be it.
* * *
Flex woke up just as the fasten-seat-belt light switched on. This was the part he hated: landing. He tensed in his seat as the plane descended and he fought back another incredible urge to run to the restroom. However, touchdown wasn’t as bad as he feared, and before he knew it they were rolling toward their gate.
On cue, everyone stood and started removing their things from the overhead compartments. He followed the line out of the plane, feeling good to be back in sunny California. As he followed the airport’s signs, directing him to baggage claim, the excitement of seeing his family took root. This was going to be a great vacation.
Lincoln stayed several feet behind Flex. The hope of getting out of this sticky situation was dim. At baggage claim, Lincoln lingered in the background.
“Susie, come back here,” a female screeched.
Lincoln turned just as a runaway child bolted by him.
The mother, however, remained hot on the little girl’s trail.
It was a small ruckus, but it was big enough to cause Flex to turn around.
“Lincoln?”
“Flex,” Lincoln exclaimed and forced a look of surprise. “How’s it going, buddy?” He reached his friend’s side and slapped his back in greeting.
Flex’s expression twisted in confusion. “What are you doing here?” he asked, glancing around. “Were we on the same flight?”
“Francis!” a male voice boomed toward them.
Flex’s expression fell seconds before an older mirror image of himself appeared at his side and pulled him into a rough embrace. “Dad?”
Lincoln’s eyebrows rose at the man’s identity. Peyton’s father. Together the two men looked like a large section of a brick wall. Tall, broad-shouldered and more than a little intimidating.
“What, you’re not happy to see your old man?”
Flex blinked. “No. It’s nothing like that…I’m just…surprised.”
“Is that my handsome baby brother?”
Lincoln watched a taller, thicker version of Peyton wrap her arms around Flex. The love she had for her brother radiated in her smile.
Suddenly, she noticed Lincoln. “Oh, where are our manners?” She pulled out of Flex’s arms to approach him.
“Uh, Frankie. Wait a minute,” Flex said, reaching for her arm.
“Just a sec, Flex. I don’t want your friend to think we’re being rude.”
Their father also approached.
“Hi,” she said, thrusting out her hand. “I’m Franklin Becker, this is our father, Marlin Adams, and you must be Trey?”
Lincoln blinked. “Yes, ma’am. As a matter of fact, I am.”
Chapter 20
“Welcome to the family.” Marlin’s strong arms pulled Lincoln into a tight bear hug.
Unsure of what to make of this sudden turn of events, he cast a look over at Flex and
was surprised to see his friend’s face lose much of its coloring. He tried to wait until Marlin released him, but the hug held on longer than was necessary.
“Uh, sir, it’s, uh, nice to meet you.”
Marlin finally released his death grip and stepped back, but to Lincoln’s surprise the man seemed to have tears in his eyes.
“This is a happy day for me,” Marlin said, wiping at the stray tear that had escaped. “I swore this time, I was going to be here for my boy. But I have to warn you, I’m kind of new to this sort of thing.”
“Dad.” Flex jumped to stand next to Lincoln. “We can talk about all of this once we get back to the house.”
“Talk about what?” Lincoln glanced at his friend.
“Flex is right,” Frankie cut in. “Let’s just grab you two’s luggage and head back to the house.” She draped an arm around Lincoln. “Everyone is just dying to meet you, Trey.”
Lincoln’s eyebrows rose. “You guys already know about us?”
Frankie released a girlish giggle that was nearly as adorable as Peyton’s. “Of course we know. Nothing stays a secret in this family. You better get used to that.”
“What a relief.” He relaxed. “I can’t tell you how nervous I was about this whole thing.” Lincoln glanced over at his buddy, wearing a wide smile. How long had Flex known about him and his sister?
“Oh, isn’t this great, Daddy?” She placed her hands against her face and then pulled Lincoln into her embrace. “I like you already.”
When he was finally released, Lincoln puffed out his chest. “I’m happy to hear that. I like you, too.” He glanced around. “Where is Peyton?”
“Oh, she couldn’t make it. But she’s promised to swing by Dad’s a little later.”
Lincoln nodded, still unable to believe this turn of events. As everyone moved toward the conveyor belt spinning everyone’s luggage, Lincoln nudged Flex in the side. “I owe you one, dog,” he whispered. “You had me sweating bullets all this time.”
Measure of a Man Page 14
