I wish I’d stayed until Stanley drove off. I should have gone over and talked to Linc.
He must think I hate him.
It’s now ten at night, and I’m worried. What’s he doing?
He’s never been this absent since he first arrived. I’ve always seen some sign of life, like his car parked in a different position.
It’s been radio silence since I told him to leave me alone the day Stanley arrived.
I didn’t mean it. Seeing his brother had been a massive shock, and it catapulted me back four years to the last time I had seen him, when everything was so new and raw. I acted out of fear, but Linc might believe I meant it.
What if he thinks I don’t want to see him again?
I was on my way to tell him my parents were behind us and that I wanted to be with him despite probably never being okay with Stanley.
God, I have screwed up so badly. Again.
My mum and dad have gone to visit my aunt and uncle for the night. I take the stairs far too fast and have to grip the banister, so I don’t face-plant. My feet can’t get to Linc quick enough.
I slam the front door and run across the grass to his front door. My footsteps squelching on the wet ground.
“Linc?” I call as I knock.
Biting my lip as nerves explode in my stomach, I lean in and try to listen for any sign of him in there. It’s deathly quiet. His car is in the drive, and I’ve not noticed Ian or Jack come and pick him up.
I twist the handle, and the door opens.
Where is he?
Walking in, I close the door behind me and flick the light on because the house is cloaked in darkness.
Maybe he’s asleep?
Whatever is going on though, we need to sort this.
I move deeper into the house, and that’s when I hear a light thud, like something hitting the floor. It wasn’t heavy enough to be Linc falling, but I follow the noise anyway.
When I step into the kitchen, my heart takes a nosedive.
Linc is sitting on the floor in the kitchen, leaning against a cabinet. Drinking.
The sight of him squeezing his eyes closed as he takes a long swig of whiskey straight from the bottle takes my breath away.
I did this.
He’s drunk. No, he’s wasted. His hair is messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it the way he does when he’s angry or frustrated. His small movements are sluggish.
Lincoln is drinking! He doesn’t drink.
I step closer, tears stinging. “Linc,” I whisper.
He stills. His eyes flick open, and the bottle freezes at his lips.
Dark blue eyes, full of pain, stare into me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, kneeling down in front of him.
He watches me as I reach out and take the bottle from him. Besides letting it go, he doesn’t react.
“You don’t drink.”
That earns a hollow laugh from him. Shaking his head, he looks up. “Four years, not a drop has passed my lips, and three months after coming back here, I’m drunk.” His voice is slurred and slow. He rolls his head to the side, and his eyes meet mine again. “I haven’t even wanted a drink until you.”
Ouch.
I look away, guilt settling in the pit of my stomach and making my shoulders double over. The bottle is still in my hand, and I feel like joining him, but alcohol has never helped anything for me yet, so I put it down.
“I’m sorry about the other day, Linc. Seeing him again was a shock, but I didn’t mean what I said to you. I just wish I had known he was coming back, so I could have prepared myself for seeing him again.”
“I didn’t know he was coming back,” he slurs. “I wouldn’t have let him if I’d known.”
“I know,” I reply.
He groans and runs his hand through his hair. “How the fuck do you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Wreck me.” Blinking heavily, he sucks in a breath. “It fucking hurts. Loving you only fucking hurts.”
It only hurts.
The pit in my stomach widens.
“Linc,” I whisper again, tears sliding down my face.
I know the pain he’s talking about. I feel it, too, and I would give anything to have it be like the movies. Shouldn’t we be walking on air and having sex every five minutes? Why couldn’t I fall for someone easy to love?
“Don’t,” he says, but I only just make out the word.
His eyelids are getting heavier. There are only a few sips of the bottle left, so he’s made a good dent. It’s going to hurt tomorrow, especially since he doesn’t usually drink.
“You need to sleep this off,” I say, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
“Don’t cry,” he mutters. “I can’t stand you being upset. Fuck, Tilly, I love you. Everything gets in the way. It’s never going to happen, is it?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer before continuing, and I’m kind of glad because I don’t have the answer, “It’s not enough. All those wankers who said love was all you needed can fucking burn.”
“Linc, let’s get you to bed.”
We need this conversation. We can’t keep going on like this. First, it was me breaking at the beach and cemetery, and now, it’s him.
He groans and closes his eyes. “You should just go.”
“No.” I stand and bend down to get his hands.
When we touch, my heart races, and Linc’s mouth parts, his eyes burning into mine, desire flaming behind the blue.
Well, that’s why he wanted me to go and not to help him.
I pull because, despite not wanting to make things even worse here, I want to take care of him. He’s going to hate himself in the morning when he sobers up. He made a conscious decision not to drink, and he’s broken that. I’ve made him break that. There is no way I’m leaving him to wake up to that kind of guilt and self-loathing.
“Come on. Let me help you.”
He pushes himself to his feet, still holding one of my hands, and stumbles into me. Groaning again, he lowers his head, burying his face against my neck, and squeezes my hand. I should pull away, but I can’t. In fact, I find myself sinking against his chest.
I place my palm on the solid muscle over his stomach.
Linc mumbles something. I think he’s telling me he loves me, but his voice is too muffled from the booze and my skin.
“You need to sleep this off.”
He lifts his head a fraction. His dark blue eyes are wounded. “I drank, Tilly.”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” I say and tug him forward.
Most of his weight is on me, and he’s unable to walk in a straight line. We zigzag upstairs, Linc placing his feet so carefully on the stairs, like it’s taking extra concentration to move.
I can’t believe I’ve done this to him.
I manage to get him all the way upstairs and into his room. He flops down on his bed and swears. It looks the same as before in here—grey walls, very minimalistic, with a few classic horror movie posters from cinemas hanging up.
Rolling onto his back, he chucks his arm over his eyes. His chest caves as he takes deep breaths.
My heart shatters, as I know how much he’s hurting right now.
“Linc, I’m so sorry,” I say, climbing onto the bed with him.
Moving onto his side, away from me, he mutters, “I don’t want you to see this.” His voice is raw, slurred, and thick with emotion. His back jumps with silent sobs.
I lie down, facing his back, because even if this is all he will let me see right now, I’ll take it. The remainder of my fragile heart breaks, and there is nothing I can do to stop myself from sobbing. I cry because I love him. I cry because nothing about this is easy. I cry because I want nothing more than to have him wrap his arms around me.
“Linc,” I cry, sobbing harder, knowing that he’s as broken as I am right now.
The pain of our situation takes my breath away.
He finally hears me over his own despair and rolls over. He l
ooks up at the headboard, not letting me see his face, but he does do one thing I desperately need and wraps me in a tight embrace that is full of promises to fix us both.
Linc and I hold each other until we drift off to sleep. I crash hard, my body melting into his.
Somewhere during the early hours, when the sky is still black, I wake up because I’m too hot. Linc is behind me, his chest plastered to my back, arm around my waist. His breath quickens, blowing against my ear.
My top has pulled up to my belly button, and Linc’s hand is resting on my stomach, right at the waistband of my leggings.
Oh my God, move that hand.
I grit my teeth in desperation as his touch ignites a fire between my legs. I’m facing away from him, so I can’t see if he’s awake.
All I know is that I’m supposed to be asleep, but I’m currently trying to control my hormones because my clit is pulsing. His skin grazing mine is maddening.
I press my legs together as his fingers sweep upward. Wrong direction, but it’s now only inches from my breasts. My nipples are hard already. My mouth parts. Linc’s touch is electric. His chest moves quicker, fingers digging gently into my skin.
He’s awake and as turned on as you.
I’m throbbing, heat pooling between my legs.
I want to say something, but I don’t know if he knows I’m awake. Like I’d be asleep right now.
“Tilly,” he whispers so quietly.
My pounding heartbeat almost drowns his voice out.
My breath catches in my throat.
Linc’s body tenses. Well, he knows I’m awake now.
I clutch the bedsheet in my fist, and he moans. I can’t have any more distance between us. I’m over being away from him; it’s too hard—which, coincidentally, is the current state of his dick.
I turn around, so we’re face-to-face.
The bedroom is bathed in darkness, but I can just about make out his silhouette. It’s dead silent with neither of us daring to breathe.
Then, his mouth grazes mine, and my heart loses it entirely.
I squirm against the burning between my legs as Linc moves his lips hard over mine. Groaning, he rolls me onto my back and kisses me with a force that makes my toes curl.
Arching my back, I desperately grind against him, needing the friction to satisfy the throbbing.
Linc obliges and arches his hips into mine, his tongue probing my mouth, flicking strong and fast, promising things to come.
His hands glide down my body, and he grabs a fistful of my T-shirt by the hem and tugs it up. His mouth leaves mine for the briefest of seconds while he whips my top over my head. He, thankfully, is already shirtless.
I run my hands down his chest, feeling every bump of his solid muscle as I go. His lips meet mine again in a rough kiss that sends me spinning. I shove at his joggers—no boxers underneath it would seem—and use my feet to kick them the rest of the way off his legs.
And that’s about where my control over the situation ends.
Linc moves quickly, like reactions of a cat quickly, to remove my leggings and thong.
His hand brushes against my stomach, and I don’t know if I want it to go north or south. I actually don’t care, just as long as he’s still touching me somehow.
He chooses north, and his strong hand cups my breast, squeezing. I almost buck off the mattress as his thumb and finger circle my nipple, and he moans into my mouth.
I’m going to fucking explode in a second.
I arch my hips, trying to tell him what I want. His moan is muffled by my tongue. Linc wastes no time in granting my request. He grips his cock and lines it up at my entrance. His mouth leaves mine. We’re both breathing heavily, my chest caving.
Linc pushes inside, his eyes squinting shut in the dark room. I watch his face, my mouth falling open at the feel of him stretching me to fit him. He’s big, hard, and perfect, and I never want this moment to end.
He fills me completely until I can feel his pelvis against mine.
“Oh,” I breathe, my eyes flitting closed as I clench around him.
Nothing has ever felt this good. His skin raw against mine sends a shudder through my body. My clit pulses at the feel of him so deep.
Linc moves his hips, and my eyes fly open. I raise my butt, meeting his every stroke as he pulls almost all the way out and slams back into me. I grind myself against him every time his hips meet mine.
Oh shit!
Pressure is building in my body, the need to come overtaking everything else. I dig my nails into his shoulders and cry out his name as he plays my body like a damn musician.
“Linc,” I murmur.
He groans and roughly grabs my hip. Something in his eyes changes, and he pounds into me over and over, every stroke of his hips harder than the last, sending me insane.
He’s lost control, and I love it. His cock slams into me over and over in the most stunningly powerful way. I’m getting so close, I feel the fire spreading through my body. His mouth comes down hard on mine and he groans my name.
“Oh God,” I murmur against his frantic mouth.
This is too good. I can feel every inch of him inside me, very quickly driving me insane.
He pulls away to kiss my neck, his tongue dragging over my skin, making my toes curl. I close my eyes when his hand sweeps up my body and finds my breast.
I want to tell him to go slower and go faster at the same time. I’m so close, it’s torture waiting, but I want to make this last forever. This is us. We’re together, he’s inside me, and I have never felt so good in my life.
“Please don’t stop,” I cry, arching my body into him.
He tugs my nipple, and I gasp.
“Linc…”
“You feel incredible,” he says against my neck as his teeth gazes my skin. “You’re so tight, so perfect. I can’t get enough.”
Shit.
My hands reach up and tangle into his hair as my body coils tight. I’m going to come. I writhe underneath him and throw my head back, tugging fistfuls of his messy hair.
“Yes,” he breathes. “Come for me, Tilly. Come around my cock.”
His words are the trigger. I let go, falling into oblivion as my body shakes with an orgasm that makes me dizzy.
“Fuck.” He presses his forehead to mine, his eyebrows pinched together, almost like he’s in pain. “Fuck, you’re squeezing the life out of me. I’m going to come inside you, Tilly.”
“Yes,” I pant. Oh God, I want that. “I want to feel you come.” I grab the muscle on the small of his back. “Linc, come inside me.”
Dropping his head to my shoulder, he moans long and loud as he pumps into me.
Linc’s movements slow, and my body goes slack, the intensity of my orgasm turning my limbs to mush.
His lips lightly press down on my neck, and he pulls out of me. I curl onto my side, still in his arms, and it takes me only seconds to fall back to sleep with a faint smile touching my lips.
44
Tilly
I’m not sure which one of us fell asleep first the second time around, but when I wake up in the morning, we’re in the same position, clinging to each other. Naked.
Linc is still sleeping. He looks a lot more peaceful now, but I know that’s not going to last because, even if we manage to sort something out between us, he’s still going to have to deal with the fact that he consumed alcohol—and a lot of it.
And we had sex.
Not that I think he’s going to be all cut up over that one, but it is something we need to talk about. I know the sex was in the middle of some massive emotional breakdown on both our parts, but it was supposed to happen.
My body feels like I had hot sex last night. I’m sore in the best way, and my thigh muscles ache from holding on around Linc’s back.
Somewhere along the road, Linc and I are supposed to be together. It’s just a shame we’ve hurt each other so much to get to this point.
Will he be angry with me for his drinking?
I close my eyes as guilt floods my heart. He was so sure that he never wanted to drink again.
He should be pissed at me, but there’s no point in me stressing over something that might not happen.
I slip out of his arms and head downstairs to make coffee and get him some water and tablets. He’s going to have a banging headache; that’s for sure.
I’m just finishing the drinks when I hear him come downstairs.
He looks around the corner with wild eyes, like he’s lost something—me. He thought I’d taken off. When he settles on me, he releases a breath, and his shoulders relax.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
I feel like I’ve been run over, so he must be ten times worse.
“I thought you’d gone.”
“I figured you’d need these,” I say, picking up the tablets and water from the counter and handing them to him.
He takes the pills and downs them with a long swig of water. When he puts the glass down, he notices the whiskey bottle on the floor. I should have moved it, but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, bending down to get the bottle.
He walks past and takes it from my hand. He pours the small remainder out into the sink. “You didn’t force me to drink, Tilly.”
“I didn’t hold it to your mouth, but we both know I’m not blameless.”
“You know, I wish there could be one moment between us where there is no blame or no guilt.”
“Last night,” I whisper.
His burning eyes pin me to the spot.
“Or this morning, although I don’t really know what time it was. I don’t feel guilty for that. I don’t regret being with you.”
He watches me like he’s sure I’m lying.
“What are you saying, Tilly?”
I step closer, splaying my hand over his naked chest, feeling the erratic beating of his heart. “I’m saying I love you, and I don’t regret you.”
I expected more talking because we’re very good at talking in circles when it comes to us. But he doesn’t say anything at all. Well, he does, but it’s nonverbal because his mouth closes over mine.
After the End Page 26
