by Lauren Layne
“Daisy—”
“I want you,” she said, going for simple and straightforward. “I want your hands on me, I want you gentle, rough, desperate, because I’m feeling all those things. I’ve been feeling them.”
He swore softly, his forehead resting on hers, and she could feel him warring with himself.
Damn stubborn man.
Daisy would stop short of pleading, but she would fight.
She pushed him back, firmly, purposely. “You said you came over to apologize for the way you left me that last night in Charlotte.”
Lincoln pulled back slightly and nodded, even with narrowed eyes.
She went on her toes, pressed her lips softly to his. “Don’t make the same mistake twice. Don’t leave.”
“Wallflower, you don’t know what you’re asking.”
In response, she took his hand, and walking backward, led him toward her bedroom. If her living room was a bit bare, her bedroom was even more so, but he didn’t seem to notice.
It had a bed, and that was all that mattered.
She saw the indecision on his face—the gentleman warring with the man—and decided to make it easy. Daisy shrugged off the cardigan and tossed it aside before holding his gaze and peeling the tank top up and over her head.
He groaned as his eyes darkened to a midnight blue, and Daisy slowly backed toward the bed, pausing when the back of her knees hit it, before nonchalantly peeling off the shorts.
She held them to the side for a heartbeat, still holding his gaze, before she let those drop as well. Daisy thought she’d be embarrassed—it was the first time she’d even tried to seduce a man—but from the way his gaze raked hungrily over her body, she was doing something right.
She eased back onto the bed, and though she stopped short of the cliché come-hither crook of the finger, the invitation could not have been more clear.
Lincoln’s eyes closed. “Damn it, Daisy.”
Then he was shrugging out of his suit jacket, tossing it on top of a cardboard box she hadn’t yet unpacked. His fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt as he approached the bed, and she almost told him to stop so that she could unbutton them herself, but she was too eager to see him, to feel his heavy weight on top of her.
Lincoln kicked off his shoes, and Daisy moved to the edge of her bed, pushing up on her knees to tug the shirt from his shoulders as he bent his head to claim her mouth in another heart-stopping kiss. Lincoln pulled back only long enough to pull his undershirt up and over his head.
Daisy’s hands were on him before the shirt hit the ground. “I’d just like to point out what excellent self-control I had keeping my hands off this as long as I did.”
“Same goes,” he said gruffly as his palms skimmed up her rib cage before molding her breasts in his hands. “You’re more perfect than I imagined.”
“You imagined this?” she asked breathlessly as his thumbs brushed over her nipples.
“You have no idea.” He kissed her again, slow and a little sweet as her hands found his belt buckle, unfastening his pants before slowly easing them over his hips.
He stepped back slightly, holding her gaze as he ditched his pants and socks, standing before her only in basic black briefs that showed off his body to perfection.
Lincoln grinned at her, clearly amused by her blatant admiration, and just when she thought he might have overstated his urgency, she found herself flat on her back on the bed, his hands on either side of her head, bracing himself over her body as he fused their mouths once more.
Daisy felt dizzy with desire as she wrapped her arms around him, needing to get closer. When she tilted her hips up, brushing the thin fabric of her underwear against his erection, he broke off the kiss with a harsh curse.
Her fingers slid to the band of his briefs, but his hands found her wrists, slamming them back to the bed, holding her still as he bent his head to her breast, his tongue sliding warm and teasing over her nipple.
Daisy cried out and arched up, and he licked again. His lips and tongue teased her until she was writhing, his name a prayer on her lips. Finally he answered her plea, wrapping his mouth around a nipple as his teeth scraped her lightly.
She clawed on his head. It was good, so good, but she needed more. Everything.
Daisy didn’t realize she’d said it out loud until she felt him smile against her damp flesh.
His hand slipped down, sliding over her stomach until he cupped her, warm and wet through the fabric of her panties.
Lincoln groaned as he lifted his head and looked at her. “Do you have any idea what touching you does to me? How much I’ve fantasized about touching you here?”
She shook her head, meeting his eyes as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, gliding over her slick flesh.
Lincoln teased her clit with circling, torturous movement before his hand slid lower and he put a finger inside her.
He dropped his head to her shoulder, pulling her skin between his teeth as he slid his finger in and out of her, both of them breathing more and more raggedly.
“Tell me you have a condom,” he growled.
“Pill,” she said. “And tested after the divorce, and there’s been no-one…”
Lincoln shifted, and in seconds he had both of them out of their underwear and was braced above her.
His hands braced on either side of her head as his cock nudged her opening. In answer, she parted her legs wider, ran her fingers over his back.
“Daisy.” Lincoln swallowed as he nudged against her again. “Daisy, I’ve gone as slow as I can, but I don’t think I can be gentle.”
She dug her nails in a little deeper into his back, and she tilted her hips up. “I don’t want gentle. I just want you.”
It was all he needed. Lincoln shifted slightly, then thrust inside her, filling her so firmly, so thoroughly that she gasped.
“Fuck,” he said, his eyes closed as he breathed heavily, sweat beading on his forehead. “Fuck me.”
But then he started to move, and there was no doubt who was doing the fucking. Lincoln was in control. He’d been right. He wasn’t gentle. He was rough and demanding, and Daisy relished every thrust, every gasp as he pounded into her.
His thrusts grew quicker, and he lowered from his hands to his forearms, his arms cradling her head, fingers tangled in her hair. His body slammed into hers again and again until he tensed, growling her name as he bucked inside her.
Daisy stayed with him the whole way, her arms wrapped around him, wanting to hold him forever, wanting to be everything he ever needed, always.
When his breathing slowed, he shifted, pulling away from her enough to brush her damp hair back from her face. His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “Well, that wasn’t well done of me.”
“I disagree,” she said, her voice husky.
“Would you believe me if I told you that under different circumstances, I’m a hell of a lot better about giving my woman pleasure.”
“Lincoln Mathis, I’m pretty sure you were put on this earth to give women pleasure.”
He dipped his head, giving her a hot, tongue-twisting kiss. “I’d like a chance to prove it.”
His hand slid down her side, slipping between her thighs, and nudging them apart.
“Lincoln, you don’t have to—”
He swallowed her protest with a kiss, his thumb pressing against her as he slipped a finger, then a second inside her.
“What was that?” he murmured against her mouth.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped.
He quickened his pace, the circles of his thumb growing faster and smaller until Daisy’s body tightened and shattered beneath his skilled hands. He stayed with her through every shudder, his lips capturing every cry and gasp.
Finally her heartbeat slowed, and he propped his head on his hand, looking down at her as he idly stroked her side.
“Hi,” she said, feeling suddenly shy.
“Hi,” he said with a smile.
“What are you think
ing?”
He snorted. “Seriously, Wallflower?”
Daisy laughed. “I know. That’s the ultimate cliché of what not to ask a man, but then our circumstances are hardly normal. Our story is hardly typical.”
“I happen to like our story,” he said, his hand widening its strokes over her torso, accidentally-on-purpose skimming the undersides of her breasts. “Especially now that it’s taken a turn for the naked.”
“No regrets?” she asked, hating herself for asking, but unable to stop herself. She’d just slept with a guy who hadn’t had sex in almost three years, most of those being engaged to a woman who didn’t even recognize him.
They weren’t just two mutually attracted adults acting on their lust. Her past was complicated. His even more so.
Lincoln’s body had been with her every second, she’d known that with every thrust. But what about his mind?
What about his heart?
Had he been thinking about her, Daisy? Or had he been remembering Katie, either out of missing her or guilt?
“Wallflower.” Lincoln’s voice was firm, forcing her eyes up to his. “I don’t regret a single moment.”
“No?” she whispered.
He slid a hand into her hair, palming her cheek and looking down at her with something…affection?
Then he bent his head to hers, claiming her mouth in a kiss that was sweet with promises.
He rolled on top of her, and her eyes widened as she realized he was hard again.
“Already?” she asked.
“Guess I’m making up for lost time,” he murmured, his lips drifting over her chest, his breath warm on her nipple.
“No complaints here,” she said on a gasp as he licked her.
“Good,” he whispered. “Because now I plan to take my time.”
He did. He worshiped her with hands and mouth, and she did the same for him. And good as it was, and it was more than good, as they drifted off into a sex-dazed sleep, she couldn’t help but wonder what came after the “naked part” of their story, as he’d called it.
More alarming, Daisy was realizing her story with Lincoln Mathis was one she never wanted to end.
Chapter 28
A week after Lincoln had gotten back from vacation and walked into his office to see Nick Ballantine behind his desk, he had déjà vu of the worst kind.
Lincoln’s whistling stopped abruptly at the sight of the tall dark-haired man in his chair, leaning back and looking at his phone, feet on Lincoln’s desk like he owned the place.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Nick glanced up and smiled when he saw Lincoln, but there was nothing friendly about it.
His feet dropped to the ground and he stood. “Sorry, Mathis. Had you staked some sort of claim here?”
The other man’s tone was purposefully casual, and Lincoln immediately understood. Daisy.
She and Nick had prearranged brunch plans for yesterday. Lincoln had been less than thrilled about her insistence on keeping their date but had been mollified slightly when she’d explained that she wanted to break things off with Nick gently.
Not that there’d been anything to break off, precisely, but Daisy had pointed out that some news deserved to be delivered face-to-face.
She’d said he’d taken it well.
Looking at the man now, Lincoln wasn’t so sure.
“Look, man,” Lincoln said quietly. “I’ve known her longer than you have.”
And she’s been mine since the very beginning.
“Right. So I’m supposed to be impressed that it’s taken you months to figure out how great she is, when I knew it right off?”
“Circumstances were different when I met Daisy,” Lincoln said, his voice clipped as he walked around the desk.
Nick backed away, but only slightly, shoving hands in his pocket. No suit today. Just dark jeans and a black dress shirt. “I was sorry to hear about your fiancée. Bum deal.”
“Understatement,” Lincoln snapped.
Nick nodded, and Lincoln got the uncomfortable sense that he was being studied.
“Something you want to say?” Lincoln asked.
“She a rebound?”
The question had Lincoln’s head snapping up, his shoulders going tense with anger. “Seriously, man? I’ve met you exactly once. I don’t know you.”
“And I don’t know you, so reassure me that you’re not dicking Daisy around, using her to get over your shit.”
“I’m over my shit,” Lincoln ground out. Or at least I’m working on it.
Nick shrugged his shoulders as if to say okay, even though his face read: bullshit.
Lincoln decided to push back, dropping his bag to the ground and settling into the chair just vacated as he spun idly around and gave Nick a taunting look. “You know, for all your sniffing around Daisy, I’d’ve bet serious money that Taylor Carr is the one who really has your dick in a knot.”
Nick’s head snapped back, barely, but enough for Lincoln to know he’d struck a nerve and gained a point.
“Taylor’s a bitch. She’s also dating Bradley Cross.”
Bradley Cross was Oxford’s lead ad exec. Lincoln couldn’t say he knew him well—their paths didn’t cross often—but he’d always gotten the impression that the guy was bland at best, douchebag at worst. Hardly the type of guy that a firecracker like Taylor would be satisfied by.
“I know,” Nick grumbled, apparently reading Lincoln’s thoughts. “Grade-A asshole. Which is why he’s perfect for Taylor.”
Lincoln laughed. “All right. I get it. I was off base about you and Taylor’s hate thing being sexually motivated, but that doesn’t change the fact that—”
“Daisy’s yours,” Ballantine bit out. “Got that loud and clear from the drippy way she talked about you yesterday.”
Lincoln felt a stab of pleasure. He and Daisy had only been doing…whatever they were doing…for a week. But it felt right. It felt good. There was the laughter and easy camaraderie from their time together in North Carolina, but there was also the sex.
The two combined made Lincoln, well…happy.
Which was great, except that hot on the heels of that happiness was always guilt. The sense that it was too soon after Katie, the sense that he shouldn’t get to feel this way about a woman twice in his life.
And along with the guilt was worry.
Worry that Ballantine was right, and that maybe, just maybe, Lincoln was using Daisy. Using her as a crutch to get away from the pain. Maybe even using her to replace the emptiness left by Katie’s accident and death.
“I need to get to work,” Lincoln said, his voice crisp and dismissive.
Ballantine smirked as though he knew exactly what sort of treacherous thoughts he’d planted in Lincoln’s head.
“No prob,” he said, walking toward the door. He turned back. “Just know that I’ll be waiting.”
“For what?” Lincoln stopped.
Ballantine’s smirk turned into a grin. “For you to fuck it up with Daisy.”
Then he was gone, leaving Lincoln with the fierce urge to punch something. Preferably Ballantine. The other man had spoken as though it was an inevitability. There’d been no if in his statement.
As though Lincoln fucking it up with Daisy was a foregone conclusion.
Lincoln jerked open the third drawer of his desk. He kept a candy stash for tough days the way guys in the Mad Men era had kept liquor. He hadn’t needed it all week, but damn it, he wanted sugar, and—
He jerked his hand back as though burned. There alongside his bags of Jolly Ranchers and Kit Kats and Rolos was a framed photo of Katie. He’d never dared to put it out on his desk for fear of the questions it would bring, but it, along with the candy, had been a source of comfort for him. A reminder of who he was, and what his life was to be.
He’d forgotten it was here.
How had he forgotten it was here?
He wanted to shove the drawer closed again, but he forced himself to pick up the basic si
lver frame. He’d snapped the photo with his phone on a trip to the Hamptons. The sandy wind had blown her dark blond hair all over the place, but it hadn’t obstructed her gorgeous green eyes.
He’d always looked at the picture and imagined her laughter, but now he could have sworn she was looking at him with something else.
Accusation.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
In an effort to make amends for forgetting about her, he set the frame on the desk. He wouldn’t leave it there. That would be morbid. But he needed it here, just for a few minutes.
Forgetting about the candy, he shut the drawer and rested his elbows on the desk, pressing his thumbs against his closed eyelids. He’d been an idiot to think that it would take nothing but a trip to Costa Rica to fix things. An idiot to imagine that he deserved happiness—
“Lincoln?”
He glanced up, and God damn it, there was Daisy.
And double God damn it, she was wearing the dress. The dress. The blue number with the black lace that she’d worn the night in Charlotte when he’d word-fucked her. Word-fucked both of them.
“You okay?” she asked, coming into the office and shutting the door.
No. So far from okay.
“Yeah,” he said, pushing back from his desk.
Her eyes lifted at his gruff tone, but she didn’t say anything. “Um, I just wanted to stop by and—”
“I know why you stopped by,” he interrupted.
Daisy blinked. “You do?”
Lincoln moved past her, and quietly, purposefully locked the door, before turning back to her.
“I do,” he said quietly, reaching out and sliding his hand into her hair, a little bit roughly, as his thumb traced along her jawline, his eyes locked on the full mouth that had tempted him in the worst ways since the very beginning.
Damn her. Damn her for the things she did to him.
Without preamble, he spun her around, knowing he was acting desperate, but he needed this. Needed her.
“You wore this dress on purpose,” he said, his voice coming out gravelly.
She gave a nervous laugh that told him he was dead-on. The little minx had come in here to seduce him. He was all too happy to play along.
