The entire car ride back to the farm, Lincoln quietly stared out of the passenger window. I flipped on the radio to break the silence and give him a little space.
From the restaurant window, I had seen Lincoln bent over near the back of his truck. When I sprang up to go to him, Finn pleaded with me to stay behind.
“Let him save face,” Finn begged me.
Afterward, I wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but I assumed it was a panic attack. Did he get those often? Was this a bad one or did they get worse?
A tug at my heart had me chewing my lower lip. Assuming Lincoln didn’t want to talk about it—he definitely seemed like the “bury that shit and pretend it didn’t happen” type—I hummed along to the radio and moved my right hand absently up and down his muscular forearm.
It took until the turn into Mr. Bailey’s expansive driveway to feel the tension drain from Lincoln’s body.
Parking his truck next to mine, I flipped the key to off and turned my body toward Lincoln. “Want to see what I did to Cottage Two or did you want some time alone?”
Lincoln looked at me like he was confused. His cobalt eyes roamed my face, and when he cleared his throat, a little playfulness was back in his voice. “I’d love to see it.”
Together we walked toward my cottage, and Lincoln surprised me by running his hand down my forearm, twining his fingers through mine. The warmth of his palm coursed through me, and I felt my center tighten. I leaned my shoulder closer to him.
I unlocked the door and let Bud zip past us, barking wildly. I laughed as he yipped and circled the cottage. He really loved exploring the open space here.
Stepping into the cottage, I flipped on the small kitchen light. It illuminated the tiny space, and I smiled widely. The floors were peeling at the corners but shined, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. I had even found a small mason jar and filled it with white and purple wildflowers to put on the table. Although it was quaint, I found it quite charming.
“This looks great, Joanna.” His voice was still thick and slightly heavy.
“I think so,” I breathed out. “I love the bay window that looks out onto the water. That’s definitely my favorite part.” I moved toward the window to see Bud chasing a squirrel, and I stifled a laugh when he stumbled over his own four feet.
Lincoln moved behind me, pressing his muscular body against my back. The hard ridges of his abs and hips pushed against me as I leaned back and tilted my head to the side.
His nose moved up my neck, taking in my scent. A warmth pooled between my legs, and I pressed my thighs together. This man, with his earthy, pine scent, was heaven.
“You turned a dirty, dark space into something beautiful. Do you always see the good in everything?”
I considered his words. “There’s always good inside.” I shrugged. I wasn’t sure if we were still talking about the cottage, but the words rang true.
“I hope so,” he whispered. Lincoln moved his mouth over my neck, pressing soft, teasing kisses against my skin.
A gentle groan escaped me as his kisses ignited my desire. I turned to face him. His large frame loomed over me in the dimly lit cottage, and I could see his dark brow was still tight and furrowed. His shoulders hung heavy. Lincoln pressed his forehead to mine.
“My second favorite part of the cottage is the tub,” I said. “You look like you could use a soak.”
“Hmmph. Is that right?” His voice was low.
“Let’s start a fire here, maybe have a little wine, and take a dip. What do you think about that?”
Lincoln pulled his arms tighter around my waist, breathing deeply. A rumble rolled through his chest, and it vibrated through me.
I lifted my hand to his face, searching his eyes. I brushed my thumb over the crease in his brow and placed a kiss on his cheek before moving toward the bathroom.
With the water as hot as I could stand it, I added the Epsom salts I used to ease my achy muscles and some bubble bath I picked up earlier in town while Lincoln let Bud back into the cottage.
I slipped out of my clothes, desperately wishing I had changed into the sexy lingerie I had purchased. As I was pulling the shirt over my head, Lincoln stepped into the bathroom with a bottle of Shiraz and two plastic cups. His hungry eyes roamed over my body. The intense stare should have made me feel self-conscious, but from him, I felt beautiful, desired.
Without taking his gaze from me, Lincoln set down the wine and unfastened his pants. He let them slip to the floor. The intimate gesture of undressing while I watched him had a bead of heat trickling down between my shoulder blades.
His wide palms ran down the hard edges of his abs as he slipped them below the waistband of his black boxer briefs. His thick cock sprang free, and it took everything inside of me not to break down right there and beg for it.
Finding my courage, I walked toward him and lifted a hand to his chest. Circling around him and getting more than an eyeful of his glorious, muscular body, I asked, “Big spoon or little spoon?”
His head turned to the side and looked at me quizzically. “Um…I don’t think I’ve ever been any kind of cutlery.” He groaned as my hand flitted over his hard length but not giving him the grip he desired.
Clearly, this man had never been cuddled, and that was a travesty.
“Ok, big guy, get in. You get to be the little spoon.” A smile played at my lips as I slapped his ass. I had no idea where this brazen, confident woman was coming from, but I loved her.
With a hearty laugh, Lincoln carefully stepped into the warm, bubble-filled tub. The tub itself was old and tiny, his large frame taking up most of it, knees poking up out of the water. I slipped in behind him, settling into the back curve of the tub.
I reached forward, pulling the expanse of his torso against my breasts. My nipples peaked with pleasure, and the sly smile he shot me over his shoulder let me know it did not go unnoticed.
We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, letting the heat and steam soak into our bodies. Lincoln ran his hands up the sides of my calves while I leaned my head against the back of his shoulder. I felt his body release more of the tension he had been carrying, and I breathed in his masculine scent.
I trailed my wet fingers up the side of his torso, and he sucked in a quick breath, his abs flexing tightly.
“Ticklish?” I grinned.
“Maybe just a little,” he admitted.
I continued tracing the broken lines of the tattoos and scars that wrapped around his ribs and up his back.
“You can ask about it, you know.” I could feel his deep voice rumble through his back and into me.
I thought carefully. His ribs, torso, thigh, back, and arm were dotted with long, deep linear marks and even more short, oval scars. In the closeness of the bathtub, I could see how the scars even ran up the side of his neck, disappearing into his hairline. I pressed a kiss to the back of his neck at one of the deepest marks.
After a moment, I answered. “I only need to know what you want to share.”
He exhaled deeply. “That’s the problem,” he said. “You make me want to tell you everything.”
At his words, I pulled him closer into me, wrapping my legs around his trim waist.
“Ok then.” I circled a finger around the unreadable script running down his bicep. “What did this say?”
His hand covered mine, pressing it into his skin. “It’s actually something my dad said to me once.” His voice was quiet, and I stayed still, hoping he’d continue.
“It used to say, ‘Nothing you could ever do.’ Once, I had talked to Dad about some of the shit I had gotten into overseas. Nothing really specific, but he knew it was hard on me, on all of us. He once told me, ‘Nothing you could ever do would make me love you any less.’ I don’t know…that just really stuck with me.”
“That’s beautiful.” Hot tears filled my eyes, and I pushed my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep them from spilling. “I met him, you know. He was such a kind man.” I turned my cheek onto Lincoln’s shoulder.
When he tilted his head toward me, I continued. “When I was in college with Finn, the year before he died, I was over a lot for dinners and we’d go fishing, that kind of thing. Your dad was the one who taught me the Albright knot. I use it all the time and think of him. He was so proud of you, Lincoln.”
He rubbed my arm, pulling it closer to his body. “It helped to have a piece of him with me, especially after his heart attack. That’s what most of these tattoos were—symbols, words…pieces of people important to me, people who helped me get out of there alive.”
Lincoln’s soapy hand covered mine, sending a warm flutter across my chest. Then, he flipped his hand over, resting his exposed forearm across mine on his stomach.
“This one,” he tipped his head toward the marred, barely recognizable Valkyrie wings tattoo, “meant the most to me.” He shifted his body slightly so that he could look right at me.
“Joanna,” he continued, “I kept every letter that you wrote to me.”
“You did?” I could hardly get the words out—hardly believe them—but my heart beat faster at his words.
“I did. But when you wrote and told me the story of the Valkyrie, I knew I had to keep a piece of you with me. The first leave after that, I found a tattoo shop.”
Biting my lip, I summoned all of the bravery I could. “Why haven’t you gotten any of the tattoos fixed?”
Lincoln breathed out. “I looked into it. Tattooing over scars can be difficult and spotty at best. But now, I figure it’s just a reflection of who I am.”
“It’s not your whole story, Lincoln. You need to remember that,” I said. With every wet kiss along his neck, I needed him to feel the emotions pouring out of me. I couldn’t keep telling myself that this was a girlhood crush anymore. I was falling hard and fast for this man and I wanted all of him—broken, scarred, funny, kind—all of it.
Lincoln moved his hand to my face, kissing me gently. His kiss deepened, and my entire body lit up with desire. Who was this woman? This woman who had a sexy-as-hell man naked, having a hot bathtub make-out session? Grabbing my newly found boldness, I moved my hips to the side so I could slide myself out from behind Lincoln.
I shifted my leg over him, straddling him. Through the warm water, I felt the thick length of his cock move between the lips of my pussy. I shifted, dragging my slit against him, and was rewarded with a deep moan while he deepened the kiss.
I may not have been the kind of woman that men desired, but I had him here now and I was damn sure not going to spend time thinking about that.
“Lincoln,” I breathed, “I want you inside me.”
On a growl, he dragged me up with him, out of the bathroom, and tossed me on the bed.
“We really need to start thinking about drying off before we have sex again.” Playful Lincoln was back.
I looked around at the soaked-through sheets and touched my wet, matted hair. Laughter rippled through me. “You’re probably right about that.”
Still out of breath, Lincoln rolled onto his back, taking me with him. Our wet bodies were still pressed together, and I felt his hard length against my belly. Insatiable.
“Good thing we have my place,” he said. “Want to get some rest?”
I nodded, gathered up my clothes, and followed Lincoln back to his cottage. All the while, I couldn’t wipe the love-struck grin off my face. I could get used to being tucked under his strong arms every night.
With the tension from the day finally gone from Lincoln’s body, I listened to his slow, steady breaths as he fell asleep. I tightened my eyes, wishing this moment could stretch on forever.
