Page 26 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

The space between us feels charged, an invisible pull that I can feel in my bones. My mouth’s dry. I swallow, almost painfully, but my lips betray me as they instinctively part, taking in the sight of him. He’s so fucking beautiful, it’s almost painful to look at.

His eyebrows raise slightly, his lips curling into something like amusement, and I realize, to my horror, that I’ve said that out loud. I want to die.

“I could say the same about you.”

My breath catches in my throat as he takes a step closer. His gaze never leaves mine, the weight of it pressing on me, making it impossible to look anywhere else. My chest rises and falls with every shallow breath and, suddenly, it feels like there’s not enough air in the room.

Just a taste. My pulse thrums in my ears, the ache between my legs undeniable. It’s too much now, his warmth wrapping around me. I want him. I ache for him.

He’s standing so close now, toe to toe, the heat of his body radiating toward me, and my skin hums in response.

His fingers graze my cheek so gently, I feel it like a jolt to my system.

Slowly, as if testing the limits, his hand slides under my chin, tilting my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“What woke you up?” he whispers, but it lands like a command.

I swallow, my throat tight with something I can’t name. “Just a nightmare. Nothing. Really. Just my stupid past.”

The words are a lie, but I can’t seem to stop them from spilling out.

I keep my eyes on him, feeling the soft burn of his fingers as they trail down the length of my throat, brushing over the skin beneath the neck of my t-shirt.

The feeling spreads throughout my body, tightening my chest, my breath hitching.

I wish I was wearing his t-shirt , I think, my body betraying me with the thought.

“Maybe I should give one to you,” he says, with an edge I can’t quite place.

God, what is he doing to me?

He’s still holding my chin, his thumb now brushing over my pulse. I can’t stop myself from shuddering. His touch is like fire, gentle but scorching, like he’s mapping out every inch of me.

I breathe in. But it feels like I’m suffocating.

I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. I don’t have the strength to fight it, but I know I should. The words are there, on the tip of my tongue, but they won’t come.

He teases, leaning in, just close enough that I can feel his breath on my skin.

“You want me.”

I nod; a silent admission. And that’s the moment it breaks everything I’ve held back, every little piece of control I had slipping away. I want him, all of him. And he knows it.

“I've always wanted you.”

My eyes close as he continues spilling words I’ve been desperate to hear. “I've wanted you since that party. Do you know how hard it was to push you away?”

“Are you gonna push me away now?” I breathe out a challenge, desperately wanting him to prove me wrong.

“Fuck no, I've wanted you for too long.”

And then, his lips are on mine, taking my breath away. It’s a violent rush of teeth, lips, and tongue as we immediately consume each other. “Fuck,” he mumbles into my mouth between kisses.

I should stop… This is going to be messy in the morning, but worse, I’ll be left heartbroken when he admits he made a mistake.

But my mind replays the words I've craved for years. I've wanted you since that party . Do you know how hard it was to push you away?

My core aches. I'm wet, hungry, and I can’t stop my fingers from moving across his chest, touching everything like I'll never have it again. His hot skin, soft hair, the ripples of his strong chest, I drag my fingers down each bump of muscle until I reach his boxers.

“Karley, touch me,” he commands.

“Only if you touch me too.”

His fingers skim the top of my thigh, lifting my t-shirt, and as his hand slips under my cotton thong, grazing the wet heat between my legs, I quiver.

As he sinks two fingers in, I have to really concentrate and push through the moan to touch him. My fingers slip beneath his waistband, touching his hard cock.

He groans before bringing his lips back to mine. The gentleness catches me off guard. This isn’t a calculated kiss like the chapel, but something raw that makes my legs weak and my walls begin to crumble.

I arch into his hand, craving more.

“So fucking wet,” he says.

“So hard,” I breathe.

“All for you.”

My eyes involuntarily roll back in my head and my legs wobble. I’m struggling to hold myself up as my orgasm builds. I grip his shoulders with one hand and stroke him with the other. He's growing thicker in my hands. I feel pre-cum on my fingers, so I use it to rub him.

He jerks in my hand. “Fuck, yes.”

His two fingers inside me move faster, rubbing along my front wall. I gasp for air as I almost beg for him to let me go when he says more words I’ve been dying to hear.

“Come for me,” he demands. “Give yourself to me. I’ll look after you.”

My back lifts as the orgasm washes over me, and I cry out, hearing him call me beautiful.

The next morning, after an eventful night of wet dreaming, my hand reaches out to the nightstand, where something catches my eye.

A paper bag, a coffee cup, and a folded note.

The coffee is still warm when I take a sip.

Inside the bag is a bagel sandwich wrapped in foil.

I unfold the note and can’t help but smile.

Brought you breakfast. Hubby xo

My cheeks warm at the signature.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of classes and avoiding Evelyn’s questions.

“You look different,” she kept saying, studying my face. “Something happened.”

I told her about the new living arrangements, the house, and cars. The subtle touches and long looks replayed in my mind all day. By afternoon, I’m exhausted from pretending they hadn’t shaken me.

Now back at Oliver’s, I open the cupboard and look inside to find something to make for dinner. I scrunch up my nose, disgusted as I pick up something that has the word “fermented” written on it.

The air shifts behind me, and I know it’s him before he speaks. “I don’t hide dead bodies in there.”

I snort, pulling back out of the cupboard to glance over my shoulder, spearing him with a look. My pulse quickens at the sight of him still in his work clothes. Dark pants, a white shirt buttoned down with the sleeves rolled up. “I’m not looking for your dirty secrets. I'm looking for food.”

He steps closer. I straighten, suddenly aware of how small the kitchen feels with him in it.

“There’re heaps of food.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Is that why you left me a store-bought breakfast bagel sandwich and a coffee?”

He opens and closes his mouth as his eyes dance with amusement.

“I’ll head to the store. Is there anything in particular you want for dinner?” I ask, smiling as I close the pantry door.

He tilts his head with a deep scowl. “What food do you need?”

I shrug. “Normal things, like pasta, cereal, milk, fish, rice, and snacks.”

His eyes flick to the closed cupboard, then back to me. “I have that.”

“It’s okay. I want to grab a few other things anyway.” I brush past him to my purse. He doesn’t move, so my body skims his.

“I’ll come with you.”

I wave him off as I sling the bag on my shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll be back shortly.”

I don’t need to spend more alone time with him. The sexy dream I had of him last night is enough to tell me I need some space. He’s clearly getting in my head.

“No, I've got nothing else to do.”

Really? I suck in a breath as he grabs his keys and gives me no choice, heading to his Aston Martin.

“How was your day?” he asks, breaking the silence as he opens the door, holding it open for me to climb in.

“Good,” I answer automatically, like I usually do when my brother asks me, knowing he doesn’t really want to know; he just feels the need to ask, to make sure nothing bad happened.

He closes the door as I buckle in, and he climbs into the driver’s seat. “What was good about it?”

I look over at him, his eyes on the road as we drive out of his lot.

But he glances over at me with a soft expression, and it makes my stomach flutter weirdly.

“It was fun. We had to draw the start of something, then the teacher sent us out to grab a drink. When we returned, she mixed up the canvases and told us to finish the drawing.”

The challenge of picking up where someone else left off, of finding the balance between their vision and mine, was exactly what I needed.

“That actually does sound fun. What did you draw?”

I smile as I stare out the car window, watching the people pass on the sidewalk, wondering why we didn’t walk, but also grateful I can get home and eat faster as my stomach churns in on itself. “A side-view picture of a woman.”

“Did you find out who had whose?” He parks the car in the busy parking lot.

“Yeah, we did.” Stepping out, the cool air whips around my arms, and I regret not bringing a sweater; the cami isn’t enough. I briskly walk to the entrance as he follows.

I move to the shopping cart, and he veers toward the basket.

I laugh. “We need a cart.”

His eyebrow lifts higher as he strides to me, taking the cart, our hands briefly touching and sending that spark through me again. “I thought you said we only need a few things.”

“We do, but I just like pushing a cart around,” I say as I direct him to the first aisle.

We walk side by side, my eyes scanning for things I like.

I’m a fussy eater, so I need comfort foods or meals that feel familiar.

I throw in sugary cereal, but he picks up the package, turning it to the side to read the label.

“Do you even know how to pronounce the ingredients?” He tosses it in the cart.

“Hey, be careful,” I scold, shaking my head.

He stares at the box like it’s poison. “The ingredient list is a mile long and the main ones are sugar and food dye.”

I nod proudly. “Exactly. The perfect comfort food.”

He ignores me and snatches a box off the shelf, comes back to me, and holds it out for me.

I take it, reading its ingredients, ancient grains, and flaxseed and chia clusters.