Page 23 of Wicked Fury

“Hey, you. Give me that burger.” His command is pointed at a freshman who looks like he’d happily hand over his firstborn if Lincoln asked. The kid doesn’t hesitate, practically throwing the fast food at us.

“Thanks.” Lincoln is dismissive as he takes the offering. He holds it out to me, and I’m hit by the greasy, savory smell that makes my mouth water despite myself.

“Didn’t peg you for the sharing type,” I grumble, eyeing the burger like it’s a lifeline and a poisoned apple all at once.

“Haven’t you noticed that I’m full of surprises?” he replies with that infuriating smirk of his.

For a split second, I see past the bravado and the tattoos, to something that might resemble concern. But no, that can’t be right. Not from Lincoln Blackwood.

“Guess you’re not a complete Neanderthal,” I say, taking the burger with a shaky hand.

“Only partially,” he agrees, amusement lacing his voice.

“Come on, Iris, just eat the damn thing,” Lincoln growls, his voice a low rumble against my ear that sends an involuntary shiver down my spine.

“Fine,” I snap, taking a bite of the burger to shut him up. The warm grease coats my tongue, and I can’t deny the satisfaction that floods me even as I hate myself for giving in. But as I chew, I shift on his lap, a deliberate slide of my thighs against the hard planes of his, feeling the tension coil between us like a live wire.

His breath hitches, and I smirk inwardly, knowing full well the effect I have on him is just as strong as the hold he has on me. It’s dangerous and we both know it.

“Enjoying the ride, Blackwood?” My tone is pure spite laced with honey, and I feel his grip tighten on my waist in response.

“Watch it, angel,” he warns, but there’s a ragged edge to his voice that betrays his cool exterior.

“Or what?” I challenge, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark pools of intensity, and something flickers in their depths—desire, anger, possession? Definitely possession. “You’re so transparent, you know. You parade around like you own the world, but I see you, Lincoln. I see right through this little power play.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, studying me with an unwavering stare that would have someone who didn’t grow up with my father quaking.

“Admit it,” I press on, my voice dropping to a whisper that only he can hear amidst the noise of the bus and the oblivious chatter of his brothers and teammates. “You’re obsessed. With the chase, with the game, with me.”

“Is that what you think?” Lincoln’s retort is a quiet snarl, his face inches from mine. “That I’m some lovesick puppy dog trailing after your scraps?”

“Prove me wrong,” I bite out, our lips dangerously close now. It’s reckless, this game we’re playing, but I can’t stop. Won’t stop.

The air between us is electric, charged with the unsaid and the undone.

“Careful, Iris,” he whispers, his breath hot on my skin, “you might just get what you’re asking for.”

Chapter 9

Lincoln

Ican’t ignore the fire in Iris’ eyes as we stride into the hotel lobby. The way she’s looking at me cuts sharper than the late fall chill outside. “You had no right to force me on this trip,” she hisses, her chestnut waves bouncing with every jab of her finger toward my chest.

“Come on, angel,” I drawl. “The bus ride was a mere formality.” I saunter up to the front desk, my arm brushing against hers, and I feel the shiver course through my pretty little obsession.

“Lincoln Blackwood,” I announce to the receptionist, throwing down a credit card with practiced ease. The tightness in her smirk tells me she knows who I am. Quarterback charm gets me far… “One room.”

“One?” Iris’s tone could cut through steel. “You’re delusional if you think?—”

“Already booked, babe.” I barely glance back at her, all dismissive grins and careless shrugs as she fumes. “Not spending extra cash when I’ve got a perfectly good bed for two.”

“Like hell I’m sharing with you!”

Her indignation buzzes in my ears, but I tune it out.

“Fine, I’ll pay for my own room,” she retorts, reaching for her bag with a defiance that would be admirable if it weren’t so damn futile.

“Hey,” I bark, the command sharp as I grip her wrist. “You’re with me.”

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