Page 81 of Wicked Fury

His hand captures mine, halting its descent. “You’re not distracting me this time.” I know his lip is pulled into a smile, even if it’s too dark to see.

“Wasn’t trying to,” I lie, my tone laced with feigned innocence. He sees through it, always does. But that’s our game, isn’t it? Push and pull, a constant test of boundaries we both insist on crossing.

“Your scars...” His words are gentle but carry an edge, one that slices through the haze of lust. He places my hand over my own back, guiding it over the knotted memories etched into my skin.

“They’re just stories, Lincoln. Ugly fairytales for girls who don’t get happy endings.”

“Fuck that,” he growls, his protective fury tangible in the darkness.

I nod against his chest, feeling the rumble of his promise resonate within me. The intensity in his embrace tells me everything—Lincoln Blackwood doesn’t make empty promises.

“Say it, angel. Say you believe me when I say I won’t let him hurt you.”

“Every word,” I breathe out, surrendering to the sincerity in his voice. My heart hitches at the rawness between us, something far deeper than desire. It’s terrifying and exhilarating, a freefall into the unknown with only his arms to catch me.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s a finality to it, a vow sealed in the darkness. He shifts, rolling us until he looms above me, his silhouette outlined by the faint light. His eyes lock onto mine, fierce and unyielding. “Because I meant every damn one of them.”

The bed creaks as he moves, and when he kisses me, it’s a claiming—a devouring that leaves no room for doubts or demons. This is ours, this moment, this connection that defies all the fucked-up rules meant for us. Rules we’ve already broken.

“Lincoln...” His name is both a plea and a declaration, spilling from my lips as his mouth descends once more, obliterating thought, silencing the past with the sheer force of his presence.

“I’m right here, baby,” he murmurs against my skin, his breath hot and heavy with need. Our bodies meld together, sweat and heat fusing us into one entity driven by instinct and a hunger that can’t be sated.

Lincoln moves slowly this time, sliding in and out of me with control I didn’t realize he possessed. He’s shown me gentleness a time or two during and after sex, but this time is different.

This time, he’s taking my heart.

Chapter 34

Lincoln

The vibration on my nightstand is as sudden as the Hail Mary we had to do last season against St. Andrews. Fingers, calloused and inked, reach out to grab the phone. I flick my thumb across the screen, and Ramsey's words sear through the glass.

Rams

Got some screenshots that'll make your blood boil.

I swipe through the images attached—a string of messages, flirtatious emojis, and promises that reek of deception. My grip tightens around the phone; the urge to crush it surges through my veins, but I quash it. Can’t afford to lose control. Not yet.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter under my breath, a growl more than a word. There’s something dark festering inside, and I get up out of bed and head to my dresser, throwing on joggers and a t-shirt.

“Lincoln?” Iris’ voice, sweet as sin, floats from the bed behind me. I don’t look back; can’t afford the distraction because when I see her, all laid out like a feast, desire eclipses sense.

“Nothing to worry about, baby,” I lie without a hitch, keeping my tone light but laced with a hint of a smirk. The same one that’s gotten me both into and out of trouble more times than I care to count.

I step onto the balcony, crisp air biting at my skin, and my fingers fly over the phone’s keyboard. The message to my brothers is quick and sharp.

Meet up. Now. It's about Nicole.

“Everything alright?” Iris’ question is a whisper against the late night, but I’m already too far gone to give her more than a reassurance.

“Always,” I say, the word tasting like a promise and a threat. I will always make sure Iris is safe and alright.

I tuck the phone away and glance back into the darkness of our room, where she waits, her silhouette practically a siren call just for me. But there’ll be time for more pleasure later—right now, I’ve got a deceiver to corner and a truth to unearth.

“Keep the bed warm,” I tell her, throwing on a jacket. “I’ll be back for you.”

And with that, I slip away into the night.

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