Page 89 of Mark & Don't Tell

“Shit,” I choke out, cringing when a few people turn to look at us.

The torture device turns off, and I hate and love it all at the same time. My body is desperate for release, but my mind is screaming that this is 1000% inappropriate to do in public.

“There’s an older pack behind you, probably in their seventies, who are looking at each other like they hung the moon. That’s love.”

“And the people over there?” I ask, nodding at a group of three.

“They’re not quite in love yet, but they’re close.”

“How did you learn all of this?”

Something dark flashes across his face—there and gone in an instant. I half wonder if I imagined it.

“My parents weren’t home much when I was a kid. I spent a lot of time watching people when I was growing up. Read a lot of books out of boredom. I developed a weird obsession with psychology and body language when I was in high school.” He looks away. “I guess I wanted to understand what people were really saying. Sometimes they’ll say one thing, but their body language says another.”

“You wanted to know the truth.”

He nods. “I try not to read people all the time, but it’s a bit of a habit.”

“It has to be useful, though. Like, can you tell when you’re dealing with someone with bad intentions at work?”

“I can usually spot that, yeah.”

“Usually? You seem pretty good at it.”

He shakes his head. “I have some blind spots. If I’m close to someone, for example.” Sighing, he stares at the ocean. “Funnily enough, I only realized that weakness this week.” A heavy sadness surrounds him, and I want to ask what happened, but I’m worried Ryan has something to do with it.

“Expecting the best from people you love isn’t a weakness,” I say instead. “So, this is kind of like your superpower, huh?”

Lincoln smiles. “I’m no superhero.”

“Mmm. I don’t know about that. You check all the boxes.”

Sliding his gaze back to me, curiosity replaces the sadness. “What boxes?”

“Handsome. Strong. Nice car.”

“Charming personality?”

“Eh, that could use some work,” I quip.

He turns on the clit teaser. “Are you being a brat?”

“Yes,” I murmur. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” The settings cycle through to the highest one, and he leaves it there, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as I grasp the arms of my seat.

Heat flashes through my entire body. I face toward the window to avoid anyone seeing the way my mouth pops open, but in the reflection, I can see Lincoln watching me. Swallowing a cry, I rock into the teaser as discreetly as I can, hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible.

I’m so close. Right at the edge of euphoria.

But it stops again, making me nearly whine in protest.

“Look at me.” That’s all I can manage to do. My fingers dig into the wooden arms of the chair, and when our gazes collide, he smirks. “You’re flushed, bunny.”

“Lincoln,” I rasp, begging for...something. Anything but being trapped between release and aching for it.

“You want to come?” he asks, voice low as he leans toward me. “You want all these people to know what I’ve done to you?” A challenge flashes in his eyes. “Remember, you can tell me to stop.”

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