Page 39 of Lost in You

I hold his gaze for a few seconds, replaying the sound of him calling me Trin and liking it. A lot. In less than a month, I’ve gone from being annoyed by him to wanting him to ravage me.

He said he’d help with my anxiety however he could, and orgasms are scientifically proven to be relaxing.

Imagining his powerful body on top of me sends a shot of arousal coursing through me. He’s dead sexy in the looks department, but it’s everything else about him that has me wanting him so badly I can’t think about anything else.

What busted up ankle? What anxiety? All I can think about is how he looks and sounds when he comes.

“All ready for you,” he announces.

He finished filling the tub while I imagined him doing every X-rated thing I could come up with. I’m over admonishing myself about it. We’re two single, consenting adults alone in a cabin with one bed. What better way to pass the time than getting lost in each other?

I get a towel and clean clothes, my heart hammering as I build up my confidence to make the first move. He’s too much of a gentleman; it has to be me.

When I reach for the top button on the oversized flannel I’m wearing, he quickly turns his back.

“Turn back around,” I say, light-headed from nervousness.

I can do this. I’ve seen him looking at me. We both want it.

He looks over his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

My hands are working quickly now, and soon I’m down to the fourth button, cool air brushing over my skin where the shirt hangs open. Linc quickly turns his head away from me again.

“It’s okay to look,” I assure him. “I...I want you to.”

His shoulders sink. “Fuck.”

That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. Shame floods me as I pull the shirt closed again.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” he says. “I think you’re beautiful and I want you more than you know. But...”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

My skin is hot with embarrassment from my forehead to my toes. What was I thinking? Now every minute we spend together will be awkward.

“It’s Dalton.”

I furrow my brow. “My brother? Oh God. Are you guys...together?”

“Jesus, Trin. No. But he’s my best friend. He’s like a brother to me. He asked me to keep you safe, and I...don’t want to take advantage of this situation.”

This is so humiliating. Even when I’m the only woman for—how many miles? Hundreds?—he still doesn’t want me.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain.”

I allow myself to look at his back, which is tight with tension.

“I want to look. I want...hell, I want to do a lot more than look. But--”

“Stop talking!” My words come out harsher than I intended. “Please. Let’s pretend this never happened.”

His shoulders sink with a sigh. I scramble out of my clothes and into the tub, where no amount of scrubbing washes away my complete and total embarrassment over his rejection.

The one time I didn’t overthink something and let anxiety protect me from being hurt. I won’t let that happen again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lincoln

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