Page 30 of Lost in the Moonlight

After several long moments, I finally broke our gaze, and as I did so, my eyes landed on the clock. I was late. Again. I pushed away from the counter, reached for the scrunchie on my wrist, and tied my braid up in a knot before reaching for one of the plastic caps. Lincoln watched my every move, and my already furiously pounding heart twitched and twirled as if in anticipation of a favored treat.

“I have to start the scones,” I said.

I hadn’t heard him move, but he was suddenly there, grabbing my hand, tugging it into his, and placing it on his chest. Warmth crept through my fingertips, flashing down my wrist to my elbow before easing along my shoulder and lodging deep in my chest. The erratic rhythm inside me grew stronger. Louder. Faster.

He nudged my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His thumb gently stroked my jawline. Flames leaped inside me even as my natural preservation instincts screamed at the danger he posed.

My eyes fell to his mouth. Strongly shaped, gorgeous lips that I’d bet were strong and firm. Demanding like his words. Fierce.Lincoln would never be happy with someone simply accepting his touch. He’d want them to participate. To meet him equally. To actively engage in every single act and motion.

The handful of kisses I’d had over the years had been mere whispers of skin on skin. I’d witnessed them as if a third party, detached but curious. The men—no, the boys—I’d let that close had felt my lack of interest. They’d felt it and ran. For a brief moment with Chad, I’d thought it could be stoked into something more, but then he’d vanished at the first hurdle.

“Who hurt you, Willow?” Lincoln asked with so much tenderness it brought a sudden rush of tears to my eyes. I didn’t cry. Not anymore. And yet, the gentleness of his words made it hard to fight them off as he continued, “Who left the wounds you so bravely hide?”

I blinked rapidly, desperate to hold back the onslaught. The speed at which he’d switched gears, going from talk of art and baked goods to things I couldn’t discuss, unwound more of my strings. My world spun, and I barely caught my balance.

“Lincoln…” I shook my head, trying to remove his hand, but his fingers gripped my chin harder, refusing to let go.

“Don’t. Don’t tell me to leave or that I have no right to know. Just tell me the damn truth.”

I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t be forced to look at the intensity in his. I needed him to back down before he slid past my defenses and I spilled everything. I raised my hand to his wrist and tugged, trying to dislodge him once again, and when it didn’t work, I looked up at him and answered with my own challenge. “Who left the scars on you? The ones that cling like a Grim Reaper to you?”

He dropped me like I’d burned him.

We stared at each other for another long moment, the air tense and heated with want and hope and fear. I shook my head, turned away, and washed my hands before breaking the silence. “We’ve known each other for twenty-four hours. You don’t get to demand I tell you anything about my life, especially when you have no intention of sharing anything about yours. You may be used to getting your way. You may be used to thrusting around the power that comes with being the president’s son, but that won’t work with me. It’s for the best if you just leave.”

The words were true but also sharp and harsh. After grabbing a clean towel to dry my hands, I dared to look up, and I saw my words had hit home. It tore at me that I’d hurt him. The last thing I wanted to do was cause more pain to this beautifully protective man who carried his wounds like a penance he was paying. But I desperately needed him to back off before I crumbled and gave him everything. I swallowed the apology that automatically rose, knowing it was better to let the words stand as they were in order to grow the chasm between us rather than shrink it.

There was no other choice. It was just too risky to continue.

Chapter Eleven

Lincoln

CORNERS

Performed by The Fray

Her barb landed home with asurprising bite that left a new mark on my soul already littered with them. Iwasused to people answering me, cowing to me, bending over backward to give me what I wanted. But what she couldn’t know was that I’d never requested it and was often disgusted by it. The simple fact she wasn’t willing to cave in to my demands drew me to her more.

As I watched her throat bob and her shoulders straighten in determination, I realized she wasn’t all but begging me to leave because she didn’t want me there, just like she wasn’t declining to tell me her secrets because she didn’t want to share them. In fact, when I looked into her eyes, when I touched her, I saw the opposite—the longing to unburden herself.

But something—someone—was stopping her.

Cold fury washed over me at the thought of not only Poco, but some other asshole who’d hurt her, jerking her around, causing her to live in fear, and living some half-life.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure I could leave like she asked. It was more than just wanting to protect some random woman in danger. And it was more than me being intrigued by the complexities I saw—the cheerfulness layered over grief. It was that damn string that had knotted itself around me and all but choked me as I’d left her house yesterday. The string that was still there, tethering me to her. Binding me. I couldn’t walk away and leave her to whatever fate Poco and her past had in store for her without it ripping new holes in me.

“If I was going to use my father’s power,” I told her, “I’d just ask the Secret Service to run a check on you. They’d know everything there was to know in less than a day.”

She ignored me, going to a large refrigerator, pulling out ingredients, and setting them on a steel counter near an enormous electric mixer. She was excellent at keeping those pretty lips sealed tight when she wanted, at keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself. I hated that someone had forced her to be this way when it was obvious, regardless of how little time I’d spent with her, that her normal inclination was to open up to everyone who even brushed along the edges of her life.

“I don’t want to learn about you from some report that gets emailed to me,” I said quietly. The truth of those words hit me with a force that almost stunned me. Maybe I hadn’t rid myself of my ghosts or completely shaken off the recent betrayals, and maybe I never would. But if I waited for all the wounds to disappear, I’d be dead. I’d miss the moment when a brave, interesting woman walked into my life, offering the possibility of something beautiful. If I left right now, like she’d asked, I’d miss out on the chance of having all her secrets and all her dreams belong to me.

And I wanted them more than I’d wanted anything in months…maybe years.

“Your safety is very important to me, Willow, but it isn’t the only reason I showed up this morning.”

She looked at me, exasperation and longing running side by side in those troubled gray eyes.

---