Page 35 of Taking What's Mine

It’s soft at first—cautious, testing. His lips are warm, slightly parted, and I can taste the mint from his toothpaste. My eyes flutter shut as a wave of desire surges through my chest. I press closer, letting my free hand drift up to grip the lapel of his jacket. It’s an anchor, something to hold onto as I melt into the moment.

Lincoln groans low in his throat, and that single sound knocks my pulse into overdrive. He slides one arm around my waist, drawing me flush against him, and the delicate press of his mouth becomes something more insistent. The second our bodies connect, sparks dance along my skin. With a trembling sigh, I open my mouth for him, feeling the slow sweep of his tongue.

My head swims, drowning in the heady mix of his taste, his touch. It’s not a desperate kiss—more like a slow bloom of longing, a pent-up tension finally unfurling. When he angles hishead a bit more, deepening the kiss, I let out a muffled whimper, meeting his intensity. It’s a dance: he leads, I follow, then I lead, and he responds, each movement sending another wave of warmth through my veins.

Time seems to suspend. There’s only the low hum of the overhead light, the soft rustle of my dress as I shift against him, and the thunder of our heartbeats echoing each other. My hand skims up the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. His breath catches against my lips, and he tightens his hold on my waist, pulling me so close I can feel every ripple of muscle beneath that suit.

He feels so good.

Eventually, the need for air forces us apart. I draw back first, panting, my lips tingling. For a moment, I don’t dare open my eyes, just trying to catch my breath and calm the wild swirl of emotions. When I do peek up at him, his gaze is heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling in rapid succession. If the mission was to appear as a couple deeply in love, well… we’ve just nailed the audition.

“Wow,” I breathe, the single syllable trembling.

“Yeah,” he echoes, voice thick with astonishment. He clears his throat, stepping back an inch—not enough to tear away entirely, but enough to let the air move between us again. “That was… uh, good practice.”

A half-laugh escapes me, despite the lingering haze of desire. “Good practice,” I echo. “So, if we have to kiss at the club?—”

“I think we’ll manage.” His lips curve in a wry smile, though his eyes still blaze with that same intensity that I feel thrummingin my chest. “We should probably go, though. Don’t want to be late.”

I swallow, nodding, though my mind is reeling with the sense that I might’ve just awakened something we can’t easily put back to sleep. “Right. Let’s do it.”

He reaches for my hand as we leave the room, guiding me through the hallway and into the safe house’s living room. Our bags are packed with everything we might need for the night—phone, a discreet earpiece for emergency communication, a small cosmetic kit with an ID if needed, and, of course, that adult toy we decided to bring in case we’re subjected to a search. My gut clenches at the thought of that, but I square my shoulders. This is what we came here to do.

I slip on my heels, and Lincoln helps me with my coat. The night outside is dark, the last streaks of purple sky now replaced by inky black. A scattering of stars peeks through the pine trees, but there’s no moon tonight, leaving the safe house yard in shadow.

We step out onto the porch, the chill of the air hitting me immediately and doing little to cool the heat still coursing through my body. Lincoln locks the door behind us, then offers his arm in a gentlemanly gesture. I loop mine through his, and we walk to the SUV parked nearby. The quiet rustle of leaves underfoot and the distant call of a night bird feel oddly serene compared to the maelstrom of emotions inside me.

In the car, as we buckle our seatbelts, I sneak a glance at him, noticing the faint flush still coloring his neck. It brings a soft smile to my face, a reminder that I’m not the only one affected by that kiss. He catches me looking and gives a reassuring nod, like he’s silently saying,We’re in this together.

The engine roars to life, and we pull onto the dark highway leading away from the safe house. The glow of the headlights cuts through the night, illuminating a narrow path ahead. Neither of us speaks at first, the tension palpable. We’ve spent days preparing for this moment, but the reality is suddenly more daunting than all our practice sessions combined. The memory of that scorching kiss earlier also refuses to leave my mind, pulsing with an intoxicating mix of excitement and dread.

Eventually, Lincoln breaks the silence. “How are you holding up?”

My fingers curl against the smooth leather of the seat. “Nervous,” I admit. “Not just about the party. That kiss…” I trail off, not sure how to put my feelings into words.

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles white in the reflection of the dash. “I know. Me too. But we’ll figure it out. One thing at a time, right?”

“Right,” I say softly, letting out a slow breath. “One thing at a time.”

The highway stretches on, and we drive in near-silence, the hum of the engine and the faint roar of wind around the car acting as our soundtrack. My eyes dart to the clock on the dashboard. We’re supposed to arrive by nine, and it’s a little after eight-thirty now. Perfect timing—enough to get in without seeming too eager or too late.

I remember the last time we were at Club Greed—the pounding music, the swirling lights, and the undercurrent of secrecy that laced every interaction. This party is rumored to be even more exclusive. My stomach flips. If someone decides we’re not whowe say we are, we could lose our one chance at confronting Rolfe—or worse, put ourselves in real danger.

Still, I can’t deny the thrill that courses through me. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s the aftertaste of that kiss. Whatever it is, it’s making me feel more alive than I have in years. I sneak another glance at Lincoln’s profile—strong jaw, set lips, gaze fixed on the road. He looks every bit the capable protector, and yet, beneath that stoic exterior, I’ve glimpsed a passion that rivals my own. The memory of his lips pressed to mine sends a shiver down my spine.

And honestly, I can’t wait to kiss him again. I hope everyone at the club asks us to prove we’re a real couple, so I can kiss this man all night long. That’s silly, right? I mean, that kiss was magnetic, but I shouldn’t want more. Lincoln’s a friend, a co-worker. Not boyfriend material. Right?

We take the final exit, the car’s headlights carving out a path through an industrial area. The sign for Club Greed emerges. Lincoln turns onto a side street that leads to a valet station, and already I can sense the shift in atmosphere. High-end cars are lined up, chauffeured by men in sharp suits and women wearing dresses that make mine look tame. My heart picks up pace again.

As we pull up, Lincoln cuts the engine and casts me a quick, determined look. “This is it.”

I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Here goes nothing.”

He steps out of the SUV first, handing the keys to the valet, then circles around to open my door. The gesture is so gentlemanly it makes my stomach flutter. I take his hand, letting him help me out. My heels click on the pavement, and I smooth down mydress, the air tingling with the muted thrum of bass from inside the club.

He slides an arm around my waist, pulling me close. It’s a move that feels shockingly natural now, like we’re slipping into the roles we’ve spent all week rehearsing. My heart stutters at how easily I nestle into his side, how my hand seems to find his lapel without hesitation.

We approach the velvet rope, where a poised hostess checks our names on an iPad in her hands. “Mr. Zane,” she says with a polite nod, glancing at me. “Mrs. Zane. Welcome back.”

---