Page 113 of Roses in Summer

I squirm against him at the contact, nearly breathless, as I try to put distance between us. “Lincoln.”

His hold tightens, pressing me more firmly against his body while my legs dangle over his thighs. “Seraphina,” he mimics my tone.

“Will both of you be quiet or go to her room?”

I bite down on my lip at Liv’s reproach, sinking into Lincoln’s body as he shakes his head at my best friend. Reaching down, I pinch his thigh to bring his attention back to me. “Be quiet,” I mouth when his eyes settle on my face, earning me an eye roll and his hand flexing against where it rests on my outer thigh.

Despite his display, his eyes stay on the screen in front of us just in time for Freddy to be dragged out of the dream realm and into the real world. I keep my eyes focused on the movie, but every part of my body is aware of Lincoln—from his thighs beneath mine to his breath on my neck, I am enveloped by him. It’s like feeling safe, yet a trickle of danger seeps in, adrenaline and spice in an otherwise innocuous situation. It’s heady and all-encompassing, and I’d be a fool not to enjoy this very normal moment, watching a movie with my best friend and family while the boy who’s resurrected me cocoons me in his warmth.

I let my body relax, falling further into him while fire erupts in front of us.

42

Lincoln

I didn’t pay attention to a single scene of that god-awful movie. How could I when Seraphina’s body is pressed against mine like a stamp, and I’m unable to do anything other than hold her? Which, in and of itself, is a damn delight, but after knowing how she feels when she’s squirming for me, it’s hard to keep things innocent.

Especially when she gave me a fucking heart attack with that little stunt of turning off her phone because her friend was annoyed by Bianca and Seraphina’s usage.

Of all the dumb shit I’ve heard and done, that may be amongst the highest-rated given the fact not one but two assholes from Seraphina’s past have reemerged, and the last thing she should be is unreachable.

Or unable to call for someone.

Even now, with her sleeping body resting like a dead weight against me, I can’t help but shudder at the “what if” scenarios that ran through my head three hours ago.

All around us, heavy lids droop and scowls remain as Olivia and Rafe seem to have some weird-as-fuck silent stare-off going on, and Ava snores loudly against Grey’s chest.

Nodding at both men, I turn to Olivia. “We’re heading to her room. You good out here?” Bianca disappeared into her room at the beginning of the second movie, citing a disgust for hockey masks as the culprit once Jason’s character popped up on the screen.

“Of course I’m okay.”

“Okay, then,” I mutter, rising to my feet and adjusting Seraphina’s petite body in my arms. It’s no surprise that she fits against me so perfectly. I realized it the first night I held her, but there’s a pervasive pleasure in being able to carry her in front of people, silently declaring to the world that I’m here to protect her and to back the fuck up.

My strides are long, and I eat the distance from the living room to her tiny bedroom, not stopping until I’m tucking her into the center of the bed and crawling in after her once my jeans and T-shirt are off.

Pulling the covers tight around us, I gather Seraphina in my arms and align our bodies, keeping her back flush to my chest as I inhale the lemony scent of her shampoo.

“Lincoln?” Seraphina mumbles, voice drunk on exhaustion. She tries to move, presumably to shift around to face me, but I still her movements with a squeeze to her upper thigh.

“Sleep, ciern. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

My words act as a lullaby, pulling Seraphina back to sleep. I allow myself a few minutes to watch the flutter of her lashes and the rise and fall of her chest before I follow her into oblivion.

—

“Are you awake?” a soft voice whispers into my ear, jolting me from the semiconscious place I found myself in. My eyes open slowly, adjusting to the dim morning light coming from the window. My arm is pinned beneath Seraphina, and the feeling of pins and needles travels up my limb. I make no effort to move my arm and instead reach over my body to pull her on top of me.

“I am now.” My voice is rough with sleep, and I clear my throat. “Want to talk about last night?”

“Not particularly,” she comments, playing with the hair on my chest.

“Want to talk about it anyway?”

She pulls on the hair lightly before meeting my gaze. “I’m sorry my phone was off last night. It was a stupid thing to agree to.”

I’m shaking my head before she even finishes her apology. “I’m not asking you to apologize, ciern. It’s your phone, you can do what you want, but shit like that, being inaccessible to everyone, especially when you’ve got not one but two assholes roaming around this town, isn’t smart. When no one could get in touch with you, I had a flashback to when Ava was attacked by Felicity, and I fucking panicked. I held off on calling your parents solely because I knew Rafe has the resources to uncover shit faster than anyone else we know, and I didn’t want to alarm anyone until I knew what we were dealing with.

“Walking into your apartment and seeing your pretty face covered in green made me feel relieved but so fucking angry. Not at you,” I hasten to add, lifting the arm that’s now regained feeling and cupping the back of her head. “I’m angry about the situation, knowing that there’s a very legitimate reason for us to be concerned. And when none of you were accessible, that possibility was brought to the forefront.”

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