Page 90 of Roses in Summer

“Is that supposed to make me feel good about myself?” I raise a brow, snorting at his words.

“Fuck yes, it is. You’re beauty and strength and fucking perfection. You’re not a delicate, wilting flower. You’re stronger than that, tougher. Never fucking forget it.” He stops to pick up a stuffed rabbit at the end of my bed. “Cute,” he muses before tossing it back down. “Go to bed, Seraphina. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Lincoln grabs the pillow and blanket on the floor, spreading it out before lying on top. He must be uncomfortable, and my guilt takes over.

“Please lie in bed, Lincoln.”

“No.”

Exhaling heavily, I sit up in bed and look down at him. “I’m not going to be able to sleep with you on the floor.”

“Close your eyes and try.”

“No.”

“Seraphina,” he growls, the exasperation evident in his voice. “Go to sleep.”

“Look.” I turn my body and start gathering pillows. “I’ll make a pillow wall. You won’t even have to touch me. Please?”

For a minute, he remains silent, and I’m convinced that he’s thinking of another way to deny me. But instead, he concedes. “Fine, but stay on your damn side, Seraphina.” Lincoln stands from his place on the floor and walks around my bed, careful to leave a wide berth between us as he climbs into the other side of the bed. “I’m serious, ciern. Stay on your side because I’m not touching you tonight.”

I nod against my pillow, pulling the blanket up to my chin. “Okay.”

“Sleep, Seraphina. We’ll talk in the morning.”

34

Lincoln

Hard pressure on my back brings me back to consciousness while the soft snores breathed against my neck give me clarity as to where I am: cocooned in Seraphina’s bed with the little thorn wrapped around me like a life preserver.

More accurately, she’s attempting to big-spoon me.

“So much for staying on your side, ciern,” I whisper as I move from her hold, turning to my back so that I can see her better. Early morning light streams in from the window across from the bed, giving me an unobstructed view of Seraphina’s smooth, olive skin and dark lashes. Remnants of smeared makeup are on her cheeks and beneath her eyes, but I have no doubt that the rest of her paint is on the back of my shirt, where she apparently snuggled against me all night.

I can think in the silence. Like a reel, the words she whispered last night about Mitch come crashing back, and my anger starts to form again, surging to the surface like a vile, tangible thing. How fucking dare he approach her and force her to relive the worst moments of her life. I know there’s more she isn’t telling me, and while part of me wants to respect her privacy and let her keep her secrets—

Okay, who the fuck am I kidding? No part of me wants to respect her privacy on this. I want to protect her and make sure that nothing harms her again.

Lifting my hand, I let my fingers play over the strands covering her cheek before pushing them back. She’s so damn beautiful it hurts.

“I can feel you staring at me,” Seraphina mumbles, turning her face into the pillow as she speaks. “What time is it?”

I snort at her display. “Early. Probably six, six thirty.”

“Ugh. Go back to sleep.”

I roll my eyes at her whining and rip the covers from her body, reveling in the goosebumps that break out along her bare legs. There was a pillow barrier between us, but somehow, Seraphina tossed all the lush fabric onto the floor, and now, nothing separates her body from mine.

“No, don’t do that,” she complains, reaching down for the blanket I moved just out of reach. “Lincoln!”

“How do you feel, ciern?”

“Cold and annoyed to be awake.”

“You know what I mean.”

She huffs and sits up, pushing aside my arm to reach for the comforter. Bringing it over her legs, she stares down at me with the cutest damn scowl. “I’m fine. I didn’t drink much, but it hit me all at once.” She shrugs, looking at her hands before she continues, “I was upset last night.”

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