Page 92 of Roses in Summer

I feel him stop behind me seconds before his hand reaches out, trailing a single finger up my spine. The assault on my nerves is slow, a trickle of water, and I shiver in the air-conditioning as goosebumps pebble along my skin.

“I’m clean—I was tested after everything went down, but I have a condom in my wallet.”

I shake my head. “It’s been a long time for me, but I’m clean and I have an IUD.” He nods at my words, moving impossibly closer to my body.

“So fucking delicate,” he murmurs, his head descending so that his words fall against my ear. “We’ve missed out on four years, Seraphina. How will you make it up to me?”

“I—”

“No.” He punctuates the word with a bite to my earlobe, a gentle nick that surprises me more than hurts me. “I’ll tell you how you’re going to make it up to me.” His hand moves from my back to under my arm, trailing down until he grips the hem of my T-shirt. Pulling slowly, the rustle of fabric echoes in the room.

“If you’re really mine,mój maly ciern, then you’re going to let me claim every part of you. And you? You’re going to claim every part of me.”

I swallow, keeping my eyes peeled to the mirror in front of us as he works the fabric up my torso, over my head, until finally, it falls and lands in a silent thud on the floor. Lincoln hums in approval as my bare chest is revealed, using both hands to trail up my sides, over my ribs, and stopping at the underside of my breasts before his hands fall away.

He doesn’t say anything as he steps back. His eyes roam over my body quickly, gaze lit and assessing as he takes in my slight frame and barely there breasts. Self-consciousness and envy hit me. How many beautiful women has he seen? How many women with curves and bigger breasts, long legs and confidence? It’s hypocritical of me, but jealousy stabs me in the chest, and I look down, moving my gaze from his face.

“They’ve always been you, ciern. Doesn’t make it any fucking better, but in my head, it’s always been you I’m undressing. Now that it really is you, don’t hide from me.”

“Sorry,” I whisper, meeting his eyes again in the mirror. “We’ve both dated other people. It’s just—”

“I don’t want to hear about other fucking people, Seraphina. It’s you and me, okay?” I nod, both agreeing with his words and giving him permission to continue his assessment.

I’m completely naked, bared to Lincoln’s gaze, and he’s still clothed, Henley and shorts hanging from his frame. With someone else—anyone else—this would be a power imbalance. But with Lincoln’s eyes roving over my body and his hands hovering over my skin, almost like he’s dying to touch me but is holding himself back, I feel powerful.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Lincoln’s voice is low, a note of reverence in his tone. I watch as his hands approach my bare skin, sucking in a breath when contact is finally made. They rest on my stomach for a moment before one trails up while the other moves lower. His right hand makes a slow descent, not stopping until he cups me between my thighs.

“Is this mine, Seraphina?” I nod, but he tsks, lightly flexing his fingers against me. “Words, ciern.”

“Yes,” I breathe out.

His other hand rests between my breasts, fanning out so that his thumb and pinky rest just under the slight swell. “And these, are they mine?”

“Y-yes,” I stutter.

The hand on my chest moves higher, grazing over my nipple in a touch so delicate that, technically, I barely feel it. Except I feel it everywhere. My eyes flutter shut, and I can’t hold back the shudder that grips my body.

“Eyes on me, Seraphina.” My eyes snap open, instinctively giving in to his command. “There’s my girl.”

His hand stops above my left breast, lying flat against my chest and absorbing the unsteady heartbeats. “And this? Is it mine, Seraphina?”

I nod, tears welling in my eyes. “Always.”

His hand moves higher, settling at my throat and gripping it lightly. “That’s right, ciern. Your heart is fucking mine. Your body is mine. Every inhale, every exhale, is mine.” He punctuates his words while squeezing my throat, not enough to cut off my airflow, but enough to let me know he can. “And everything I am, everything I have is yours. I love you. I’ve loved you since you were eighteen. I’m not going to stop loving you. Now, tell me.”

I know what he wants to hear, the three words he’s demanding. It’s not that I don’t feel them—I feel them so acutely my body is burning. I’ve just never said them to a man before. Swallowing the last of my hesitation, I focus on his bright eyes. “I want you.”

“That’s right. You fucking wantme.” Without warning, the hand between my legs shifts. His fingers dive into my wetness, and his palm presses against my clit.

“Oh,” I choke out, my hips pressing backward into his thighs.

“Your cum is mine too. Every fucking piece of you.” The hand at my throat moves under my chin, tilting my head back so that I’m looking into his face. “And these goddamn lips.” It’s the only warning he provides before he captures my mouth, giving me barely a second to prepare. But that second is all I need.

I open for him, meeting his tongue as he invades, staking his claim on my soul as his fingers play my body. He works his hand in time to the tangle of our tongues, and before I know what’s happening, an orgasm slams into me, and I break the kiss, crying out against his mouth.

“That was fucking mine,” Lincoln growls, sealing our lips together once more. He sucks me in, taking every breath I have and swallowing my cries as my body convulses against him. He doesn’t move his mouth until my body stills, giving me one final kiss before straightening and releasing his hold on me. “Get on the bed, Seraphina.”

I follow his command, partly because I know it’ll please him but mostly because I know I’m about to receive more pleasure from him. I walk slowly, not running to the center of my bed like I want to, and sit on the comforter, legs together and back straight.

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