Page 16 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
That first taste of her mouth was still burned into his memory. Hot and wet. He hadn’t had to push inside her; she’d opened voluntarily, her tongue seeking his at the same time he’d sought hers. The tangle of their bodies, their tongues, the hot surge of his desire, his cock—
“So you got rid of me.”
Her words jarred him out of the memory. “That kiss scared the hell out of me, Claire,” he finally admitted. “Because I wasn’t ready to feel anything, including simple pleasure, with anyone but Kelly. So yes, I requested your transfer.”
“And ruined my reputation in the process.”
Shock hit his gut. “What? No! I never disparaged your work, Claire. I wouldn’t.”
“You didn’t have to.” Those brown eyes stared into his, searching for the truth. He let her look. Finally, “You have no idea what happened after that.”
He frowned. “I know you graduated. I was there.”
“I remember. I also remember that it almost didn’t happen.”
“Wha— Why?”
“Because the coordinator responsible for my transfer had heard we were at odds in the classroom. When you requested that I be placed somewhere else, she decided I was hard to work with.” Claire shrugged, though he could see the hurt clear as day beneath her assumed indifference. “I figured it was you who gave her the idea. It’s what she told the restaurant I was transferred to, to complete my internship. And the restaurants who inquired about me when I applied for positions after graduation.”
A growl escaped his tight throat.
“You sabotaged my career.” The sound she made was more sarcasm than amusement, and he didn’t blame her. “No one would hire me after the great Lincoln Young was so dissatisfied with my work that he had to get rid of me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, pain shafting through him. His star had risen too fast, and she was right—not being able to work with someone that well-known would have been a black mark against her no matter what explanation he gave. He’d simply been so wrapped up in his own world that he hadn’t considered it. And he’d been so afraid of the temptation she represented to him that he had refused to follow up on her, follow her career from then on. No, he hadn’t seen or heard about her in New York, but he simply assumed she’d placed somewhere else, maybe DC or California or Paris.
Fuck. No wonder she hated him.
“Claire.” He opened his eyes to stare down at her, forced himself to breathe until he could get words past the gravel clogging his throat. “I cannot tell you how deeply sorry I am. That was never what I intended. I was only trying to protect myself from my own emotions, not from anything you did or said, or could have done or said. It was all me.”
“And yet I’m the one who paid the consequences.”
“I wish I could go back and change that.” God, did he. He’d never forgive himself for what he’d done. Searching desperately for something to say to make things right, all he could come up with was, “I’m so sorry.”
When she didn’t speak, he stood and gathered their dishes of half-eaten dessert. She remained silent while he cleaned up, packed things back into the basket, and then turned to face her. Planting his fists on the bar, he stared into her sweet brown eyes.
“I might have been able to forget how I felt about you all these years, but the moment I saw you again, I knew—it never went away. I would give anything for a chance to explore that, Claire. I understand why you can’t forgive me, but—” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I get it.”
He gathered his things and headed for the door.
“How could I even consider going any further with this?” she asked behind him, startling him into stillness. “What would happen at the restaurant? My store at the resort? What happens if you run scared again, Lincoln? Do I get to pay the consequences?”
He jerked around to face her. “No! Hell, no.”
She searched his face. “Why would I risk trusting you again?”
The sheer fact that she’d asked the question stunned him, not because her trust had been broken—it had—but because he couldn’t fathom her even considering it.
He set the basket on the floor and eased closer to her, giving himself time to think his answer through, determined to get this as right as he could. “I will never, ever allow what happened back then to happen again, ever.” A step closer. “Tell me no. Tell me to go to hell. I don’t care.” He stuttered to a stop. “Scratch that. I care very much, but…” He dared to place his hands on her bare arms, absorbing the chill of her skin, sharing his warmth. “I promise you, Claire, I will never let you pay for my mistakes again. Or my choices. I want, so desperately, to know you, to explore what I wouldn’t allow myself to explore all those years ago. But whatever you decide, whatever you want to do, everything else is safe. I will guarantee that.”
He only prayed she could find it in her heart to believe him after the absolute shitshow he’d made of the last time.
Claire stared up at him, uncertainty in the crease in her brow, the purse of her lips. “I don’t know, Lincoln. Yes, there’s an attraction between us, there always has been, but do I want to risk going there with you? Do I trust you enough to believe I’m not putting my future at risk all over again? I just don’t know.”
He absorbed the blow silently, knowing it was no more than everything he deserved. “Okay.” Gathering his basket, he turned to head out. When he got to the door, he turned to find Claire on his heels. His gaze was drawn immediately to her lips, caught in her teeth as she watched him leave.
His cock hardened as if she’d stroked it. That was all, just the sight of her biting her lip, and he ached with a hunger that was only for this woman. No other. He wanted to take her, to feel her, physically and emotionally, and it was killing him to walk away.
That’s when he knew, as justified as her feelings were, he couldn’t lie down without a fight. He was Lincoln Young, after all.
