Page 54 of Where We Found Our Home
We’re walking arm in arm after lunch, but I’m stopped short when I look across the street and see a face I hoped never to see again. There’s no mistaking the coldness in those eyes. I jump away from Lincoln and stumble backward but barely catch myself before I hit the ground. Lincoln grabs my elbow to steady me, but I snatch my arm away from him. I can’t have him touching me right now. My skin feels like a thousand needles, I’m so on edge. The man I saw is nowhere to be found.
Did I imagine that?No. I know what I saw.
Do you?Fuck. I…I have to go. I need to get out of here.
“Ciara, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Lincoln’s eyes are wide with concern.
“I’m fine. I have to go.” I don’t even recognize my own voice. I sound so meek. So soft. I hate myself for it. My throat feels like it’s closing. My chest feels heavy, like an elephant’s sitting on it.
“Wait, talk to me.” He reaches for me again, but I back away. To the outside world, I look like I’m having a full-on panic attack, and I am. I am not okay. I can’t even bring myself to look at Lincoln right now. I don’t want to see the pity there.
“I have to go. I’m sorry.” I turn and run as fast as I can. I run inside a clothing store, and the cashier looks uncomfortable with my presence. I can’t blame him; I look shady as fuck standing by the door looking outside. He doesn’t approach me though, and that’s a good thing because I don’t think I even have the ability to speak right now. I stand in the store’s window until the Uber I called pulls up.
When I get to my building, I run up all six flights of steps and don’t stop until I’m inside my apartment. I rush through my security checks and sit on my couch, knife in hand. I sit on my other hand in an attempt to stop the trembling, but it doesn’t work.
I’ve missed four calls and three texts from Lincoln.
Lincoln: What happened back there? Are you okay?
Lincoln: You’re scaring me.
Lincoln: Please just tell me you’re somewhere safe.
I let out a deep sigh. I have to deal with this.
Me: Yeah I’m okay. I’m home.
Lincoln: Can I come to you?
I’m torn between ignoring him and telling him I need him and to come over.
You need to make a choice. Are you willing to take the risk to have Lincoln close to you?
He has to know. If I really saw Eddie, then he needs to know what I’ve done. The danger I’ve put him and his family in. Even if I decide to leave town, they still need to be vigilant. I send the text before I can chicken out.
Me: Please do.
Moments later, he’s knocking on my door. I wonder if he had been outside waiting for me to respond to his text or if he just broke a million traffic laws to get to me. When I let Lincoln inside, his eyes track to the knife sitting on the coffee table and back to my eyes. He caresses my face with his hand.
This may be selfish. But I don’t know how this conversation is going to go, and if this is the last time we’ll be together like this, I want to have him completely.
I lean into his touch and kiss the palm of his hand. “Please. No talking yet. I just…I need you.” He searches my eyes, and I don’t know if he finds the answers he’s looking for, but he nods and grabs my hand, leading me to my bedroom.
He kisses me deeply and then trails his kisses down my throat while pushing my shirt off my shoulders. He trails his fingers down my tattoos, letting me know with his gentle touch that he accepts me completely, and my heart bursts for him.
He sucks on my puckered nipple through my bra, and the thrill of the feeling has me ripping the cups down to give him more access. He helps me shove his pants down his legs, all while releasing my nipple with a pop before switching to the other one. He sits on the edge of the bed and in one swift motion, he shifts us so I’m straddling him and hands me the condom. He knows I need control right now without me saying anything. I stroke him a few times, letting his soft grunts guide me. I look directly in his eyes as I sheath him with the condom, and the look there makes me fall a little deeper for him. He lifts my hips and lines his cock up against my entrance. I take him in inch by inch until I’m fully seated, never taking my eyes off his. My hips start to move, and I bury my face in his neck.
I don’t even realize I’ve started silently crying until Lincoln lifts my face and kisses my tears away. He looks at me, a question in his eyes. I give him a nod, and he takes control of our pace. He flips me onto my back and kisses me passionately.
“I’m here, Angel.”
Angel. He doesn’t know how much I needed to hear that. I have no idea why he chose the nickname Angel for me. I’m not an angel. The things I’ve seen. The things I’ve been through. I’m too damaged to be an angel. I’m so close to the side of the devil I can feel the flames of hell nipping at my feet, but God, with him I feel like I could be one. This is different than any other time we’ve had sex. We’ve always been this passionate, and we’ve always had fun in the bedroom, but this is more than lust and this is anything but funny. This is healing.
“Lincoln!” I scream his name as I come undone, and he joins me a moment later.
He gets up and runs to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and runs back to bed as fast as possible. As if he doesn’t want me out of his sight for a moment. He crawls under the covers and pulls me against his chest, rubbing his hand up and down my tattooed arm. I know he has felt the scars under my tattoo, but he’s never asked about them—a fact I’m grateful for, but I need to address everything now. I take a deep breath. “Okay, go ahead.”
“Go ahead what?”
