Page 32 of Not Like Christmas At All
Lincoln follows my instruction, pulling out almost completely before he presses into me again. As his long, fluid thrusts fill me, the sound of our skin slapping against each othercatches in the breeze. We don’t speak, but our moans tell a story of their own.
Sliding his hand further down my body, his fingers find my clit again as he rolls his hips into me relentlessly. My eyes roll back before I squeeze them shut—the world tilting on its axis as my body inches closer and closer to release.
“Gen, I—you’re—” Lincoln fumbles over his words, his fingers working me harder. “I’m close.”
Words fail me as I tumble over the edge, free falling into my orgasm before I can even tell him I’m close too. My body spasms against his, my core clenching around his shaft tightly, euphoric from how it feels inside me as I come.
“Fuck,” he slurs, his forearms slamming against the railing as he chases his own release, thrusting into me with a rough possessiveness. “You’re fucking drenching me, Gen. So. Fucking. Wet. And. Hot.”
A low, primal rumble tears from him as he stills, his forehead dropping between my shoulder blades while he catches his breath.
With a shaky laugh, I grab his hand and tangle his fingers with mine. For a moment, we’re both still, coming down from the high, until a shiver runs through me, the cold night air licking against the sheen of sweat gathered across the back of my neck.
Slowly—torturously—he withdraws from me, and I clench around air at the loss of him.
He takes a step back, and I adjust my panties and my dress.
With a nervous laugh, I turn to face him. “Well, I’d call that proving it.”
Quirking a brow, he fixes his belt buckle. “You think I’m done?”
Lincoln takes a step closer, and instinctively, I take one back. Catching my wrist, he brings my palm to his lips and presses a kiss against it.
“Aren’t you?”
His hand glides down the length of my arm before lacing our fingers together, giving me a gentle tug, guiding me back to—I assume—the party. “Not even close, Gen. I’ve got all night.” Then, with a playful grin, he adds, “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Thirteen
I’m riding cloud nine, still wrapped in Lincoln’s arms after spending the night in his bed. My hand rests on his chest as it rises and falls, the slow beat of his heart beneath my palm. He’s warm against me, keeping me cozy in his cool apartment. Lazily, he traces circles against my arm with his fingertip, occasionally pressing soft kisses against my skin.
With every touch, I find myself melting further into him, wondering how I couldn’t see straight through him before.
The central heat clicks on, filling the room with a burst of warmth. I snuggle deeper, my body molding perfectly with his. Last night felt like a dream, and I’m still completely awestruck by the turn of events.
“What do you want to do today?” Lincoln’s voice is rough with sleep. Turning onto his side, he faces me, hair tousled, eyes still heavy.
The butterflies in my stomach stir—he’s devastatingly handsome.
A smile purses my lips. “Are you asking me to spend the day with you?”
“I don’t plan on letting you go, if that’s the question,” he volleys easily.
Not only was that not the question, but his answer has me swallowing thickly, willing myself to not roll over onto him and get round four started…or would it be five?
It’s too soon to be feeling what I am—it could still be fleeting.
A holiday fling.
But God, I hope not.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask as cooly as I can muster.
“Well, I know your Christmas wasn’t exactly what you had expected. Would you like to go see the lights at the botanical garden this evening? I can buy us tickets.”
Excitement flares through me brightly, like a strand of lights being plugged in. “I’ve never been! I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”
Beaming, I sit up, turning to face him. The sheet slips from my chest, exposing me, and Lincoln's eyes drift down.
