Page 56 of Sweet Spot
“So, you aren’t dropping me?”I ask, gliding my hands up and down his forearms, tracing the veins and enjoying his warmth and strength.
His back leans against the headboard, and I’m straddling him, knees bent underneath me.
A rough chuckle shakes his upper body, and he cradles my head and runs his hands down to rest lightly on my neck. “For what? You were amazing today.”
One eyebrow cocks with disbelief. He can’t be serious.
“Did you know you had the longest drive on every single hole today? Every single one. Not just against Mia, but in the entire tournament.”
“I didn’t, but even so, I lost. I totally fell apart. I should have placed.”
“You stopped trusting yourself. You let Potter throw you off when he told you to switch to the nine, which was a garbage call, and then you couldn’t recover. You should have trusted your instincts and smoked the wedge. You’re comfortable playing power golf and when the situations get tight you need to play to your strength. Potter should know that. It’s his whole job. Today’s loss was a coaching catastrophe. You were the best player out there.”
His words comfort me and light the fire of determination I lost earlier today. Lincoln has never fed me compliments when they weren’t deserved.
“You mean that? It isn’t just because you suddenly want to kiss me that you’re saying that?”
“Suddenly?” His brows rise as a teasing smile plays on his lips. Slowly, he shakes his head. “I’ve thought about kissing you since you all but called me a creep and tossed tequila on me.”
“Why didn’t you?”
The playfulness falls away, and I wish I could suck in the question and keep it to myself.
“The business takes a hundred percent of my time and is my top priority. Yeah, I’ve thought about kissing you, but I also considered what that would mean for the relationship we’ve built. I don’t want to mess with that or hurt you.”
“I appreciate the honesty, but I just stopped plotting your death for making me run a thousand miles, so you can stop worrying. I’m not expecting anything. I have my own life.”
Some of the tension in his body relaxes, but I can tell he isn’t convinced. I look into his dark eyes. From far away, they look brown, but up close, they’re more hazel. A myriad of beautiful, complicated colors that’s fitting for this man.
I move my hands from his arms to his amazing pecs and the steady thump of his heart under the cotton shirt to the nape of his neck. I curl my fingers into his thick hair. “Tell me again how good I was.”
His teeth glide along his bottom lip before he smirks. Slowly, he inches closer until his mouth hovers over mine. His breath tickles and heats my skin as he says, “You really have no idea how good you are, do you?” He searches my face for an answer. “Watching you play is inspiring. Being your coach and watching you see the rewards of working your ass off . . . it’s a privilege. You’re the most incredible person I know, Keira Brooks.”
I close my eyes and smile, letting those words and his nearness heal the embarrassment and frustration of my loss. They become my truth, and I cling to them.
Removing the millimeter of distance between us, I kiss him. I pour all the passion of my hopes and dreams into him, knowing that, whatever else happens between us, he’ll be the protector of those things.
Large fingers wrap around my waist on both sides. His thumbs circle at the hem of my shirt and slip under so the calloused pads run along bare skin. Those full lips leave mine only to find my neck and collarbone. His touch brings goose bumps to the surface, and we make out like two people who need connection more than air.
Moaning and tilting my head to give him better access, I’m not prepared for his words. “We should stop.”
“What?” My eyes fly open. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to wreck what we have. I like you.” His head rises slowly, kissing the sensitive skin on the way, as if he’s convincing himself with his own words while enjoying a final taste.
“Turning down sex because you like me? Well, that’s a first.”
He lifts me from his lap with a groan and places me next to him where our legs still rest against each other. “I meant what I said earlier. That wasn’t me feeding you a line or giving some bullshit excuse. I don’t have a lot to offer. I can’t be a boyfriend or even promise to be what you need tomorrow. I like and respect you too much to lead you on. I enjoy helping you and being around you. I’m not going anywhere, but there are limits to what I have to give outside of coaching.”
“I get it,” I reaffirm him. “But it’s really cruel to offer all this up”—I gesture to him and his hotness—“and then take it away. Will you at least take your shirt off?”
He chuckles and brushes my hair back from my face. I can see his resolve to take this back to G-rated. No matter what he says, I know the lines he just drew are about him, not me. I’m perfectly capable of separating sex with Lincoln from our working relationship. But fine. I mean there are lots of things Lincoln and I can do fully clothed and not touching.
I enjoy him. Our connection with golf and our desire to push ourselves gives us a lot to talk about. Though talking naked is obviously my preference.
“Fine, but can I stay in here tonight?”
He tilts his head, and I raise both hands innocently. “I only want to talk golf. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
