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Lincoln Foxx is beyond handsome. A full head of dark hair, which is a luxury for most men dancing around forty. I always remembered him as more clean shaven, but now his sideburns blend into stubble. Everyone who has a pulse feels his confidence and more than recognizes that he’s the prettiest Foxx. And somehow, he’s improved. Light blue eyes behind dark-framed glasses make me want his attention even more. Why I didn’t tell him to fuck off the other night is beside me. But right now, in dad-mode and pissed off, he’s disturbingly sexy.
“Is that a knife strapped to your leg?” She quirks an eyebrow. “Did you just think I was happy to see you, Foxx?”
There are a thousand reasons why walking away is the logical choice. But I’ve done logical and expected, cavalier and thankless. Right now, I just want her. Fuck it.
“You don’t want a nice girl right now, Foxx.” “What do I want, then, hmm?” A small moan crawls up her throat as she says, “You want someone to tell you to be a good boy and do what you’re told.”
“You sound so pretty when you’re pissed off and moaning for me.” I can feel her smile before I see it.
“You’re pretty when you’re pissed off too, Foxx. Too bad I couldn’t get you to moan for me this time.”
“Believe me when I say that I’ve tried to forget. But those sounds you made . . . The way you came so beautifully for me . . .” He lets out a small laugh, and my stomach swoops. “That’s not something a man forgets.” When he moves a few inches closer, I have to suppress a shiver. “So no, I didn’t forget your name. You’re making that really fucking hard for me.”
“I know you’re watching me walk away,” I call out as I turn my head to the side. “Hard not to when you consider how much I liked watching you come,”
I’m lost to the way she touches me, how her nails dig into the back of my neck and her hips roll, the way her lips drag and tease me. I’m a slave to her mouth in this moment and the only thing I can think is that I’ll never want to stop kissing her.
And while dry humping Lincoln Foxx wasn’t on my agenda tonight, I roll my hips again.
“That’s twice now,” I whisper. “I’ve come twice with you, and you haven’t . . .”
“I very much enjoy watching you lose control,”
This isn’t what I came to town for—late night hookups and morning flirting with Lincoln fucking Foxx. So why does it feel so good? So effortless?
“That was stupidly badass, Peach.”
The way this woman kisses, her entire body participates, and everything outside of us might still exist, but it doesn’t fucking matter.
“There’s something about kissing this perfect mouth of yours that drives me wild.”
With his lips slick with my arousal and a bourbon chaser, he kisses me again. Fuck, I want more.
“You’ve ruined bourbon for me now,” he says playfully. “I hope you realize that.”
“There may never be such a thing as a great bottle of bourbon for me ever again unless I have the taste of your pussy with it.”
I want this man so badly that I’ve forgotten any reason why this is a bad idea.
“I’m going to need to fuck you now. Please tell me I can.” There’s an edge of desperation in his tone that has me smiling.
He kisses where his lips rest along my chest. “I’ll never be the same,” he mumbles in between soft kisses that have my heart stuttering. Because I can’t help but think how this just changed everything.
“Good. I don’t want you to change.” He pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. “I just wanted some clarity so I didn’t end up killing a man for touching someone who’s starting to feel like mine.”
“How do you like your bourbon?”
“Any way you want to give it to me, Foxx.”
“You’re so fucking sexy right now. Are you about to show all these people that I’m yours, Peach?”
“You make me feel like I don’t need to pretend when I’m around you. That I can be exactly who I am without being anything other than a man infatuated with a beautiful woman.”
“I’m going to need you in my mouth when you tell me I’m pretty.”
“Oh fuck,”
“You look so fucking pretty. Your lips wrapped around me so tight and that tongue isn’t missing a single inch.”
“I want to be around you. I like me more when I’m around you. So let me be around you, Peach. And we figure it out as we go along. Lean into what feels right.”
Hundreds of eyes on my girl, but that’s all they get. A show. The fantasy. It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as the real thing—worshiping this woman, tasting the way I turn her on, and rewarding her mouth and body with everything they demand.
Lincoln Foxx, looking like a fantasy, perfectly assembled in black, with a smirk painted across his lips, and dimples pinched, doing maximum damage to every pair of panties watching.
I started falling in love with Faye Calloway on the edge of a cornfield, on a stage, over a bottle of bourbon, and every time she’s been in my arms since.
Lily smiles wide. “Dad. If this is about you telling us that you love Faye, then we already know that.”
Lark, and she smiles. “You’d have to be blind not to see it, Dad. You love her, right?”
“Yeah, Lark, I do. I love her a whole lot.”
“You show up for your family and the people you care about, and that’s always been what love looks like to me. You are what love looks like to me.”
“Don’t you fucking stop, Foxx. I want to hear you moan like a man.”
With Lincoln Foxx, it feels bigger than a simple word like love. When I’m with him, it feels like home.
