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Of course the hot asshole would have three hot friends. They always seem to move in packs.
He doesn’t look like he’s seen better. He looks like he wants to eat me alive.
Don’t ask me what it is about getting beaten at poker by a woman, but for some reason, it tends to make men horny. Maybe it’s just a last ditch effort to prove their masculinity, who knows.
“So maybe back the fuck off the girl who does.”
“Harlow.” That one word makes me pause. He never calls me that. He takes advantage of my momentary hesitation, letting go of my wrists and cupping my face with his large hands. “Harlow. Breathe, baby. Just breathe. Just look at me and breathe.”
His hands move up my shoulders, and one slides around the back of my neck, threading through the hair at the base of my skull, while the other traces the line of my jaw. I freeze, blinking at him as his thumb skims lightly over my lower lip. He’s staring at it, but I’m not sure he’s really seeing it. His mind seems a million miles away.
“It’ll be okay, Harlow,” he murmurs. “No one will hurt you. But you have to trust me on this.”
I never get to finish that sentence, because in two strides, Lincoln closes the distance between us and kisses me. Hard.
It’s not a sweet kiss. It’s not even a hot kiss. It’s more like a natural disaster, a tornado tearing through the landscape, destroying everything in its path and leaving the world as it once existed in ruins.
It’s fire. It’s pain. It’s need.
“Tell me to stop, Harlow.” His voice is rough as sandpaper, nearly unrecognizable. It’s nothing like the smooth, confident tenor I’ve come to expect from him. “Tell me to walk away.”
“Last chance, Low,” he murmurs.
One of his arms still holds me securely to his body, but the other reaches up to brush my hair back before sweeping down the side of my face. His knuckles trail over my jawline, and the look on his face makes my heart beat painfully hard. His expression is tender and fierce at the same time, and that’s just what it feels like when he presses his lips to mine and kisses me. Tender and fierce.
Lincoln’s amber eyes gleam as he chuckles darkly. “All right, you fucker. I get it. Now can I take her home?”
“I never fucking told you. I didn’t even want to admit it to myself. But the truth is, Low, I never hated you. I wanted you from the very first second I saw you.”
“Not yet, Low. I didn’t get to savor it last time. This time, I want to see you come undone.”
“I wasn’t done. I’m still hungry,”
“I’m good,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “I’ve never fucked anyone like this before. Never fucked raw.” Never.
