It hit me then that the bed was likely a mess from our time together, and I let out a groan as I walked toward the door. I quickly pulled to a stop at the threshold, though. Lincoln was reclined on the freshly made bed, propped against the headboard, as he read a book shirtless. His head craned to look at me knowingly, and I shuffled from foot to foot under the weight of his gaze. I took care of the clean-up, Princess. Come to bed.
BROOOOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
