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Me: I am ALL IN. Get that sweet little ass of yours over here NOW.
She sends me the red face panting emoji, and I chuckle at my phone.
And then I wait.
CHAPTER 5: JOLENE
I park Sam’s car in Lincoln’s driveaway, carefully checking the rearview mirror to be sure nobody followed me over this time.
I think I’m safe, but I still wear my hood up over my hair as I rush to his front door.
Last time I was here, I was so shaken by what went down with Rivera and then I got called away early to get my son, so I didn’t really get to explore the abode belonging to Mr. Lincoln Nash.
A person’s home can tell you an awful lot about a guy, but I didn’t get the chance to learn much of anything last time.
This time, I’m taking my time. I want the grand tour, and I want him to make love to me in every single room so when he walks into each one, he thinks of me and what we did in there.
Okay, maybe that’s too much too soon.
We’ll see if I get up the nerve to actually say that to him.
He opens the door before I ring the bell, and he’s standing there in jeans, a black shirt, and no socks or shoes. He’s just home on a Friday night all casual and hot with that scruff lining his jaw and those dark eyes of his hot on mine, and I’m not sure how I got so lucky.
Or maybe it’s not luck at all. What we have is simply a curse since I’m madly in love with him yet can’t really be with him the way normal couples can be.
What a confusing hot mess.
“Hi,” I say tentatively once the door is shut behind me.
“Hey. Come on in.”
I’m carrying a duffel bag, and he takes it from me and sets it on the floor by the stairs to go up whenever we do.
I follow him toward his kitchen, a room I never got to explore the last time I was here. It has white quartz countertops and a subway tile backsplash with black cabinets and a white floor. It’s all black and white, very monochrome, but something about it is both sexy and alluring.
“Are you hungry? I was just going to order some takeout.”
“What if we make dinner instead?” I ask.
“Make dinner?” he echoes.
“Yeah…like cook? You know, how normal people make food and then eat it?”
“Are you saying I’m not normal?” he counters.
I laugh. “No, but cooking can be both relaxing and therapeutic.”
“So is getting a massage, but there’s no dishes to clean up afterward.”
“Ha, ha, smart guy. Do you keep anything around here or do you order all your meals?” I ask, curious about his actual lifestyle.
“I have some stuff around.” He nods toward the fridge and his pantry. “Feel free to take a peek around.”
I chuckle but start my exploration, and I find enough stuff to be able to make breakfast for dinner. As I’m bending down to check the bottom shelf of his rather large pantry, I feel his hand connect with my ass, a rather loud crack filling the pantry.
“Hey!” I protest, rubbing my ass.
“You can’t really expect me not to touch your ass when you’re presenting it to me like that.”
