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“Or else what?” I challenged, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. “You’ll call a client and fuck me while discussing a deal?”
“Wise ass,” he growled, pinning me beneath him with a predatory grin. “I knew there was something I liked about you.”
“No,” I countered, my voice softening as I met his gaze. “There’s something you love about me.”
“Of course,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with intensity. “Love was what I meant to say.”
“Do you have any ice cream?” I asked suddenly, the shift in conversation catching him off guard.
“Ice cream?” he echoed, blinking at me in confusion. “You want ice cream now?”
“Do you have any,” I repeated, “or are we getting dressed and heading to Mr. Moo?”
Lincoln groaned, clearly not thrilled with the idea of leaving the bed. “We are not dressing for anything. I’m keeping you here all night.”
“Only if you have ice cream and you go get it for me,” I challenged, my tone playful but firm.
He grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I only have mint chocolate chip.”
“I love mint chocolate chip,” I said, my smile widening. “Just bring the pint.”
“It’s a half-gallon,” he corrected.
“Even better,” I quipped.
He raised an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into his voice. “Are you getting your period or something?”
“In a few days,” I admitted, shrugging.
“Should I worry?” he asked, his tone half-serious, half-teasing.
“You believe that PMS shit?” I shot back. “I don’t get bitchy around my period. I’m like that all the time,” I said, gripping his ass.
“Little tease,” he growled, rolling me onto my back and hovering over me, his eyes gleaming with playful menace. He dipped down, capturing my mouth with his, the kiss hard and demanding, mashing our lips together in a way that made my head spin.
“Ice cream it is,” he said, pulling back with a grin, leaving me breathless and wanting more, even though we’d already had sex twice in the past hour.
“Where the fuck are you?” Lincoln’s voice crackled through the receiver, sharp and edged with frustration.
“I’m with a client,” I replied, my voice steady despite the tension. “I took them out to dinner.”
“We were supposed to have dinner two hours ago,” Lincoln growled, each word dripping with irritation.
“I understand that,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, “but I couldn’t just blow this guy off.”
“Just as long as you’re not blowing him,” Lincoln shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Anger flared in my chest, hot and unrelenting. “Why would you say something so vulgar? Is your fucking jealousy getting the best of you? How dare you accuse me like that!” I glanced up to see a woman giving me a disapproving look as she hurried her daughter into the bathroom, clearly annoyed by my raised voice. I was sitting in the lounge just outside the door, trying to keep my composure.
Lincoln hissed with restrained fury. “I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“I didn’t call to argue,” I said, my tone clipped.
“Then why did you call?” Lincoln’s voice was tight, as if he were barely holding onto his temper.
“I think it’s best if I sleep at my place tonight,” I said, the words coming out more resigned than I intended.
“Suit yourself. You’ve been disconnected from me lately anyway,” his tone was edged with bitterness.
