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“Suppose someone asks me to dance?” I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“You say no. This is why I want a ring on your finger,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I laughed, shaking my head. “You think that would stop men? You know how many married men have hit on me? Plenty. Rings don’t mean shit.”
His expression darkened, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “That doesn’t make me feel any more secure.”
“You have nothing to be insecure about, and it sounds like you don’t trust me,” I said softly, my tone turning serious.
“I do trust you,” he insisted, setting me down gently on the floor. “I don’t trust other men around you.”
“Elliott, you sound ridiculous,” I murmured, leaning into him and resting my cheek against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat against my ear was oddly comforting. “I know who I want, and it’s not other men.”
“Good,” he said, his voice gruff but relieved as he wrapped his arms around me. “Never,” I whispered, tightening my hold on him. “Face it, you’re stuck with me as long as you behave.”
“Behave? How so?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look down at me, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
“As long as you stay on the straight and narrow,” I said, poking him playfully in the chest. “No outbursts or jealous streaks.”
“I’ll do my best,” he promised, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But you make it hard to be anything but possessive.”
“I hope not,” he said as he gently put me down on the floor. I hugged him around his waist, putting my cheek against his chest. I could hear his heart speeding along and it comforted me that I excited him.
“Jealousy will never leave me where you’re concerned, even if we’re married. You’re mine,” Lincoln said, his voice a rough whisper as he gazed down at me, his grip on my waist tightening possessively.
“And you’re possessive,” I shot back, though the heat in his eyes sent a thrill through me.
His lips curled into a dangerous smile. “When I see what I want, I do whatever it takes for it to be mine.”
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pull of desire he always seemed to ignite in me. “I need to go home and get ready for tonight.”
Lincoln’s eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his usually confident demeanor. “Can I come?”
“To do what?” I asked, meeting his gaze as I arched an eyebrow.
“Just to be with you,” he said, the raw honesty in his voice catching me off guard.
I hesitated, feeling the weight of his stare. “I’m only taking a shower and then heading over to Morgan’s to get dressed.”
“You can say no,” he murmured, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, “as long as you come back here after.”
“I told you I would,” I assured him, trying to ignore the unease twisting in my stomach.
“Use the key I gave you,” he insisted, his eyes searching mine. “I might be asleep by the time you get back.”
Two days ago, Lincoln had handed me a key to his place, a gesture that had sent a jolt of uncertainty through me. It felt too soon, too intimate—especially since I hadn’t given him a key to mine. I was ready to try again with him, but I wasn’t ready to open my life completely, to let him come and go as he pleased.
“I will,” I promised, though my voice was softer, hesitant. “But it could be 2 or 3 in the morning.”
“I don’t care what time it is,” he said, his tone firm.
“I might smell gross,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
He cocked his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I doubt it. You always smell fantastic.”
“It’s because you love me,” I replied, my voice teasing. “You don’t care.”
“It’s not about the smell,” he said, his voice growing serious. “I love the person you are.”
