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I swing the door open. “Fine. Talk.”

Lincoln steps inside and closes the door behind him. His massive form takes up so much space, the entire cabin feels instantly warmer. It’s like his body heat immediately heated the space ten degrees.

“Explain,” I say, crossing the room to get a fork—and to put distance between us.

The man rests his hands on his hips and looks down at his feet, thinking of his words carefully. “Listen, there are many people counting on me, and I’m constantly worried I’ll drop the ball. I worry I’ll fail them. Yesterday, I was…frustrated.”

My eyebrows raise. “Frustrated?” The question comes out several octaves higher than I wanted it to.

He drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. “Not at you. At myself. Frustrated for…wanting you, I guess.”

I place the pie on the countertop and take a step toward him. His expression is so tragic, so broken.

“You make me want things I can’t have,” he says, finally looking at me.

Lincoln holds my gaze for a long moment, then opens his mouth to say more and closes it again.

I take two steps closer to him, bridging the distance between us until I’m standing toe-to-toe and looking up to hold eye contact with him. “Why can’t you have something just for yourself, Lincoln?” I raise my hand and rest it on his chest, right over his heart.

He places his hand on top of mine. “Because you’re leaving, Princess.”

My shoulders droop. The thought of leaving fills my chest with a dull ache. The longer I stay, the less I want to leave. “Lincoln, I won’t pretend I have everything figured out. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay—how long Hank will even let me stay. But I know when you kissed me, it felt good. I felt…alive, more than I have in a long time. More alive than when I compete, more alive than completing the highest jump…and that kind of chemistry deserves to be explored, doesn’t it? I don’t want to let fear hold me back.”

Lincoln closes his eyes, and I hold perfectly still. He needs to make a choice, embrace the connection we have and give this a chance, or keep his distance and play it safe.

He knows what I want. Now it’s his turn to make up his mind.

CHAPTER 21

Hattie

Lincoln slowly opens his eyes, his gaze dropping to my lips before his free hand slides around my waist. He pulls my body against his, sharing a heated look with me before his hot mouth is on mine. He releases my hand, and his arms go around my hips, hoisting me up until my legs wrap around him. He presses me against the wall as he kisses me, my core throbbing with every brush of his hardness against my center.

“You drive me crazy,” he groans between kisses.

I release a breathy laugh. “Just what every girl wants to hear.”

“These monogrammed pajamas do things to me,” he grits out, lifting me higher and nipping at my hard nipple through my pajama top. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

Slowly, I shake my head. “I’m not. Also, I have more of these pajamas back home. Red, black, even white ones with little stallions all over them.”

Lincoln growls. “It’s almost concerning how hard that makes me.”

My head falls back as I laugh, and he nips at my neck, then loosens his grip, allowing me to slide down his body.

He reaches down and tugs his boots off, then shrugs out of his coat and drops it on the floor beside his boots.

He studies me like he’s not sure what to do next, or perhaps he’s deciding what he wants to do first. I reach for his shirt, tugging it out of his jeans and over his head.

My eyes take in his bare chest, chiseled with hard lines of muscle and a smattering of dark chest hair. I allow my gaze to roam over his arms, noticing all the different patterns and pictures he has tattooed there. A bouquet of wildflowers, a bull with long horns, a horseshoe, a cinnamon roll in the shape of a heart. Every tattoo is different, but all intertwined like a swirling portrayal of his life.

I run my fingers over his left arm, lingering on the horseshoe. “They all mean something…don’t they?”

He smiles a sad smile. “That one’s for my dad. He taught me everything I know. I loved learning from him, following him from ranch to ranch.”

“It sounds like he was really wonderful.”

“He was,” Lincoln whispers, pulling me into his arms.