I can’t believe he’s staying the night.

Let me tell you something, I’m not freaking happy about it.

He drives me crazy, he’s overbearing and rude, and he actually had the nerve to come in here after screwing some woman and expect to stay. Who does he even think he is? Who does that?

I make a frustrated sound as I pull the blankets off the shelves. I hope he falls off the sofa and smacks himself in the nose. Fuck knows he deserves it.

I wouldn’t have called him if I wasn’t desperate. But I tried Ellie, and Lucy has her phone off because she’s at work. I don’t know any of the numbers from the club, so I couldn’t call anyone from there. It was Lincoln or the cops. And, honestly, I don’t want the cops involved any further. I tried them once, they didn’t want to help me, not really. They said I didn’t really have a case.

I call bullshit.

So they were the last people I was going to turn to in this situation, so that left Lincoln. I called him, hoping he’d get hold of the creeper watching me and get rid of him, instead he scared him off and now he has to stay at my house. I’m not sure how comfortable I am with it, I’m honestly not. But I don’t really get a choice. I wouldn’t feel safe alone, that’s the honest truth. I wouldn’t feel safe at all. And he’s right, though I’ll never admit it, my security is crap.

I bundle the blankets and a pillow into my hands and walk back down the stairs and into the living area. Lucky for him, I have a really great sofa. I worked hard to buy something that was lush and comfortable. I’ve never been one of those people who buy an expensive sofa out of some fancy ass leather that feels like you’re sitting on a rock. Just to say I have it. No thanks. I want to unwind at the end of the way, sinking into the sofa, relaxing, feeling its warm plushness surrounding me.

Yes, please.

Lincoln is staring at my photos when I walk back in. His dark eyes scanning over them. My heart races, because I really wish he wouldn’t look at those, but I can’t really tell him not to without having to give him a reason. So, I say nothing. I just clear my throat. He turns around, eyes going over me in that way they do, like he’s eating me up, like he’s devouring me with every glance. I wonder if he knows he’s doing it, or if he simply looks like that at every woman that goes past.

Probably more to the truth.

“You got beer?” he asks. That gravelly voice hits me right in my core, but fuck him, I’ll never tell him how much his stupid ass affects me.

“Yes, anything else? Steak? Potatoes? A foot rub?”

He shrugs. “If you’re offerin’.”

“I’m not,” I mutter, making up the sofa and then going to the fridge and getting him a beer.

I hate, hate, hate that I’m about to give him a beer right now, but whatever, I can’t get snippy about it, he’s doing me a favor. This, in all honesty, is me reminding myself why I’m not hurting him right about now.

He’s doing me a favor.

He’s doing me a favor.

Once he’s got the beer, he takes a few sips and then murmurs, “Where’s your shower?”

I point toward the stairs. “You’ll find it. Stay away from my room.”

He grins, takes another big sip of beer, then snatches the towel up I put on the sofa and strides up the stairs. I exhale and sit down. Gosh, this isn’t exactly how I saw tonight going, but here I am. My phone rings just as I’m pondering this, and I look down to see Ellie’s name flashing across the screen. I answer it.

“Hey, Ellie.”

“Hey. I’m so sorry, I left my phone at home. I’m still not the best with using it. Are you okay? I saw you called a few times.”

“Yeah, I just had a bit of a problem with someone watching me from outside. I called Lincoln; he came over and sorted it out.”

“Oh, my gosh! Are you okay? Who was it?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. But whoever it was, he was watching me. Brazenly, too.”

“I’m glad Lincoln helped out, that’s scary. Are you okay now? Do you need us to come over?”

“No, he’s got that covered. He’s going to put a new security system in tomorrow also, apparently mine is not good enough.”

“Well, that’s comforting. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for calling back. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem at all. I’ll call you tomorrow, check in.”

I finish the phone call and text Lucy, telling her Lincoln is staying the night and why. The fifty texts in a row I get back tell me she’s not happy about it either. I tell her it’s okay and that I love her.

I’m just cleaning up the last of my dishes from dinner when Lincoln strolls down the stairs. Not walks, but fucking strolls, like he’s a god or something. His chest is bare, his hair is damp, and his shorts are sitting way too fucking low on his hips. It’s making parts of my body wet that I really, really, really don’t need wet right now. Damn him for being so fucking gorgeous. Why does he have to have a body like that? With all those tattoos? And that olive skin stretched across muscles that make my mouth water?

Don’t get me started on the V that dips into his pants.

Why, oh why, can’t he be unattractive? That would be so much easier.

“If you’d like a picture, happy to send one,” he says, and I jerk my head up.

Idiot.

He just completely busted me checking him out. And openly, too. I wasn’t even trying to hide it. Hell, he probably caught the drool slipping from my mouth. I try to hide the fact that my cheeks grow incredibly hot and red by turning around quickly. “I’m a woman, I’m allowed to look. God knows you do every single time I’m around.”

“Never said you couldn’t look.”

His voice is closer now.

He’s in my kitchen.

I’m going to die.

“Well, then I don’t know why we’re still talking about it.”

He chuckles, but I refuse to turn around and look.

What I need to do right now is go to bed. Yes. Right now. Bed.

It’s early though; I don’t like sleeping this early. Usually, I watch my favorite television show on Netflix and I eat some chocolate and maybe drink wine. Whatever. Don’t judge. I’m only human.

“Don’t let me stop you doing whatever it is you do at night.”

It’s like he’s reading my mind.

“I usually don’t have men walking around shirtless, being all bossy and manly.”

“Tonight you do. So whatever you do, I’ll join you.”

I turn finally, and he’s right there, staring down at me. All six feet, solid muscle. Just staring at me with those dark, intense eyes. Fuck. My knees start shaking, and I slip out quickly, going to the fridge, grabbing the whole damned bottle of wine instead of a glass, the whole block of chocolate, and then I walk right past him to the sofa. I toss his blanket aside and sit down.

“You goin’ to eat all that?” he says, getting another beer and dropping down beside me.

“Yes. Why? Are you judging me?” I say, giving him the stink eye.

“No, I wanted some.”

I blink. “You want some?”

“Yeah.”

“Chocolate?”

“Well, yeah ...”

“Are you joking?”

His brows furrow. “Man ain’t allowed chocolate?”

“Chocolate is for women ... angry women, women on their period, stressed women, horny women ... just women.”

“Load of crap. Men like chocolate too,” he mutters, reaching over for the block and snapping half of it off.

“You just took half!” I protest.

“You goin’ to eat the whole damn thing, were you?”

“Actually, yes I was. Why? Have you got a problem with that? Scared it might go straight to my thighs?”

His eyes drop to my thighs and he murmurs, “I wouldn’t be complainin’ if it went to your thighs, thicker the better. And you’ve got fuckin’ lovely legs.”

Well.

That backfired.

I look away, snapping off a piece of chocolate and throwing it into my mouth. “Well good, because I’m going to eat all of this.”

He snorts. “Go for it.”

I use the remote to turn on a television show, and then I break open the wine and take a sip straight from the bottle.

“Fuckin’ classy,” Lincoln grunts, almost as if he’s trying to fight back a laugh.

“I never said I was a lady, Lincoln Knight. My house. My night. I’ll drink out of the damned bottle if I want to. I use my manners all damned week out there in the world; in here, it’s a free for all.”

A low chuckle. “Sounds good to me.”

He doesn’t mind.

Well fuck.

He’s just making it harder and harder not to like him.

Dammit.

~*~*~*~