“You ever goin’ to tell me what the fuck I’m missin’ here?”

I look to Lincoln. After my bath, I came out and he had made me something to eat and a cup of tea. Now we’re sitting on my sofa, and I honestly don’t know what to think or feel. That man came into my house, he came in and he could have done so much to me if Lincoln hadn’t decided to come and see me after the way I left. If he had made another choice ... I shake my head, I can’t even think about it.

And then there is Yana. God. All this time and she still has some sort of issue with me. To give my name to a man knowing full well his intentions were to hurt me. What the hell is wrong with her? Have the last few years not soothed her anger? And if she’s so angry, she only has herself to blame. After all, I never did anything to her. So why the hell is she still so caught up on making me suffer?

I think that part bothers me the most.

“I’d rather not,” I say, looking him in the eye, “but, Lincoln, I will tell you about Yana, and Nicolai, and where I went wrong if it’ll make things easier. But in the end, it makes no difference to the outcome, or why I want to find Nicolai. I made mistakes, sure, but it can’t be undone.”

“There is somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me, and fuck, Shania, it’s getting’ to me.”

“And I’m sure there is plenty you don’t say. We all have a right to protect what we hold close, Lincoln. I have a right to keep some things to myself.”

His jaw tenses, but he nods. “Tell me about Yana.”

“Yana was sort of Nicolai’s girl, as I’ve told you before. But she hated me. She was jealous of me. She did a lot to try and get me out of that place. When she found out Nicolai and I had slept together, that she wasn’t number one anymore, she lost her mind. I don’t really want to go over the details, but she ended up losing her job and then I didn’t hear from her again. But obviously she still has it out for me, because she ran into that man, and told him my full name so he could find me. That ... that tells me she is still looking for revenge.”

Lincoln’s jaw tenses. “Don’t like that. He could have hurt you, or worse ...”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Yeah, I know.”

“She still involved with Nicolai?”

I shake my head. “As far as I know, no, she isn’t. But she is obviously still dancing, because where else would she have just run into that man?”

“You make a good point. We’ll look into it, find her, give her a talking to that’ll make her reconsider coming near you again.”

I bite my lip. She won’t like that. But, it has to be done. Tonight could have gone so much worse.

“And Nicolai,” Lincoln tells me. “You got feelings for him still?”

His questions shocks me, it honestly does. I mean, sure, we’ve been over Nicolai before but he hasn’t directly asked me how I feel about it. He’s accused me of being obsessed, but feelings ... No, he’s never actually asked that.

“No,” I tell him, and that’s the truth. Nicolai was my biggest mistake, but he taught me a lot. I was young, and stupid, and in lust with a man who didn’t feel the same way. I read things wrong, I made a fool out of myself, and in turn, I caused him to take off. He took from me, and while I deserved it at the time, he had no right to disappear forever. “I don’t have feelings for Nicolai. None whatsoever.”

“Then what the fuck is causing that emptiness in your eyes, Shania? You think I’m stupid? That I can’t see it? I can fuckin’ see it. You hide behind sarcasm and that fake happy, but you’re broken, and whatever you’re broken over, it eats you up inside.”

His words hit me like a slap to the face and a punch to the heart. Because he’s right, he’s so right it aches. I live every day with this dull ache in my chest. And while I’ve taught myself to get on with my life, to make myself as happy as I can be, because it was the only way I was ever in for a chance, I still feel empty. So damned empty. And I just want that emptiness to go away. I’m in a good place now. Nicolai is the final piece to my puzzle. My happiness puzzle.

“Look,” I say, my voice tired. “Once this is all over and I’ve sorted it out, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Are you ashamed of whatever it is you’re hidin’?”

I swallow, but look him dead in the eyes. “Yes. Yes, I am. I’m horrified by it. I’m so upset because I let it happen, I let this happen. I sunk. I hit rock bottom, Lincoln, and I don’t say that lightly. Nicolai had a right to do what he did, but that doesn’t mean it was fair. I pulled myself back up, got myself together, stopped wallowing, and now I’m going to fix things. But am I ashamed? Yes. Right to my very core.”

Lincoln’s eyes keep locked on mine. “Ain’t nobody around here goin’ to judge you, Shania. We’ve all got demons, some worse than others, but you gotta know we won’t judge you.”

I swallow, and damn, why does he have to be so nice right now? It’s so much easier if we hate each other, because then I don’t have to feel anything. I don’t have to look at him and want him so badly I can’t think straight.

That feeling has gotten me into a heck of a lot of trouble before.

“This Nicolai, you love him?”

I shake my head, straight away. “No. But I was infatuated with him. He took my virginity. I thought, I don’t know, that we were something ... that I meant something. I guess you could say I was stupid. Young. He only wanted me because I was young, and hot, and he liked my spunk. He took what he wanted, and I gave it without hesitation, and then everything changed.”

“Sorry that happened to you,” Lincoln mutters. “Shitty ass feelin’.”

“Yeah,” I nod, “Yeah, it is.”

“Gotta know, again, we’ve all done stupid shit.”

“I went over the top. I drove him crazy. I wanted something he wasn’t willing to give. I pushed him, and I made a huge mistake. That man ... I don’t blame him for everything. I’m equally to blame. He always made it clear he didn’t want anything more from me.”

Lincoln studies me. “Well, live and learn. How are you feelin’ now, anyway?”

“I’m okay, my neck kills.”

“Come sit in front of me.”

I blink. “In front of you?”

“On the floor. In front of me. Move it.”

“You know, we’re not supposed to get along, we’re not even supposed to like each other.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he mutters. “Now hurry up before I change my mind.”

I move, shuffling across the floor and sitting in front of him. His big hands settle on my shoulders and he asks, “Where is it sore?”

“Kind of ... everywhere.”

“Can work with everywhere.”

He starts lightly kneading my sore muscles, rolling them in his palm, pinching them softly in his fingers, and oh lord, it feels incredible. I close my eyes and moan out loud, what can I say, it feels good. Lincoln keeps going, massaging my pain away. After ten or so minutes, his hands stop, and he goes still. I tip my head back and look up at him, and he glances down, holding my eyes.

“I want you so fuckin’ bad I can’t think straight, Shania. No woman has ever had this effect on me. Don’t know what it is. Don’t fuckin’ understand it because all we do is fight. But right now, I’m findin’ it very hard to think straight.”

I stare at him. Shocked. Lincoln has never openly admitted to wanting anything from me. He certainly has never told me he’s never felt like this. I mean, in all the arguing, I must admit something grew in me, too. For whatever strange reason. And it feels good. Really good. But I’m terrified of it. So damned scared of making the same mistake. I’ve pushed men away for far less, figuring it’s better to be on my own than to risk ruining things for myself again.

“Then take what you want,” I whisper, holding his eyes.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’ve had a hard night, I can’t ...”

He stands and steps out from behind me, walking into the kitchen and pulling out a beer. He cracks it open and swallows deeply. I stand on shaky legs, walking over until I reach him. I place a hand on his chest and tip my head back. “Please.”

It isn’t begging.

It’s just hopeful.

His eyes search my face, for what, I don’t know, then he growls, “Will you do somethin’ for me?”

I nod. “Yes. What?”

“Strip.”

I blink, and my lips part slightly. “Strip? Here?”

“Yeah. Here. Now.”

I inhale. And then nod. “Okay.”

I haven’t stripped in a good while, and honestly, I hadn’t ever thought I would again. But, the idea of taking my clothes off in a sensual way for Lincoln isn’t unappealing. I want it. I want to see his face as he watches me. I’d love nothing more.

He moves back to the sofa, sitting down, staring at me with those intense eyes. I swallow, rubbing my arms. It’s been a while. And never one on one. It’s easier when it’s a crowd and I can zone out. But the way he’s looking at me right now, oh, it’s spectacular. I walk over to my iPod and put on a song, I don’t even know what, I just pick one, and then I stand in front of him, and I start moving.

It comes back, as easy as riding a bicycle.

My hips sway, my hands move, sliding slowly, sensually over my body. I reach up, undoing my hair and letting it fall. Men love hair, that’s one move that always got them, and by the way Lincoln’s jaw just tensed, he liked it. A lot.

I reach up, grabbing handfuls of my hair in my hands and move my hips, twisting them side to side, closing my eyes, letting my body relax and move. Then, I go for my clothes, slowly bunching my shirt in my hands, lifting it up just a little as I sway down so my bottom touches the floor, and then I come up again. I lift my shirt over my head, and toss it at Lincoln, earning me a grin that makes my panties wet.

I spin around once my shirt is off, before he can take a peek, and look back at him over my shoulder, giving him a little smile. Another thing that drives them wild. Nicolai always taught me that it isn’t you naked that gets them going, it’s the process of you getting naked that gets them going. Take your time. Slow and steady wins the race.

I take hold of my cotton shorts and slowly slide them down, putting my backside in full view of Lincoln as I do, then I stand, knowing full well I’m pantie-less. I know I have a nice booty, I’ve been told that enough times to believe it. I wiggle it around and relish in the low growl I hear come from his side of the room. Then, and only then, do I turn, fully naked, still swaying to the song, hair around my face, looking up at him through hooded lashes.

And the look he’s giving me is exactly what I want. It’s everything I could have imagined and more. He’s looking at me like he wants to eat me alive, like he is barely able to keep himself in that chair. I grin at him, sexy and slow, and then I start moving my hands over my body as I sway, driving him utterly wild.

He moves quickly.

One minute he’s sitting, the next he’s standing and striding toward me.

He catches me with one swift movement, and I’m up over his shoulder.

He walks quickly to my bedroom, tossing me, well, gently laying me, on the bed and removing his clothes like a man crazed. I gasp when he drops between my legs, devouring my pussy like a starving animal. I scream and clutch his hair, overwhelmed and yet loving every second of it. He’s crazy, out of his mind, his big body humming with need. I can practically feel it vibrating through me.

He eats me until I’m screaming his name, arching on the bed, knees shaking, and then and only then does he come over top of me. I’ve never had him like this. Never been the small, fragile girl under his big frame. We’ve always had sex in ways where it isn’t this intimate. Like this, I can smell him, feel him, see him, hell I can practically taste him. And I want him, so damned badly, probably more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.

And that’s saying something.

“I want you so fuckin’ bad I can’t think,” Lincoln growls.

And then he’s inside me.

Just like that.

Filling me. Making me gasp in pleasure. Making my body come to life. I wrap my legs around his hips, grab onto his biceps, and look him dead in the eye as he starts moving. Dragging his cock in and out of me, eyes locked on mine, body held up by those muscular arms. He starts moving faster, making me gasp and writhe in pleasure. But it’s when he drops down, circling his arms around me, capturing me in a deep embrace all while still moving inside of me, that I lose it.

I cum so hard, and yet I barely make a sound. His whole body is wrapped around mine, hanging onto me close, it would seem almost wrong to scream at a time like this. No man has ever held me the way he’s holding me right now—like I matter. Like I’m actually something. So, I whimper. I whimper into the curve of his neck, making him groan in pleasure. My big man, groaning.

Fuck.

Yes.

He cums a few minutes later, too. Panting, clutching me, making me feel like the most beautiful fucking female in the entire world. He lifts his head finally and looks down at me. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, Shania. Don’t know if you know how much, but you are.”

“You think so?” I whisper.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Fuck.

“You’re beautiful too. I mean, ah, handsome.”

He grins down at me, and then he’s gone, his body heat, his power, his strength, the safe little bubble he just had me in all disappears, and I want to beg for it back. It makes me feel immediately empty.

“Move over,” he says, after disappearing into the bathroom to clean up and then coming back. I took the time to do the same and got back into bed, fully dressed, before he returned.

“Pardon?” I ask, confused.

“Move over.”

I give him a confused look.

“You don’t think I’m lettin’ you sleep alone tonight, do you? Fuck knows what that man could have had planned. Don’t know that nobody else is goin’ to try come in here. Not to mention you’re hurt. You’re going to have one hell of a black eye in the morning. Want to be here to help you out. Now, move over. I’m not sleepin’ on that couch again.”

I bite my lip, but dammit, I move over.

He climbs into the bed, his big body making it squeak, which in turn, makes me giggle. He’s such a big man, bigger than any I’ve ever met. I roll towards him, “I think you’re too big for my bed.”

He grunts. “It’ll have to deal.”

I stare at his tattoos. He has so many of them, it’s hard to define any on particular image. They’re all kind of blended together and covering his body.

“Why so much ink?” I ask him.

“I like the way it makes me feel.”

“And how is that?”

He rolls just slightly and looks at me. “Bulletproof.”

Definitely not the answer I expected.

But it certainly is a truthful one.

I respect that.

More than he’ll ever know.

~*~*~*~