I touch his chest which is heaving. “I know. It’s not fair,” I agree. I look back around the room. “Is that why you don’t come here often? You don’t want to see this?”

  He shrugs, some of the anger leaves his face.

  “They talk about her all the time. It’s like she never died,” he says quietly as he steps inside the room. He’s tentative as he approaches her desk. It’s then I see what he’s looking at, it’s four photos from a photobooth, Lincoln and Carrie. She’s wearing a hat, but you can tell she has no hair, and just like Lincoln described her, she’s smiling and making goofy faces. In the last one, she’s kissing his cheek while he rolls his eyes. I smile.

  I see him study the photos, and I know he’s remembering when they were taken. I decide to try another tactic. “Take me to your room,” I say to him as I take his hand and lead him toward the doorway. I have never really explored his room before, it felt too personal, but now I want to see it.

  He walks to the next door, the one we passed, and pauses before turning the knob and pushing it open.

  I step inside after him and grin. It hasn’t changed either. This is the room of a teenage boy. There are also posters in here too. He has fewer books and only one photo. A picture of him and Carrie at the beach as kids. There are superhero figurines, a signed baseball, an older acoustic guitar sits in the corner next to a beanbag chair.

  “So, this is where the magic happens?” I ask him, turning to face him.

  He raises his eyebrows.

  “Not anymore,” he says.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  He walks toward me until we are facing each other, only inches apart. He cups my face and looks intently at me. “What are you doing to me, little birdie?” he asks as his thumb rubs against my cheek.

  “I…” I trail off as his face moves toward mine.

  I close my eyes as I feel his lips brush against mine. I sigh, and he takes advantage of my mouth opening to swipe his tongue across my upper teeth before delving inside my mouth.

  I allow him entry, my tongue tangling with his. He begins to back me toward his bed. I take off my shirt, breaking our kiss for a moment. I toss my t-shirt on the floor as he unbuttons my jeans. His hand skims across the waistband of my panties, and I shiver from the contact.

  I shrug my jeans down my legs until I’m standing before him in only my underwear. I crawl back onto the bed and lean up on my elbows, looking at him under hooded eyes. His gaze is dark with need as he surveys my body. He sucks in a breath and pulls his shirt over his head.

  “Damn, what I wouldn’t have given to have a girl like you in this bed ten years ago,” he says as he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down with his boxer briefs to the ground. He fists his cock as he looks at me, and now I want him so badly, I don’t even know how to verbalize it.

  “Cat got your tongue, little birdie?” he says with a laugh.

  I nod and grin at him as he leans over me and kisses first my mouth and then my jaw. I feel his hands reach into the cups of my bra, pushing down the fabric so my breasts are pushed up, my nipples hard and beckoning. I don’t need to direct him, because he immediately leans down and sucks hard on one. I groan and arch into his mouth as his hot, wet tongue circles one before doing the same with my other.

  I run my hands through his thick, wavy hair and press his head against my breast, seeking more.

  “Is my little birdie impatient?” he asks with a chuckle as he moves farther down my body, licking and sucking. I’m now shamelessly writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair in desperation.

  “Please,” I manage.

  “Please what?” he asks as his tongue dances across my belly right above the waistband of my underwear. His one finger traces the lace edge of my panties at the crease of my leg.

  “I need you,” I whisper.

  “Where do you need me?” he coaxes.

  “Lincoln,” I groan, my eyes flying open to look down at him. He’s looking at me intently as he continues to tease me.

  “Say it,” he commands.

  I close my eyes. I can feel the color rush to my face. A mere day ago, I was a virgin, and now he wants me to dirty talk? I feel like the training wheels just came off my bike, and I don’t know if I’m ready to ride without them yet.

  “I…” I start.

  “Yes?” he asks as his finger dips under the fabric of my panties, and I suck in a breath.

  “I need your mouth there,” I say to him with my eyes still squeezed shut.

  “Where?” he teases.

  “You know where,” I say.

  “Say it, Lark,” he says as he kisses my sex through the fabric of my panties. I know he can feel the wetness that now coats them.

  “My…” I’m at a loss of words. “Pussy,” I finally say feeling so naughty saying the word.

  He growls as I say the word and pulls my underwear to the side as he spreads my sex open and licks me. I cry out under his touch.

  “Damn it, Lark. It makes me so fucking hard to hear you say that word,” he growls against my clit before sucking on it. My eyes aren’t just closed now, they are rolled back in my head. I grasp at his hair, tugging his face against my sex.

  “That’s right, baby. Fuck my face. Take what you need,” he says against my entrance before I feel his tongue inside me. I do as he says and grind against his face. His nose hitting my clit as his tongue moves in and out of me.

  “My clit!” I cry out. I’m so far gone that I have no shame now in telling him exactly where I need him because I am about ten seconds away from completely imploding on his bed.

  He licks up my folds until he reaches my clit, which he circles twice before biting it lightly and sucking it. I feel a finger enter me, and then a second one, I ride against them as he continues sucking at my bundle of nerves. I’m so close, but it’s when his third finger slides down to my ass, and I feel him circle my back entrance that I completely lose it. I writhe beneath him, crying out his name. He keeps going even after I still.

  “Again,” he says as he starts over.

  “Lincoln,” I say, my whole body is lit up, and I’m not sure I can come again.

  Then I feel a finger wet from my release slowly push against a hole that has never had anything push against it. I tense.

  “Relax, Lark. I’m not gonna take you here unless you want me to. I just want to make you come harder than you ever have,” he says as he sucks and licks at my folds. I relax slightly, and he pushes what I think is his little finger into my ass. It feels foreign and weird, but it’s when two fingers enter my sex and push into my wetness that I feel the fullness. I don’t know what comes over me as his mouth sucks on my clit and three of his fingers fill two of my holes, but I suddenly become a sex-craved maniac. I grind against his fingers over and over as his tongue flicks rapidly at my clit, and then I’m overcome by sensations. I cry out incoherent things as he slows his movements. I sink into the mattress. My body feels like jelly. I vaguely feel him pull down my panties and reach around me to unhook my bra, and I don’t respond until I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance. I open my eyes, and he’s staring at me, waiting.

  “Yes,” I whisper as he pushes his length inside me. I spread my legs farther apart, and he sinks all the way into me. We are both still for a moment, just staring at one another.

  I buck against him, and he snaps out of whatever he was thinking and begins to move. I match each of his thrusts as we begin a hard rhythm. He feels incredible.

  “Turn over,” he says as he pulls out and flips me over. I hesitate for a moment, but he re-enters me as he slips his finger back inside my ass. The feeling is…overwhelming.

  “Jesus, you feel good. I can feel my dick inside you,” he murmurs as he pounds relentlessly at me. I arch my ass up farther, and he pounds deeper into me. I clench the pillow and cry out into it as I come again.

  A moment later, I feel him thrust deep as his cock pulses inside me.

  Lincoln

  I had wet dreams about something like this, right here in this very bed. Part of me wants to stay buried inside her, hiding there, but I know I can’t do that. I pull out of her and cross the room to the bathroom where I find clean towels. I bring one back and hold it out, unsure if she wants to clean herself up, or if she’ll let me do it. She spreads her legs, and I see my semen trickling out of her. I can’t help myself, I run a finger around her sex, finger painting her with my seed. Goose bumps form on her skin.

  “We should get back to your parents,” she breathes.

  “You have no idea how fucking sexy you are, do you?” I ask her as I wipe the trace of myself off her sensitive flesh.

  “Lincoln,” she responds, giving me a hard stare.

  “You are.”

  She pulls up her pants and stands. I throw the used towel in the hamper and take her outstretched hand. But instead of following her lead toward the door, I yank her against me.

  “I…” I trail off, unsure of how to say what I want to say.

  “It’s OK. Your dad will be OK,” she says, misinterpreting my thoughts.

  I put a finger to her lips. “You’re right. I am scared about that,” I admit. “But that’s not what I was going to say.”

  She raises her eyebrows.

  “This isn’t just a…” I search for the right word.

  “Fuck buddy situation?” she suggests.

  I laugh. “Definitely not that.”

  “What…is this then?” she asks.

  I look into her eyes and reach up to cradle her face in my hands. “This…” I don’t know what to say.

  Her eyes look down, and I curse myself.

  “It’s OK, Lincoln. You don’t have to label it,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. “We should go.”

  She pulls away and starts for the door. “Lark?”

  She turns to look back at me, and I can see I’ve hurt her again. Maybe I’m not boyfriend material. Maybe I should let her go. She deserves so much more than me.

  “Let’s talk later when my head is clear.”

  “Sure,” she says as she walks out of my room.

  Chapter 27

  Lark

  “It’s official. County General has the worst coffee in the world.” I plop back on the waiting room seat and hand my tasteless cup of coffee to Lincoln.

  “Wow, thanks,” he says sarcastically as he takes a sip before promptly depositing it in the trash can next to us. We’ve been sitting here for hours waiting for Eric’s test results. Fine, it’s been two hours since we came back here, but it feels like much longer.

  “I can go get us real coffee, if you want,” I offer. His phone buzzes, and he peers down at it. His phone has been blowing up for the past hour, ever since Gwen confiscated his social media account and posted about his dad being in the hospital. Lincoln was beyond pissed and spent twenty minutes in the hallway yelling at Gwen. Now every ladder climber in the greater LA area is sending him messages expressing their worries over his father.

  “Don’t answer it.” I take the phone out of his hand and stick it in my pocket.

  “Lark.”

  “Lincoln, I don’t know how you deal with all these social climbers and piranhas. But you do not need to be dealing with them today, OK? I’m your PA. Let me handle it,” I urge.

  “Fine,” he mumbles as he slides back into the uncomfortable seat. I cross my legs and uncross my legs several times. I seem to have hoards of nervous energy.

  “I’m going to see if your mom wants anything,” I say standing up as I lose the battle to sit still.

  “Lark, just sit down. She’s probably fine.”

  “Lincoln, I…I just need to check, OK?” I can’t explain myself. I can’t explain all the times Margie has made me a cup of coffee or vice versa when she’s stopped by the house unexpectedly when Lincoln isn’t home. This family is still in pain, and they need to get it sorted out, but I’ve never felt it was my problem until right now.

  I walk toward Eric’s room. He’s sleeping and Margie is sitting in the same chair we left her in, reading a magazine.

  “Hey,” I say quietly, trying not to wake Eric.

  “Hi, Lark,” she says. “Don’t worry, he sleeps like the…” She trails off before she can say the word “dead.”

  “Margie?” I ask, breaking her train of thought.

  “Uh, yes, dear?”

  “Is there anything I can get you, coffee, tea?”

  “Oh, uh, no. I’m fine. That’s sweet of you to ask though.”

  I sit down on the chair next to hers.

  “I didn’t realize Carrie’s buried across from your house,” I say.

  Margie’s eyes widen. “He went to visit her then. That’s good,” she says. “It’s good he hasn’t forgotten her.”

  “W-why would he forget her? He loved her,” I say in shock.

  “Oh, you know Lincoln, he’s busy with his music. And his busy life.”

  “You don’t know, do you?” I ask in shock.

  “Know what?”

  I take her hand in mine. “Margie, Lincoln misses her every day. He has pictures of her. He even wrote a song about her. He does charity work because of her at a local hospital and at an animal shelter because she loved animals,” I say, and then wonder if I should drop the bomb about Asher, but decide this conversation is enough for now.

  “B-but he never wants to talk about her,” she says, mystified by my words.

  “I…think…” I trail off as I search for the right words. “I think,” I start again, “that it’s hard for him to think about her because he misses her so much, it pains him to think about her. I think that’s why he doesn’t visit your house often because the reminders of her are everywhere, and he’s…never really coped with it.”

  I see her eyes get glassy. “I guess none of us have, but how do you cope with losing a child?” she asks as she wipes the corner of her eye.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bringing this up right now. You have enough on your plate,” I say apologetically.

  “No, it’s fine. I’m glad you did. I didn’t realize he felt that—”

  She’s cut off when a doctor walks in.

  “Mrs. Grant?” he asks.

  She nods and shakes Eric’s arm. “Honey, the doctor is here.” Eric’s eyes open, and he scoots up on the bed.

  “What’s the verdict, doc?” he asks. The doctor walks in, and Lincoln walks in behind him.

  “Well, it’s not a heart attack. Although you do show some signs of coronary disease, so I would like to set up an appointment with the cardiologist for follow-up. It could be nothing, but if it is a condition, I’d like to get you started on treatment right away. I think the pain you were experiencing is related to a tear in your tendon, here,” he points to an X-ray of Eric’s shoulder on his tablet. “Were you lifting something heavy?”

  Eric nods.

  “When?” he asks.

  “A few weeks ago, but I thought it was just a pulled muscle,” he says.

  “Eric!” Margie scolds.

  “Well, it’s likely gotten worse. You’ll definitely need to see an orthopedic surgeon about it, or it will continue to get worse,” the doctor explains.

  “We will make sure he does,” Margie says.

  “It also looks like you have some acid reflux going on. Do you see a gastroenterologist?” he asks.

  Eric gives him a sheepish look. “I did. But I was feeling better, so I stopped going,” he admits.

  “Eric Grant!” Margie nearly yells.

  “Well, acid reflux should continue to be treated. I would follow up with your doctor.”

  “Anything else, doc? Sounds like I’m just falling apart from old age,” Eric says with a laugh.

  The doctor smiles. “I doubt that. You just need to take better care of yourself. I’ll have a nurse come in shortly to discharge you. I can write a script for some prescription ibuprofen, but I think you should not start it until you see your GI doctor, OK?” he says.

  “Yep, gotcha, doc,” Eric answers.

  The doctor leaves, and Lincoln sits down on the bed.

  “Dad, why haven’t you been taking care of yourself?” he asks.

  “Linc, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  Lincoln sighs and does that nervous running of his hand through his hair. “Dad, I do worry about you guys.”

  Eric smiles. “We worry about you too, son.”

  Lincoln’s phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket expecting it to be another fame-hungry socialite, but instead, it’s a text from Maria with a photo of destroyed pillows and the words “I am not cleaning this mess up.”

  “Uh, Lincoln,” I say.

  “It can wait, Lark,” he says, looking back at his dad, whose smile broadens.

  “Actually, uh, I don’t think it can unless you’re cool with Asher destroying your home.”

  “Who’s Asher?” Margie asks.

  “My dog,” Lincoln says.

  “I have a grand dog! When? Why didn’t you tell us?” Margie says, her voicing rising with each word.

  “Mom, calm down. I just adopted him yesterday,” he explains. “I was going to tell you, but then Dad here had to not take care of himself, so I may have forgotten to mention it.”

  “I take care of myself, for the love of God,” Eric says as he sits up and puts his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to get dressed and checked out of this three-star dump, and then all of us are going to Lincoln’s house, so we can meet our grand dog and talk.”

  “Fine,” Lincoln and his mom huff at the same time. I smile, and Eric catches it and winks at me. This is going to be interesting.

  Chapter 28

  Lincoln

  “I’m sorry about Tiffany. I texted her and rescheduled to meet with her tomorrow,” I say as I pull into the driveway, my parents’ car pulling in behind me.

  “It’s fine.”

  I look over at Lark. I know it’s not fucking fine. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the outgoing rock star Lark I saw on stage at the festival and the timid young woman next to me, but I will help her come out of her shell if it’s the last thing I do.

 

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