Lincoln Gates
I could still taste her on my lips nearly two hours later, and I found myself hoping that her sweet taste never disappeared. Unfortunately, that wasn’t likely, so I would just have to continue to steal kisses from her. My arm was wrapped around her waist, and I stared a bit obsessively at her relaxed expression as her soft body pressed against mine in sleep.
She fit perfectly against me, like she was meant to. Because she was. She was made for me, without a doubt in my goddamn mind.
The house was silent, the television volume down as I watched the light reflect against her stunning tan skin. I hadn’t been lying to her—I did prefer this house over our own, but not because it was anything special right now. It was far more about what it could be for the group of us. I brought my lips down to press against her cheekbone as she mumbled something in her sleep, smiling softly as she stretched against me and fell back into a peaceful slumber. My eyes traveled down her sexy form, a blanket covering both of us from the waist down, but leaving her little halter top to my complete appraisal.
I let out a small groan, noticing that her nipples were slightly hard, pressing against her top and making me realize she wasn’t wearing a bra. How easy would it be to push her shirt up before biting and kissing her soft skin like I’d always imagined. I fucking knew her tits would be perfect, and it was a damn shame I’d never seen them.
Although, there had been a few times this past summer by the pool that I’d cursed her tiny bikini, becausefuck—it was less of a bikini and far more of the world’s cruelest tease.
My fingers ran over her soft stomach as I felt shivers break out onto her skin, making my grin grow, unable to help the surge of pride and fascination at how her body reacted to mine, even in sleep. What would she do if I buried myself between her long legs so that I could devour every inch of her little pussy? I was hoping she would at least let me finish her before she hit me over the head for being an ass and practically attacking her.
I tensed, thinking about how I suddenly hated the word. I did want to pin Dahlia down, but the word ‘attack’ instantly had me feeling furious at Ian. I couldn’t go there right now, though—not when she was in my arms. I tried to distract myself, because I was angry enough tonight, and that wouldn’t do any good.
Instead, I looked around the large family room we were in. The bones of the brick colonial were massive, and a lot of the walls had been taken down throughout the years, expanding the visual size of each floor. I think there were four in total? Possibly five, including the basement. While that base work had been done, almost everything else needed to be updated so that Dahlia fell in love with it.
I was actually really excited to get on with this part of the plan, and I had absolutely no doubt that with the help of an interior designer, Dahlia would be able to make this twelve thousand square foot estate comfortable and cozy. She filled every space with light and energy.
Plus, she was going to be thrilled when she realized who King had hired for this project. Originally, when he had asked me to reach out to one of my mom’s contacts, I hadn’t fully understood why, but as usual, King was ten steps ahead of everyone, and we’d caught up pretty quickly. Now I’d managed to secure one of Dahlia’s favorite designers from an interior design show that she always watched.
The woman had been absolutely thrilled, and while we had refused to be put on the show, I think the commission we were offering was more than enough to pad it. Honestly, Dahlia could decorate everything in neon pink, and as long as she loved it and it made her want to live here with us, I would be thrilled. My smile grew, wondering how the hell this conversation was eventually going to go down.
The concept of leaving Wildberry Lane had never been one that was particularly appealing to any of us, so while this concept of living together had always been an idea that we wanted to pursue, it had been fairly stagnant until the previous owner of this estate had moved out. I shouldn’t have been surprised when King had brought it the next day. It had sat empty most of the summer, and for whatever reason, my brother and I hadn’t fully put it together that the purchase he was talking about was this property until he came back into town. To be fair, between practices and spending time with Dahlia, we had been more than a bit distracted.
I had noticed her staring at it with curiosity often, probably wondering what the inside of it looked like now. A hunch that was only solidified tonight when she had walked the entire first floor with a wistful expression on her face before coming to cuddle. I knew that she was probably noticing all the subtle changes that had been made since we’d last visited in high school, but all too soon, none of the current design would matter.
It was set to become a blank canvas for a home with our girl.
Burying my nose against her throat, I let out a happy hum at that thought. Dahlia always smelled amazing, but right now she smelled especially sweet, her tan skin smelling faintly of coconuts from the lotion that she’d used tonight. I loved it. More than anything, though, I loved this stolen moment together, and I found myself wishing that this was more normal than not for us.
Maybe it could be…
I knew she would be confused about our kiss when she woke up and started to overthink it. I just needed to break her out of that mentality. Dahlia was far less confused about what was going on here than she gave herself credit for. The woman had kissed both Sterling and I today and had simply fallen into a pattern like it was normal, because it should be for us. She hadn’t found it weird when we had been essentially book end to her at the bonfire, and whether she realized it or not, she talked about our group as if it was already the established family that we were going to be in the future. So maybe this could become the new normal.
I mean, cuddling on the couch wasn’t that odd, but this had a different edge to it.
I craved to wake her up just so I could see her face flush like it had been all night. I loved when Dahlia blushed, and I loved how open she was with her emotions. There was such a realness to her reactions, and I didn’t want anything to taint that. It was why I hadn’t given her too much shit when I’d woken up to my brother practically pinning her down on the couch in her bedroom suite. In fact, if anything, I’d been jealous.
Jealous that he’d kissed her first.
Now that I had kissed her, though—reallykissed her—I couldn’t even blame him for acting like a possessive weirdo all night. It was enough to make a man want to lock her up in a room just so that no one else got to see her like that. To hear those soft little noises she made when you gripped her body and dominated her mouth.
Swallowing down my emotions, I ran my fingers against her elegant throat, realizing that I was so deep in that it was possibly dangerous to everyone around me. Dahlia brought forth urges in me that I hadn’t even realized existed. Ones that told me to hide her away from the rest of the world because I was selfish. Really fucking selfish. She was ours, and that had become clear a long time ago.
We just needed to tell her.
Kingston was going to be furious when he found out I’d also kissed her. Well, not furious, but frustrated. He couldn’t talk, though—Kingston always made fucking decisions without us, and while usually they made sense in the long run, sometimes it was because he was an impatient fucker. So now he could deal. Dahlia had kissed both my brother and I… really fucking eagerly. I couldn’t regret it, and I would probably continue to do it. We would just have to deal with adjusting our timeline on telling her.
One that we hadn’t even worked out. I think we were all so freaked out at the idea of fucking up this careful balance that we had just done nothing. Until today. It didn’t surprise me that my brother had kissed her, because how could you not when Dahlia was laid out against you on a couch? My eyes flickered down to my case in point. But I’d been so goddamn worked up at the prospect of what could have happened with Gregory that I hadn’t been in full control of my reactions. My body had jumped ahead of my common sense, and before I knew it, I was devouring her soft lips as she kissed me back like it was the most natural thing in the entire goddamn world. Like we’d been doing it forever.
I had imagined kissing Dahlia again a million times in my head, not the sweet kiss from when we were younger, but one where I finally kissed her like I wanted. And now that I’d kissed her again, exactly how I wanted, I realized that my fantasies were absolutely nothing compared to the reality of it.
I should have been scared about my emotional spectrum regarding Dahlia, because it was like nothing I’d ever felt before. Her frame shifted against me as if sensing my tension as I tried to relax, just thrilled to have her here in my arms. It had been a smart idea for King to send me back here, because I’d almost lost it. This wasn’t about Dahlia not being around when he beat the ever living fuck out of Greg and made it clear that he shouldn’t ever breathe her name. No, this was about me getting out of there before I did something to land myself in legal trouble. We were dealing with enough of that this weekend.
My jaw clenched as images of what I’d like to do to Greg, how I wanted to make him suffer, flashed across my brain. I knew that there was a part of me that was broken, and there was no damn reason for it. I’d grown up normally, with a loving family. So why the fuck did I have such an insane sense of bloodlust? Honestly, I think maybe King was the only one who knew the true extent of it, because it was something I carried so tight to my chest that even my own twin hadn’t caught on yet.
Then again, King and I had been through a lot together.