“Don’t stop,” I groan as I squirm against the two digits he has lodged into my entrance, seeking any sort of friction to alleviate the burning desire running through my veins.

  He chuckles and lets out a breath against my engorged clit. I whimper and push his head back against me.

  “Please don’t stop,” I repeat.

  “Oh, baby, I’m not stopping all night,” he says before sucking on me again. His fingers begin to move, and I think I’m going to implode or explode, I’m not totally sure, and I sure as hell can’t think worth shit right now because all my blood is in my nether regions.

  I feel myself climbing higher, my orgasm so close that I can almost taste it. And then his finger finds my spot, the one deep inside me, and I’m gone. I cry out incoherent words as my body convulses beneath his. I feel his tongue lapping at me. Everything is so intense that it’s like my world just went from black and white to technicolor in two seconds flat.

  When I finally re-emerge from my semi-vegetative state, Lincoln’s face is over mine. His lips and chin are wet from me, and I can smell my arousal on him.

  “Do I need a condom?” he asks me. “You know…” He trails off because I know every damned thing about this man, including that his full annual physical two weeks ago came back with perfect results. And he hasn’t had a date since then.

  I shake my head. “I’m on the pill,” I state.

  I feel his hard length at my entrance. He slides it up and down until I feel his cock is on some sort of slip-n-slide ride, but I just want it inside me. When I’m about to tell him that, he leans in and kisses me as his erection plunges inside me.

  I cry out into his mouth. My B.O.B.s apparently are not the size of him. It burns for a moment, and then I feel him. I clench my muscles around him.

  “Please tell me you’re OK,” he says softly against my lips.

  I grin. “I’m OK.”

  “Thank god, because if I don’t move, I’m gonna blow my load right now. Your pussy is fucking magical,” he says with a groan as he moves his cock.

  I’m momentarily disoriented as he thrusts in and out of me, taking me to another place, another time, another universe. I’m mildly aware that he’s kissing my jaw, my neck, and my lips, but I’m so consumed with the friction between our most intimate parts that I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.

  I grip his upper arms, trying to grasp something, anything that will keep me grounded.

  “Let go, baby bird, fly away,” he whispers against my lips as he does something magical down there. He grinds his hips in such a way that he’s rubbing my clit and G-spot all at the same time. I’m in sensory overload. The smell of my arousal and his cologne mix in my nostrils. I can hear our heavy breathing as we both thrust against each other looking for our releases. I can taste the mint of his toothpaste on his teeth, and I can feel him, oh, how I can feel him. Every movement of him inside me is stroking a fire that’s quickly becoming an out-of-control raging inferno.

  He moves faster, and then I’m gone. It’s like I just jumped off a cliff and am flying high, sailing over the world and watching it from above. I feel free and exhilarated. My body is shaking, my muscles are undulating, and my voice is crying out incoherent things. He slams into me hard once more, and I feel his seed coat me. His head is back, his lips parted in a silent cry. It’s primal and something about it sates me. My independent self is momentarily forgotten, and I’m in pure bliss as this man of my dreams claims me.

  He thrusts several more times. Finally, he lies still on top of me. His weight on his elbows, his eyes searching mine.

  “Are you OK, my baby bird?” he asks me as he peppers my face with gentle kisses.

  I make some sort of “uh-huh” noise.

  He chuckles. “What was that?” he asks, licking my jaw.

  “Soooo good. But just so you know, I might never move from this bed again,” I tell him.

  “Good, because I don’t plan on letting you go,” he replies with a smirk and a wink. “Ever.”

  Lincoln

  Holding Lark in my arms feels like heaven. But I know we have to talk about what happened before she left me.

  “Lark?” I say to her after a few minutes.

  “Hmmm.”

  “I need to confess something,” I say, clenching my jaw because I fear her reaction.

  She opens her eyes and looks up at me.

  “I did it on purpose,” I admit, closing my eyes.

  “Did what?” she asks.

  “I made you leave,” I whisper.

  She shakes her head, not understanding me.

  “Gretchen…the…I did it on purpose because I knew you’d leave,” I say to her. Her eyes open wide, and she scoots away from me a bit, a look of hurt in her eyes.

  “W-why? Why would you do that?” she asks. The way she’s looking at me right now is killing me.

  I take a deep breath. “Because you deserved better than me. Because I heard you sing, and I knew if I didn’t make you leave, you’d never follow your dreams,” I say, my voice gravelly from my sincerity. I see the look of hurt on her face start to morph into something else.

  “But…” She trails off as she looks at me, and I can’t read her emotions.

  “I was…an asshole. I don’t know what I was thinking. I…there’s no excuse for my behavior, Lark. What makes it worse is that I care about you, I still care about you. I’m so, so sorry. I fucked up, and I don’t deserve you,” I say to her as I shut my eyes. It’s the feel of her hand on my cheek that has me opening them again.

  She searches my eyes. “I forgive you,” she says slowly, and with those three little words, she releases me from all my pent-up guilt, and I release a breath. “You’re right though, you were an asshole.”

  I laugh. “I was.”

  “But…you aren’t anymore,” she points out, and she’s right.

  “You make me want to be a better man, Lark,” I admit to her.

  She smiles. “You may be one messed-up rock star, but you’re my messed-up rock star,” she says as she leans in and kisses me. I’ve never been so relieved in my life. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m not going to let that chance go. And I’ll spend all night showing her how much she means to me.

  Chapter 26

  I wake to find the most amazing site ever, Lark sprawled out over me, a blanket half-covering us. I’m about to wake her with a kiss when there’s a clanging from downstairs. Lark pops up, and we both turn in time to see a blur of fluff skitter from the top step and into my room.

  I don’t even have time to say anything before Asher is jumping on the bed and licking us.

  Lark laughs. “I don’t think that puppy gate works.”

  “You think?” I ask her as Asher pounces on me. I groan as his foot presses on my dick. “Dude, easy with the family jewels.”

  “Asher! Careful! I may need to use that later,” Lark says, her laughter picking up a few notches. Pretty soon we are both in hysterics with tears streaming down our faces. I’m not even entirely sure why. Asher grabs my blanket in his teeth and shakes his head back and forth.

  “Asher!” we both yell before falling back on the bed in more hysterical laughter. We end up wrestling around with the puppy until he settles down between us and starts nodding off to sleep.

  “I wish I could sleep like that.”

  I laugh at Lark’s statement. “It’d be nice,” I reply as I stroke Asher’s soft fur.

  Lark falls back on the pillow next to me. “I needed a good laugh,” she states as our hands touch on top of Asher. “He’s a good puppy.”

  Asher’s ears perk up at her words. “And clearly a smart one,” I say, and his head turns toward me. Lark giggles.

  “Who’s a good boy?” she says in a silly voice reserved for animals and babies. Asher’s head spins toward her, and he pants with a tongue hanging out of his mouth. Lark leans down and kisses his head, and he licks her face.

  “We should probably feed him.”

  I look over at the clock. Lark’s right, we slept in, but Maria comes in late today.

  “Go get in the shower, I’ll get him fed,” I say to her. She opens her mouth but quickly closes it. I hope she isn’t having second thoughts about last night. Last night sealed the deal for me. I thought she was the one before, but now I know she is. She’s fucking mine, and I don’t care if I’m bad for her, I will do whatever I can to make her life amazing.

  I’m deep in thought about this while standing up to grab a pair of shorts when my phone rings. I look down and frown, it’s my mom, and she never calls this early.

  “Mom?” I answer.

  “Lincoln. I’m sorry to call so early, but I didn’t know who else to call. I’m at the hospital with Dad,” she says, her voice quivers, and I know she’s upset.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask as I sit down and run a hand through my hair, my nerves increasing with each breath because in our family the word “hospital” isn’t said lightly.

  “He got up in the middle of the night and was complaining of chest pain. I called for an ambulance. They are running a bunch of tests. I didn’t want to call until I knew he was alright,” she says.

  “Wait. Slow down, Mom. Was he having a heart attack? What are the doctors saying?” I ask her.

  She sniffs, and I know she’s really upset. “What hospital are you at?” I ask her.

  “County General,” she answers.

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “OK,” my mom whispers. I hang up and stare at my phone for a moment. I suddenly feel Lark’s hand on my shoulder.

  “Lincoln? Is everything OK?” Lark asks, her voice filled with concern.

  “It’s my dad. Can you feed Asher?”

  “Your dad?” she asks, following me into the bathroom, Asher on her heels.

  “He’s at County General. They think he might have had a heart attack.”

  “Oh god! I…let me feed Asher, I’ll come with you,” she says, scrambling out of the room. Asher follows her.

  I take the fastest shower ever, cursing myself for the fate of the universe. Why now? And why my dad? Lark’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

  “Lincoln? I fed Asher and let him out. Maria should be here soon. I called her, and she’s on her way. I let Kade and Harry know. I hope that’s OK,” she says softly.

  I turn to her. She’s wearing nothing but my t-shirt.

  “Come in. You should grab a shower, too,” I say to her. She slowly removes the shirt, and I hold out a hand to help over the rim of the shower. Once she’s inside, I pull her against me. She wraps her arms around my waist.

  “I’m sorry. I hope your dad is OK,” she says, looking up at me.

  “Me too. I’m sorry we can’t lie in bed, so I can make love to you again,” I say to her as I nuzzle her nose with mine. She gives me a small smile.

  “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up, so we can get to the hospital. Your family needs you,” she says to me as she reaches for the body soap.

  Lark

  Lincoln is quiet on our drive to the hospital. I wish I could fix this for him. I wish I could fix so many things. I’m consumed with conflicting thoughts, especially after last night. I’m not sure what I want to do. We’re supposed to go meet Tiffany today, but who knows if that’ll happen. I still don’t know if I want to meet with Roger. And now I’m worried about Lincoln’s dad.

  Lincoln doesn’t spend much time with his parents. I know it’s hard for him, but his parents love him. I’ve seen it in the way they watch him when they come to a show. Or how they look at him when we are visiting with them on holidays. They are the kindest people. Always inviting strays like me over for Christmas and Thanksgiving. I know they miss Carrie, but I also know they love Lincoln so very much. I wish that all three of them could heal over her death and move forward.

  When we arrive at the hospital, we’re shown to a private room. Lincoln’s dad, Eric, is in the bed and his mom, Margie, sits in a chair next to him.

  “Hey,” Lincoln says. I stand by the door, preparing myself to wait in the hallway.

  “Lark, come on in,” Eric says from the bed.

  I step inside. “How are you feeling?” I ask him.

  “OK. I think I just had a bought of anxiety,” he says nonchalantly.

  “Eric, dear, we don’t know that yet,” Margie reminds him, her voice clearly filled with concern.

  “What are the doctors saying?” Lincoln asks.

  “They ran some tests. We should know soon if it’s a heart attack. Then we can figure out what’s next,” Margie explains.

  “Well, any idea when you’ll get the results back?” I ask them.

  “No, it could be a few hours,” Eric says. I nod.

  “I’m just going to go for a walk then if you don’t mind. I’ll be back,” Lincoln says. I look at him unsure of what to do. I know waiting for test results is scary, but it’s odd that he’s chosen right now to go for a walk.

  “Sure, dear. We’ll be here,” Margie says.

  “I…do you need anything?” I ask them.

  “No, we’re good,” Eric says.

  I don’t know what possesses me to follow Lincoln as he walks out of the hospital. I don’t understand his mindset. If it were my dad, I’d stay there and wait, but Lincoln isn’t me.

  He meanders through the streets like a pro, which make sense because he grew up here. The hospital is on the edge of his neighborhood where his parents live.

  His parents are so kind. They seem supportive, but there’s always tension between Lincoln and them, and I don’t know why. I’ve never asked because I’ve never felt it’s my place to ask. I know it must have been tough for him after his sister passed away, but that doesn’t explain all the tension between them.

  We walk past his neighborhood to a small church on a side street. I think he’s going to go inside, but instead, he walks around back toward the cemetery. I keep my distance, walking several rows back from him as he walks with purpose toward a small grave. He stops, and my heart shutters. I know it’s Carrie’s grave before I even read her headstone. He sits down in front of it, placing his hand on the top of it. I can hear him talking softly, and when I see him wipe away a tear, my heart shatters into a million pieces.

  I don’t know what possesses me to walk toward him, but I do. When I reach him, I stop, unsure of what to say.

  “Why’d you follow me, Lark?” Lincoln asks in a gruff voice, heavy with emotion.

  I take a breath and sit down next to him. I look at Carrie’s grave. She was fourteen when she died. I know that, but I’ve never been to her grave before now and seeing the dates on it make her age seem so…real.

  I place my hand on Lincoln’s arm. “I wanted to make sure you’re OK,” I say quietly.

  He wipes another tear from his cheek. I just want to pull him into an embrace and kiss his tears away, but I can’t. I’m just his friend…well, his friend who had amazing sex with him last night, his friend with a giant crush on him, his friend who is in love with him.

  “I’m as OK as I can be,” he admits.

  “Tell me about her,” I say. I’ve known this man for over four years now, and he’s never once talked about Carrie besides telling me she died of cancer and he turned to music to deal with it. I’ve never pried because I’ve always sensed that this was a very difficult thing for him to discuss.

  He puts his hand over mine and squeezes it. “She was funny, really, really funny. And was always happy, even as a baby I remember her being so fucking happy. No matter how many horrible treatments she had, she was always smiling. She was really good at Mario Kart. She used to kick my ass at it all the time. She loved reading, loved playing the piano, and she could sing. She was my best friend,” he says as another tear rolls down his cheek. “I miss her every fucking day,” he whispers.

  I lean my head on his shoulder. “I’m sure she’d be really proud of you, Lincoln,” I say to him. I feel him lean his head on top of mine.

  “She’d have been in the band,” he says with a small laugh. “Probably running this shit.”

  I laugh. “I think I would have liked her.”

  “I think she would have liked you, too,” he says.

  “Let’s go to your house,” I say to him. He looks at me in confusion.

  “Your parents’ house,” I clarify.

  “I…” He trails off.

  “Come on, I have a spare key. Your mom dropped it off a long time ago. I keep it on my key chain in case you ever need me to drop something off,” I explain.

  His eyes widen. “You really are an amazing PA,” he says, standing and holding out his hand for me.

  I shrug. “I just like to be ready for anything,” I say to him.

  He doesn’t let go of my hand as we walk toward his childhood home. When we reach the front door of the ranch house with a carport, I hand him the key and he unlocks the door. I follow him toward the back of the house and down a hallway where he pauses in front of one door and then goes to another.

  He opens it, and I gasp. I’ve never been in here before. It’s Carrie’s room, and it’s a shrine. It looks like the room of a fourteen-year-old girl about ten years ago. There are posters on one wall and a bulletin board/dry erase board with notes and other miscellaneous items. The furniture looks antique, but the décor looks quintessential teenage girl. I walk over to a shelf and peruse her books. I glance over to see a keyboard with a music book open to Phantom of the Opera. I turn to Lincoln who stands at the doorway watching me intently.

  “You’re right. I think Carrie and I would have liked each other,” I say in agreement.

  He runs a hand through his hair. “I never come in here,” he admits.

  “Why?” I ask him.

  “It’s just…it’s too hard. It’s like a punch in the gut every time I open this door. I don’t understand why they won’t just give away her stuff and let her go,” he says.

  I walk over to him. “She was their baby. They’ll never let her go, just like you’ll never let her go,” I say. “She’s always going to be a part of all of you.”

  I see his face go from distraught to angry. He pounds a fist on the doorframe. “It’s just fucking not fair!” he yells. “She was only fourteen!”

 

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