“I love you,” she whispered brokenly.
He froze, his expression turning to granite. Lincoln slowly turned his gaze away to stare out the windshield. His jaw shifted as he inhaled deeply. “Do you mean that?” Lincoln asked roughly, eyes still trained straight ahead.
Sara wordlessly nodded, and then realizing he wasn’t looking at her, she reached for him. Her hand grasped his hard bicep and squeezed, needing him closer. With a groan, Lincoln grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him. “Tell me again,” he begged, burying his face into the crook of her neck, his fingers digging into her thighs, holding her like he feared she’d vanish if he released his grip on her. His body trembled and tenderness rushed through her.
“I love you, Lincoln,” Sara said, her voice clear and strong. She cupped his sharp jawline in her hands, the rough texture of his unshaven skin tingling against her palms, their eyes so close she saw the gold in them; so close she saw the raw need in them. “I think I love your eyes the most. The color, the shape, even your long, thick eyelashes. They’re silver and gold and I see your soul in them and I see myself in them as well. I love the way they spark to life in anger and humor; the way they’re always locked on me, wherever I am. Like you’re afraid if you look away I’ll disappear or you’ll lose me. You won’t, you know,” she added softly.
Lincoln swallowed. “Do you know how long I’ve longed to hear you say that?”
“That I love your eyes?” she teased.
“Yeah, that too. But that you love me?” Lincoln studied her face, his gaze searching.
“A long time?”
He took a shuddering breath. “You have no idea, Sara. None.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But I’m here now. And I’m yours.”
Their eyes locked. Sara felt the heat and hardness of his body beneath hers, the way the fiery warmth rolled off him and onto her, connecting them, intertwining them with desire and love; invisible tendrils sweeping through her and him, branding them as each other’s.
The opened windows of the truck let balmy air blanket them, marginally cooling the heat of their skin. She fit perfectly to him; her body the missing puzzle piece to make Lincoln whole and vice versa. Sara placed her hands on his firm chest and felt his heart thunder beneath her palm, focusing on that. So many times she’d listen to Lincoln’s heartbeat and centered herself in the steady thrum of it.
He threaded his fingers through hers, those smoky eyes never leaving hers as he declared, “You’re not leaving my sight for a very long time, not until I can convince myself you’re really here and mine, Sara. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully convince myself of those things, so get used to seeing me. A lot.”
Lincoln’s lips captured hers before she could respond, possessing them, possessing her, telling her that she was his; telling her what she already knew. He tasted like sweetly tart lemons and sunshine and her future. The emotions coursed through her veins, pulsed through her heart, and slammed out of her with all the passion of her being. It was right; she and Lincoln; they were right. She and Cole had been right, but she and Lincoln were right as well. Cole was her past; a past she would never forget, would always hold on to, but Lincoln was her present; her future, and she would hold on to that just as tightly.
***
Days and nights went by, turning into weeks. It was mid-September and it was still in the seventies during the day in Wisconsin. The nights cooled off considerably, letting Wisconsinites know the heat wouldn’t last much longer and to enjoy it while they could. Sara and Lincoln had decided to do so by taking the pontoon boat out on the Mississippi river. Sand bars full of green foliage and trees littered either side of the vast, brown water, boats anchored near them; people and children milling in the water and sand, looking like colorful specs as they boated past.
Lincoln’s eyes glinted silver in the sunlight as he shut the engine off in the middle of the river, jumping to his feet and reaching for her. He grabbed her hands, spinning her up and around as ‘Ho Hey’ by The Lumineers blasted from the boat radio. The pontoon boat gently swayed in the Mississippi river, the sun glared down at them. Sara laughed, feeling free in Lincoln’s arms. The scent of sunscreen lingered on her skin and his. His body was hot and hard against hers; desire flaring inside Sara with the smallest of touches from him.
No matter how long she stared at him, how often she touched him; how long she was in his presence; it wasn’t enough. Sara was learning to rejoice in each minute spent with him, to live them to the fullest, because no one ever knew when it would be the last. Instead of being sad about it, she was blessed by each smile he gave her, each hug that was hers, each night spent in his arms. Sara would hold each moment close to her heart and treasure it, like this moment.
He sang to her; his voice deep, slightly rough, and beautiful.
Their faces were inches apart, brown eyes locked with gray. Sara smiled as Lincoln smiled, his fingers entangled with hers. “I love you,” she told him.
Lincoln smiled a sweet smile, leaning his head down to kiss her. “I love you. Sometimes it’s hard to believe you love me back, finally. I’ve loved you for so long, so impossibly long. I thought that’s the way it would always be; me loving you, you being clueless.”
“Hey.” She jabbed his hard stomach. “I’m not always clueless.”
“Sometimes you are.”
Sara nodded. “I suppose I can admit that.”
He grinned, saying, “It feels like a dream, a really good dream.” Lincoln caressed her face, stroked her hair. He pressed a kiss to her temple.
“If it’s a dream, let’s hope we never wake up.”
“If it was a dream we’d be having a lot more sex.”
Sara snorted, looking up at the fiery ball that was the sun and quickly looking down, spots in her eyes. “Why do you love me?”
“Why do I love you?” he repeated, a frown between his brows. “I know what I love about you. I love your hair, I love the way your brown eyes light up when you’re excited about something. Your nose, your lips. Even that small scar above your lip. The way you eat chocolate—“
Lincoln closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. “I could watch you devour a chocolate bar forever. Really. I could. There’s something so sensual about your lips kissing it, tugging the chocolate into your mouth, the way your eyes close—“ Lincoln swallowed, running a shaking hand through his hair. “It’s hot,” he ended abruptly.
Her lips parted at the mixture of pleasure and pain on his face. That’s—“ She swallowed, tried again. “That’s not what I asked.”
He grinned. “I know. But I’m on a roll. Just go with it. I love your laugh, your smile, your sense of humor, your strength. I love the look on your face when you’re painting; you look completely lost, consumed; it’s the same look you have when I’m inside you. Like you’re shattered and whole at the same time. I love that look,” he said, his eyes darkening.
Abnormally hot, even with the sun shining, Sara said, “Stop talking like that. And don’t look at me like that either.”
“Why? Am I turning you on?”
“No,” she lied. “You’re getting off subject.”
“Okay, okay.” Lincoln exhaled noisily as he visibly fought for composure. “Why do I love you,” he mused.
Sara nodded, her hands clasped loosely on his narrow hips. “What made you love me?”
“Do you remember the first thing you said to me, the first time we talked?” he asked slowly, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger, gently tugging it.
She searched her brain, seeing a baby-faced young man with laughing gray eyes and a mocking grin. “You said something about serial killers. It wasn’t funny.”
Lincoln laughed. “You’re right. It wasn’t. I said my brother wasn’t one, but you didn’t know if I was or not. Something stupid and lame like that. I couldn’t think straight when I saw you, when I realized you were the girl I’d seen walking. It was the first thing that came to mind, what Cole had told me about your encounter with him. Your comeback was something like how I didn’t know about you either.”