The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(84)

When he came out of the bathroom wearing only a towel low on his hips, his hair still damp, her mouth watered.

He smiled at her sprawled on the bed. “Is that an invitation?”

She snorted and closed her eyes against the ache that the sight of him caused deep inside her. She’d tried seducing him with her favorite lingerie, but once again life had distracted him. Now here she was at her absolute worst, and he was being playful and sexy. “If it was an invite, would you notice?” she asked.

He set a knee on the bed, eyes dark and heated. “Oh yeah.”

“You didn’t notice the other night.”

He crawled up the bed. “Babe, I always notice you.”

She put a foot to his chest to halt his progress. “What was I wearing?”

“A hot-as-shit pale peach silky nightie that I wanted to take off with my teeth.”

A happy shiver bolted through her, and she dropped her foot and closed her eyes. “So why didn’t you?”

“Because I was busy traumatizing our daughter and stealing her childhood by letting her know that the tooth fairy and Santa Claus weren’t real. Mindy . . .”

Something in his voice had her eyes flying open. He was giving her an odd look, like he was seeing something for the first time. “You really think I don’t want you anymore?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I get it.”

“Do you?” he murmured.

“Yes, of course!” She tossed up her hands. “I’ve had a bazillion babies. I’m not the young hot chick anymore. I’ve got stretch marks, and I’m cranky because I’m always on a stupid diet because stupid food goes right to my stupid ass now. And, um—” She broke off because he had slowly loosened his towel and tossed it on the floor. “Um . . .” She blinked. “I can’t remember what I was saying.”

Pulling her beneath him, he shot her a knowing grin. “You’re right, you were the young hot chick. But you’re even hotter now, with a real woman’s body. I love it. I even love your crankiness. And I love you, Mindy.”

He said it in the same unhesitating tone he reserved for all truths: The night is dark, rain is wet, and Linc loves Mindy.

“And when I told you I was going to fight for this, for us, I meant it.” He ran his mouth along her jaw to her ear and gave it a light nip with his teeth. “Do you remember our first time?” he asked, voice husky, ignoring her attitude, clearly understanding that she wanted to be seduced, understanding that even that had become her responsibility in the marriage. He let his lips brush just behind her earlobe. It was her favorite spot to be teased, which he knew damn well. “Because I remember it. Kiss me, Min.”

“I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“I don’t care.”

She knew it was true because he was looking at her like she’d just hung the moon and the stars. For a whole lot of years, she’d felt that at any moment he might realize where he was, and with who, and leave her. But he never had. For whatever reason, Linc wanted her, and she decided she wasn’t about to try to change his mind. But she did want to be clear about one thing. “Perfect Mindy is long gone,” she said. “You know that, right?”

“I don’t want Perfect Mindy,” he said. “I want Trash Can Mindy.”

She frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Do you remember our first kiss?”

“Yes,” she said. “It was in fourth grade. You kissed me on the playground because Kenny Reddick dared you to. He’d been daring you since second grade, but it took you two years to get serious. I slugged you in the eye and got in trouble.”

He grinned. “That wasn’t a real kiss. I’m talking about our first real kiss.”

She remembered that, too. They’d been in ninth grade, and by that point had been in a love-hate relationship for years: She could beat his ass in any track-and-field event, and he could explain biology and chemistry to her in a way she could understand. But nothing had ever happened between them.

He’d had a growth spurt that year, and suddenly their friendship had taken a turn, at least on her part. She’d started noticing things, like how he laughed, the way he looked at her, the fact that he smelled so good when all the other guys his age did not. And then there’d been his mouth. He had a great mouth. All her friends had already had their first kisses, and other firsts, too, and she’d had nothing.

She’d wanted him to kiss her, and when she’d told him so, he’d laughed. She might have killed him right then, but he’d leaned in and, still hugely amused, said that kissing her was all he’d thought about since elementary school.

That had taken a moment to set in. He hadn’t been laughing at her, but at himself. And all that time he’d wanted to kiss her, too.

Naturally, that’s when the bell had rung for homeroom. In those days, school had ruined her life on a daily basis. But he’d been waiting for her after school, standing across the parking lot, leaning on a lamppost. She’d locked gazes with him and started walking his way, and then—

“Halfway to me, you walked into that trash can,” he said.

Yep. That was exactly what had happened. She’d fallen over and into the trash can.

“That’s the Mindy I want,” he said. “The one who allowed herself to be human. I don’t want a perfect person as my wife. I just want someone to be silly with, someone who loves being with me more than anything else.”