That Girl (That Girl, #1)(28)

I prop myself up and look into Lincoln’s eyes. His scent overwhelms my senses, and my feet ease up and relax a bit.

“Watch me. I just wanted to kiss from your lips down to your toes. Tell me to stop if you want me to, but don’t run.”

I watch as Lincoln places another kiss right below my belly button, and then another, and then one more at the juncture of my thighs. Even with a panty barrier, I feel every sensation. Nothing dirty or wrong, just Lincoln consuming every inch of my body. Then I giggle when he hits the inside of my thigh. Apparently, I’m very ticklish there.

“Thank you,” he says few moments later, kissing the tip of my big toe.

We both laugh as Lincoln tries to shimmy my shorts up my legs while I’m lying down. He finally pulls me up and buttons them.

“Fuck,” he growls. “We may need to stay here tonight.”

“Stop.” Weeks ago that comment would’ve sent me in a tailspin, but now I know it’s simply a comment. “Now, pick the shoes.”

I have all six pairs of my shoes lined up on my dresser.

“Well, let’s see,” he says, “flip-flops or flip-flops, sneakers, or these sexy-ass wedges.”

“Those are Jenni’s. She insisted I have them about a month ago because she was sick of my Old Navy flip-flops.”

“Wedges,” he replies. “We’re going to need to buy you a pair of snow boots before winter hits.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m the master of walking in snow with shit shoes. Wisconsin ain’t for the weak of heart.”

It all leaves my mouth before I even know what I’m saying. Lincoln senses the fear in my eyes and completely avoids the topic.

“Feet, my princess,” he says, bending down and holding the wedges out, “I love the tattoo on your foot. One day I want to know the story behind it.”

I watch as he straps each shoe onto my feet. “Okay,” I say in a trance from the sensations of his fingers touching my skin.

I’m way more than normal tonight with my light makeup, lacy shirt, tight-ass shorts, and lady ‘hawk.

“Have I ever told you that you’re f*cking gorgeous?”

“Not that I recall,” I joke back.

Lincoln twirls me in his arms so my back is to his chest, whips out his phone, and is poised to take a selfie.

“I know you hate these, but I have to have one of us tonight.”

He snaps a couple before I reach up and kiss him on the lips. I hear his phone snap another picture before it begins to ring again. Not the coach’s ring, just the general ringtone.

“We better get going before they send the search party,” Lincoln says. “Oh, and I almost forgot, this is for you.”

Opening the department store bag, I see a swimsuit.

“I bought two and hid one in the truck in case you slash this one up.”

He heads for the door; I grab my purse and hope like hell the suit covers more than it exposes. “Lincoln Wilks, it better be a one piece.”

“You wish.”





Chapter 10





Standing at 1,014 Miles



“I can’t do this, Lincoln.”

“Yes, you can.”

We pull into a structure that resembles a hotel and is overpopulated with lots of college students. Groups of them flock around the pool talking, sunning, and some are even already in the water.

I try to talk myself into believing the more people, the less I get noticed. The easier it will be for me to blend into the crowd.

Lincoln reaches for me. “Stop overthinking this, Oakley. I’m here, I have you, and I’m f*cking jacked to show you off to all my teammates.”

His hand pulls me up into his lap, I wrap my arms around his neck, and we meet nose to nose.

“Pizza.”

“It’s just pizza, Oakley.”

I think about the swimsuit – or swimsuits – stashed in the truck. “I’m not sure about swimming.”

“That’s fine, just no running.”

“No running,” I promise.

A loud slamming noise jolts our attention toward the window. A swarm of massive men are huddled around the passenger door. And when I say massive, I mean gigantic, tall, wide, and very big.

“What are those?” I yelp.

Lincoln lets out a loud laugh and replies, “Those are my boys. The ones who try to f*ck up the QB, so I can catch an interception.”

“So, they’re safe?” I’m skeptical.

“Very, baby. C’mon let’s go.”

I watch as Lincoln opens the door, and I want to puke, shit, and then run. Three feelings I’ve never had at the same time. So many strange faces, and they are all staring right at me. I’m nearing fight-or-flight mode when Lincoln whirls me around and places me on the ground right in front of him. I’m a dwarf compared to the crowd standing before me. Man hugs all around, fist bumping, and head nods everywhere. You’d think royalty just pulled in the way the men react to Lincoln.

In a sudden swoop, I’m wrapped up in the arms of one of the biggest men.

“This must be her. Any girl good enough to steal away our boy every night deserves a big ol’ hug.”

“Put her down, dammit,” I hear Lincoln order.