Crap, we’re totally engaged. He’s totally hot. And I’m still totally panicking. Ugh.
Lincoln grips his fist behind his back and rocks on his heels. Long minutes tick by while I stare at him, scrunching my toes into the carpet, and feeling awkward as Hell. Every so often, I open my mouth, ready to finally start some kind of conversation. Each time I start to speak, Lincoln looks at me, an expectant gleam in his eyes. After that, I chicken out, close my yap, and go back to scrunching my toes.
This is the pits.
Lincoln scratches his neck with his hand. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Turning on his heel, he starts to leave. The sight snaps me out of whatever communicative funk I’ve been stuck in.
“Wait.” My hands ball and un-ball with nervous energy. “Here’s the thing. It all started when I was twelve.” I stare at him like that will make sense.
Lincoln leans against the doorjamb once again. “Go on.”
“The ghouls sent me to fight in the Arena. The first evil soul came for me and whoa, my wrath demon had to rip loose or I would’ve died. I’ve spent years getting to know my battle side. But my lust demon? I didn’t even know she existed until I met you.” My face burns with embarrassment. “I can’t even imagine how that must sound.”
Wow. Could I be a bigger loser? This whole experience is so cringe-worthy, it isn’t funny.
Lincoln steps closer. “I’m honored. Really.”
I set my betrothal jewels onto a nearby table and try to think of something cool—or at least not humiliating—to say in reply. Nothing comes to mind.
Lincoln takes another cautious step closer, like I’m a wild animal that could bolt any second. “What are you worried about?”
“Honestly, I have zero self control around you. First, I almost tackled you in the hedgerow maze. After that, it happened a second time, the other day in my room. Don’t get me wrong; I want to do things with you. Really. But I have no idea what’ll happen.” I wince. “My inner lust demon.”
Lincoln’s voice is gentle. “It’s like I told you before. I’m not worried. I don’t think she’ll be as crazy as you think. And if she is, I can handle it.”
“I don’t know. In my room, you got pretty carried away, too.”
Lincoln’s brows lift with surprise. “Did you ever see me lose control?”
“No.” And I liked that, too.
“Is my experience the problem? Does that upset you somehow?”
“Not at all. It’s good that one of us knows what they’re doing. You’re the first guy I ever…” I search his eyes, but he’s doing that unreadable-thing again with his face. Worry rises up inside me. Does he expect me to be experienced, too? “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I don’t know anything. I think about stuff a lot, when I’m alone. Well, I think about you, if you know what I mean.” I press my lips together, beyond embarrassed. That was the worst speech about sex and masturbation from someone who’s part lust demon, ever.
I straighten my spine. I’m the Great Scala; I can say this. “Here’s the thing. I don’t want to go too far. But I don’t think she feels the same way.”
Lincoln takes another step closer. “Leave her to me. How far do you want to go?”
“Not sex, but, you know, anything up to that.”
“All right.” He offers me a knee-melting smile. “But we don’t have to go that far, either. We’ll be together for a long time, Myla. I’d like to take things slowly. Is that okay with you?”
I exhale a shaky breath. “Sure.”
Another long pause follows, which I decide to fill with a too-fast laugh. “Why is this so weird all of a sudden?”
“May I make a suggestion?”
“Please.”
“You said that you thought about me when you’re alone.”
A blush crawls up my cheek. “Yeah.”
“What do you picture?”
“Us.” I look his way, catch his eyes, and look away again just as quickly. “In the stables.”
“After the Winter Tournament.”
“Yes, when you…” I mime-pinch my fingers like I’m giving a massage.
“Got it. Let’s start there.”
“What do you mean?”
“I never did finish that massage. Would you like me to now?”
I nod so fast, I’m shocked I don’t get whiplash. Yes, yes, yes.
Lincoln gestures to his room. “Perhaps we should move in here.”
More fast nodding.
I step past Lincoln and into his room. It’s a nice mix of modern and medieval with lots of brown and grey tones, accented by comfy leather chairs. “I like your place.”
“Thank you.” He gestures to the oriental carpet at the floor of his bed. “Why don’t you sit here?”
“Right, like I was at the stables.”
“Yes.” He hands me a blanket. “You’ll need to cover up again, like you did back then.”
Stripping down in front of Lincoln feels a bit advanced for me. A more intense blush crawls up my cheeks.
He covers his eyes with his hands. “I promise not to peek.”