The room was medium-sized with wood floors and walls. A black comforter covered the bed and framed pictures of outdoor scenes covered the walls. There her painting was; above the bed like he’s said; a forest of trees in browns and greens. Her heart gave a twinge as she looked at it, wondering how often Lincoln looked at it; wondering if he looked at it to feel closer to her.
The room carried Lincoln’s scent and that of laundry detergent. She shivered though it was warm in the room. Sara stared at his broad back as he folded a shirt and put it in a dresser drawer, her stomach swirling as she waited for him to notice her. It didn’t take long. Sara had never realized before how Lincoln always seemed to know when she was near before anyone else did.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Why are you here?”
Those magnetic eyes locked on hers, causing her insides to quiver. They were dark with an unnamable emotion. Why was she there? Because she couldn’t stay away. Sara opened her mouth, only the sound of her hurried breath leaving her, faint and raspy. Words failed her.
“What is it, Sara? What do you want?”
“I…” she trailed off, not sure how to voice what it was she wanted.
“You told me to leave you alone. So I am. Why are you here?” he repeated, enunciating each word slowly, as though to make sure they registered in her head.
What did she say? Sara didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know why she was there; she only knew she couldn’t stay away any longer.
“I didn’t—I didn’t say that.”
“You did. You said it when you didn’t call me, when you didn’t come here, when you said nothing; when you left without even a goodbye. You told me to leave you alone without saying a single word. So…what do you want?”
Their eyes connected and Sara couldn’t breathe. Lincoln had made it easier for her to breathe since her world had fallen apart not once, but twice. This time, though, he made it impossible to. There was heat in his flint-colored eyes and in the tense set of his jaw. Sara pushed everything from her mind; all thoughts, anything that could remind her of the past, of what used to be, of all she’d lost and would never have again. Instead she thought of what she had now.
“Make it go away. I need you. Please. Make it all go away,” she whispered, her eyes pleading, but her head angled proudly.
Lincoln stared at her, a noticeable tick in his jaw. His shoulders were slightly hunched and his face went completely devoid of expression. Sara thought he was going to turn away, reject her. Her heart ached at the thought. She would die if he did. Sara wouldn’t recover from the rebuff, not at this moment, not when she needed someone the most. Him; Sara needed him. She told him with her eyes what she would never be able to say with her lips.
With a soft curse Lincoln reached for her, his muscled body slamming into hers, shooting sensations through her, forcing her body to life. His grip was tight, suffocating, and Sara wanted it to smother it all away; kill the remorse and pain, make it no longer exist. Maybe for this one moment it was possible. Lincoln needed her as much as Sara needed him. She knew by the way his heart pounded against her chest, she could tell by his grip that clung to her as much as it held her. Who was saving whom? Maybe they were saving each other.
She entwined her fingers in his silky hair and jerked his head toward hers, his chest heaving against hers as their lips ensnared one another’s. Sara’s legs went weak when he moaned low in his throat. His hands on her, rough and warm, up and down her back, squeezing her outer thighs, made her weak with longing. Lincoln spun them around and the back of her legs hit the bed. They fell onto it, their lips still locked. His mouth was gifted, tugging and sucking and loving hers. So long. It had been so long.
His weight was heavy and welcomed. Sara sighed against his lips at the feel of it. His hardness fit with all the soft parts of her and she let go; Sara left her reality to cherish this moment; to revel in all that was Lincoln. His unshaven jaw chafed her neck as he teased her sensitive skin with his lips and teeth.
There was no room for her husband here and that’s how it had to be. That’s how Sara wanted it to be. She’d hate herself later. There was no time for it now. It felt right with Lincoln. How could it feel so right?
Lincoln pulled back just far enough to question her with his eyes. If he asked her if she wanted him to stop, if he looked at her like that too long, she’d lose her courage. She’d leave. Sara would forsake this moment of reprieve to wither away in the suffering that followed her everywhere.