Desire Collection: August 2017 Books 1 - 4. Rachel Bailey
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СКАЧАТЬ I’m not a jewelry-wearing type of guy. This was Connor’s ring. I was with him, the day he discovered this stone,” Linc explained, his voice low.

      Beneath the lust hovering between them, she heard nostalgia and longing in his voice as he shared an incredible memory. Yes, of course she wanted to explore his fabulous body, but she didn’t mind taking a stroll through his amazing mind. “Tell me more.”

      “It was about six months after we moved in here, and I was recovering from chicken pox. I was better, but the doctor insisted that I stay home, and I was bored out of my mind. I couldn’t believe it when Connor invited me to attend an estate sale with him, somewhere upstate. He bid and won this box of what was mostly costume jewelry. But amongst the junk was a stunning ruby pendant and this ring. Connor was beside himself, alexandrite was his favorite stone, and the ring slid onto his finger as if it were made for him. He never took it off until the day he died.”

      “And you inherited it.”

      Linc’s big shoulders rose and fell. “He was my dad, the only dad I knew. Or wanted. He never married, but, with my mom’s help, he raised four kids and made us feel loved every damn day.”

      “And he and your mom?”

      Linc smiled. “They were best friends, and she was devastated when he died, but nothing, as far as I knew, sparked between them.”

      “And she had no problem with him adopting you?”

      Linc shrugged. “I think she did in the beginning. But they worked it out. He wanted me as much as he wanted the others, and I was his son, with or without her permission. Connor convinced her that him becoming my dad didn’t stop her from being my mom.”

      Tate placed her hand on his knee and squeezed. “You must miss him.”

      “So damn much. He was my North Star, my magnetic pole. Funny, so smart, so full of life. He was, in so many ways, the glue that held us together. He was our charismatic, fearless leader.”

      “And now you’ve taken over that role,” Tate observed, thinking how much responsibility Linc carried on his big, broad shoulders.

      “Yeah, I suppose,” Linc replied, his voice scratchy with emotion.

      “And are you okay with doing that?”

      “Connor would expect it, and that’s reason enough. Though, admittedly, there are days when I’d like to run away.” Linc lifted his glass to his lips, and Tate noticed the slight tremble in his fingers. “While this family mostly, runs on discussion and democracy, the buck has to stop with someone, and that someone is me.”

      “Your siblings would probably disagree with that. And, to be honest, they look like they are very capable of running their own lives.”

      “They are,” Linc admitted. “And they do, but they all know that I’m standing behind them, ready to catch them if they fall. As for the company, I’ll protect the Ballantyne wealth and assets with my last breath.”

      He would, Tate realized. His son, his family and their loved ones, were at the center of everything Linc did. He existed to protect his family and the company his father had loved and created. But where did that leave his wants and desires? He was so busy giving that he rarely took, probably didn’t think that he had the right to be loved and protected and cherished himself.

      I could, if I was braver, less independent and not terrified of staying in one place, I could love him. I could give him what he needed.

      But, realistically, all she could give him was sex. Hot, intense, hopefully mind-blowing sex. Sex that he wouldn’t forget.

      Tate reached for a pink rose, plunked it on top of the last swirl of icing and ignored the last bare cupcake. She tossed the piping bag on the counter and pushed her hair off her forehead with the back of her wrist.

      She was done. She wanted a shower and this man. Now.

      Tate looked at Linc. “Shaw asleep?”

      He nodded.

      Tate gestured to the baby monitor. “So is Ellie.”

      Linc, not moving a muscle, just looked at her, his eyes blazing. Oh, God, was she going to have to spell it out for him? Maybe she could write Let’s Strip on the counter with pale pink icing. Tate held her breath as Linc dropped to his feet to stand so close to her that her breasts brushed his chest. He picked up a strand of her hair and twirled it between his fingers. She sighed when she saw the green icing from her hair now smeared on his fingers. “You’re a mess, Harper.”

      She agreed. “I know. I’ll go shower and—”

      “You’re a hot, sexy mess,” Linc murmured, ignoring her interruption. “You smell of sugar and chocolate and some perfume that drives me insane. You aren’t wearing a shred of makeup, yet your face looks like it should be on the cover of a fashion magazine.”

      Linc placed his hand on her cheek, and his thumb drifted across her cheekbone. Tate gripped his strong wrist as his sexy words flowed over her, into her, heating her blood and drying up the moisture in her mouth.

      Linc’s thumb moved to her mouth. “I can’t wait to touch you, taste you, to see you naked. I know that my fantasies will not match the reality.”

      Tate placed her hands on his chest and sucked in a deep breath. “All I need is a quick shower,” she begged.

      Linc bent his knees and in one fluid, easy movement, scooped her into his arms. Tate wrapped her arm around his neck, as she absorbed the heat from his hard, lean body. “You can shower later, sweetheart, preferably with me. I’ve waited too long for you. I’m not waiting any longer.”

      “But—”

      Linc ignored her protest and strode over to the couch, holding her close to him before allowing her feet to drift to the floor. “I need you, Tate. Now.”

      Since she sensed that Linc rarely, if ever, used need and you in the same sentence, she just linked her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes to brush her mouth across his. She couldn’t give him what he needed, deserved, on a long-term basis, but she could give him what he needed tonight. That she could do.

      “I’m here, Linc. Take me.”

      Linc, smart man that he was, didn’t need any further encouragement, and he quickly pulled her shirt up and over her head. Dropping the sticky garment to the floor, Tate watched his face as he looked down at her chest, his hands moving to cup her breasts in his big, masculine hands.

      “So pretty, Tate.”

      To Tate’s surprise, Linc lifted his hands from her breasts to tunnel his fingers into her heavy mass of hair, and he angled her face to receive his no-holds-barred kiss. Tongues tangoed as he devoured her mouth, learning her taste, her essence, silently telling her that he wanted more.

      That he wanted all that she had.

      Exhilarated by his passion and his low, guttural murmurs of appreciation, Tate undid the buttons of his shirt and pushed it open so that she could explore the hot skin of his wide chest, to discover the hard muscles underneath.

      So sexy, she thought, pure masculine strength. СКАЧАТЬ