Just One Moment (Just One Song #4) Read online

  My interest piques. "You gotta girl in your bed, brother?"

  "Shut up, asshole. Had a date that's going well."

  I grin. "Then I'll let you get back to it."

  "Right. Call Martin, Lynx. I'm not fucking with you. He'll help. He's been there."

  A knot forms in my throat. "See you tomorrow for dinner."

  I hang up before he can say anything else. He's told me about Dr. Martin for years. He helped Landon as soon as he got back to the States, but I've always been resistant to calling the guy. He's also a vet and lost a limb in Operation: Desert Storm. After he was discharged, he became a therapist in order to help other vets struggling with PTSD since it didn't get the attention it does today—which still isn’t nearly enough.

  I've never wanted to put a damn label on the shit I carry, but I know that that mentality has also prevented me from seeking help.

  I slide my phone into my back pocket and press the buzzer on Sarah's door.

  I'm breaking her only rule when she first agreed to our exclusive benefits arrangement: no Saturdays.

  I no longer give a shit about her rule. She didn't say anything last night about having to work today, but I assume she doesn’t if she spent the week in Minnesota.

  I didn't even realize she was from there.

  A quick Google search this morning about what she told me about last night confirmed it.

  Her dad was governor at the time of her car crash. As soon as I saw that, I felt sick for digging into her privacy and quickly closed the browser.

  I want Sarah to open up to me. I want to experience her life through her memories.

  "Hello?" A scratchy voice comes through the speaker and I grin.

  "Let me up, Sarah."

  "Lynx?"

  "Yeah, honey. I want to see you."

  There's a silence while I know she's thinking and debating. I've never shown up unannounced—especially not before eight in the morning.

  I almost feel like a prick for being so early, but I have to see her, just in case she does have to work today.

  "I brought donuts," I tell her, hoping that helps. "And juice for you."

  I learned in Vegas that she doesn't drink coffee.

  After spending three days with her there, I quickly realized she doesn't need the additional caffeine to get her going.

  She groans through the speaker and the security door immediately begins buzzing.

  I open it and take the stairway to her apartment. I’m not surprised at all when the door opens before I have a chance to knock.

  "Good morning." I grin and my eyes slide down her body. I haven't seen her in the morning since Vegas, and then she usually woke up naked, all messed from hours of sex.

  This morning she looks like her night was as rough as mine. Her blond hair sticks out in all directions and her eyes are framed with dark, puffy circles.

  "What are you doing here?" she asks and steps back to let me in.

  I lift the bag in my hand. "Told you. Brought you some donuts and juice."

  She rolls her eyes and closes the door behind me.

  I head straight to the kitchen, where I unpack the bag—six donuts because I didn't know what she'd like—and hear her bare feet tap against the wood floor behind me.

  "Lynx?" she asks when she stops at the other side of the counter. "Why are you here?"

  "This is delicious." I moan over the words. I’m not being overdramatic either. Donuts from Betty’s Bakery are the shit.

  Her eyes narrow into a frown when I put the donut to my mouth and take another bite.

  I wonder what she'd say or do if I were to tell her that right now, this very moment, with her bedhead hair and wrinkled pajamas, that I think she's the prettiest I've ever seen her.

  I decide not to risk it. Her knees are the perfect height to reach my balls.

  I slide the donuts toward her. "Have one." While she drops her gaze, I pick up her bottle of juice, open it, and set it in front of her.

  "Do you work today?" I ask when she picks up a chocolate donut with chocolate frosting and sprinkles.

  She eyes me warily before shaking her head. "I always take the week off when I have to go back to Minnesota."

  "Good. Eat up and get ready, then we'll get going."

  Her brow furrows. The donut she was getting ready to eat freezes in front of her mouth. "Huh?"

  I wipe the powdered sugar off my hands and brace them on her countertop. "I've got plans for us today."

  "I thought I told you last night we were done."

  "You did." I reach for another donut. "I said we were just getting started."

  "Started with what?" she asks, even more wary than earlier.

  I grin. "Friends. Grayson and Kennedy are too busy fucking like rabbits to remember the outside world exists, so I’ve decided I'm your new best friend."

  A strangled sound escapes her throat. "What?"

  I nod. "Yup. You and me." I cross my index and middle fingers together. "We're going to be close. Like this."

  She chokes on her juice and then wipes it off the edges of her mouth with the back of her hand.

  That one small move makes my cock twitch. It's not sexy at all, and neither is her confused look. Nor her too-big pajamas that hide her small frame and the flare of her hips.

  I don't care.

  The way she looks at me, like she really does want to kick me in the balls, is a fucking turn-on.

  I haven't thought my entire plan out since early this morning, but I know one thing.

  My life is better with her in it.

  I want to make hers the same with me.

  She shakes her head and gives me a small smile. "Lynx, this won't work. This is what I meant last night. Feelings are involved, and when that happens, I'm done. I can't do this."

  "You're wrong," I say. I reach out and wrap my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her toward me until I have to dip my head to speak into her ear. She shivers beneath me, and a surge of satisfaction rolls through me. "I'm going to make you fall for me. I'm going to make you need me. And then, when you're begging for me, I'm going to slide my cock inside your tight, warm pussy and you'll learn you can't live without me."

  “That won’t happen,” she insists.

  “Then perhaps we’ll just wait until after dinner.”

  She laughs against me and I feel that soft, terrified sound lodge a direct hit to my heart. "I think we should focus on the part about your dick being inside me.”

  I'm scared as shit, too.

  I don't know if I'll be able to give her what a man should fully give a woman—at the very least a warm, safe bed—but I'm damn willing to try.

  "We'll get there." My hand cups the side of her neck, and I trail my lips along her ear and down the side of the throat. I can't help myself. She smells sweet and tastes even better.

  My pulse speeds like a freight train completely out of control.

  "Trust me, Sarah.”

  She whimpers when I slide my tongue along her collarbone and stiffens before she tries to push away from me.

  "You can't just make yourself my new best friend."

  I press my lips firmly against her skin before I let her go. "Sure I can. I just did."

  As she steps back, I unashamedly adjust my hard cock.

  I want her to see what she does to me.

  She narrows her eyes at me, and I can see her open her mouth to object.

  I've already tried to talk myself out of pushing forward with her, and I didn't listen to myself. No way am I going to listen to her.

  I want this.

  I drop my mouth to hers in a firm, sure kiss, until I feel her body lean in for me. I pull back before I press this further than I want to right now.

  My goal is to get us out of the apartment. For the first time since we were in Vegas and went paintballing and dancing at a club, I want us to go do something fun.

  I want to make her laugh.

  "Best friends don't kiss," she mumbles.

  "You e
ver been best friends with a guy before?"

  "Of course not."

  I shrug. "Then how do you know?"

  She laughs and points her finger at me. Stepping back, she reaches for her donut with her other hand. "You're going to lose, Lynx. Whatever you're trying to do here won't work. I can guarantee it."

  "Ah." I tsk her with her tongue on my teeth. "That's where you're wrong, Sarah. I'm a fighter, a winner, and a champion. I never lose. Now eat up and get changed. We got plans."

  She scowls at me and shoves a large bite of chocolate into her mouth, and I know I've won.

  At least this round.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SARAH

  WHAT AM I doing?

  I've repeatedly asked myself this question since I went to my room and got dressed and ready for a day out with Lynx, just like he requested.

  Or demanded, because there wasn't so much a question in his tone when he told me to get ready.

  A part of me is curious to see what he's up to.

  The other part of me can't deny that out of anyone I've met, my attraction to Lynx tops the list.

  It's not just his bedroom skills, in which he excels, but it's the way his eyes glaze over a bit when he talks about his mom. Or the way he simply took care of me last night, even as I was trying to push him away.

  I've recently seen glimpses of the kind of man he is. I'm drawn to that part of him just as much as I'm drawn to the physical.

  I watch the streets below us fly by. We're on the train, destination unknown to me, and Lynx is sitting next to me. My hand is in his, resting on his thigh. We haven't spoken, yet I feel comfortable with him.

  It's terrifying.

  After the accident, I don't recall making a conscious decision not to get close to people. I’ve always thought it was an effect of being visibly judged and vocally condemned for not only the choices I made, but my mother's in trying to protect me.

  All my friends eventually stopped speaking to me, but I still don't know if that was their decision or mine, because I started avoided everyone.

  It became easier to cocoon myself in my house for my own protection.

  I’m not sure I've outgrown that—not when it comes to making deep relationships with people. Kennedy's a rare exception, even though I do have a decent relationship with my coworkers. It's not like I'm a hermit. I have friends.

  I just wouldn't say the relationships are anything deeper than surface level.

  With Lynx, everything is suddenly feeling different since last night. He seems to understand me in a way no one else does.

  It was only warm milk.

  But it speaks volumes to me.

  On instinct, my hand tightens around his, and out of the corner of my eye I see him turn toward me.

  "You okay?" he asks, and I realize that my breathing has sped up.

  I blink harshly and take a deep breath. Heat creeps to my cheeks as I look back at him. "Yeah. I'm good. Where are we going?"

  This time it's Lynx's cheeks that darken. "The zoo?"

  I laugh softly. "Is that a question or an answer?"

  He smiles, showing me a row full of white teeth. I know two of them are fake, having been punched out of his mouth during a fight, but you can't tell much by looking at him. For all the fighting and training he's done, he carries few scars, except for the long gash on his side that I've never had the guts to ask him about.

  "I thought we'd go to the zoo," he says, his voice sounding more confident—like the Lynx I know.

  I can't remember going to a zoo since I was a child. In the years I've lived in Chicago, I've done a lot of tourist attractions in an effort to explore the city, but the zoo always seems more family-friendly, and therefore something I've avoided.

  "Why?" I ask, hearing the shyness in my tone.

  Lynx shrugs. His hand wrapped around mine tightens. "Just thought it'd be fun. Maybe we'll see some monkeys humping."

  I laugh. "Only a guy would go to the zoo for that."

  When my laughter dies down and the sparkle in his eyes diminishes, he shifts toward me, leaning in closer.

  The sudden shift in his expression has my breath catching in my throat.

  "You okay today?" His eyes seem to inspect my features for honesty.

  I clear my throat. "After last night?"

  He nods. "Sometimes, when I've had a hard night, sleep is difficult."

  The question of what makes his sleep difficult is on the tip of my tongue.

  I fight it back. He might be searching for something more with me, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to allow it yet.

  He seems disappointed when I don't push him, when I don't ask the question burning in my mouth.

  "I didn't sleep well," I finally admit.

  It was impossible to. Between Lynx taking care of me and then telling me he already knew it wasn't just sex between us, he’d left me shaken. When I tried to fall asleep, I kept seeing his concern flash behind my closed eyelids and I tried to cling to that. But even then, it wasn't useful. Talking about my past always brings the darkness, and last night it hit me in full force.

  "Hey," he says, bringing me back to the present. His thumb comes up and swipes beneath my cheeks, and it's then that I realize I've started crying. "Let's go watch monkeys fuck."

  The absurdity makes me snort and I shake my head.

  How does he know what I need to lighten the mood? It's uncanny.

  "All right, Lynx. But they're really probably apes, not monkeys."

  ***

  The monkeys do fuck. A lot.

  Somehow, we were fascinated watching the Japanese snow monkeys going at it, and for eternity I will refuse to admit it, but it was Lynx who needed to pull me away from the macaque exhibit while he hissed in my ear, "I had no idea you were such a kinky voyeur."

  I had elbowed him in the ribs, sure I didn't do actual damage when he feigned a groan, and then pulled him toward the pool to watch the sea lion show.

  We walked around the zoo for hours, holding hands and laughing at the animals, and trying to avoid the crying kids and frazzled parents.

  I can't remember the last time I've laughed so much, or so hard.

  When a goat tries to chomp down on Lynx’s hand at the petting and feeding area, I lean over and clutch my stomach, tears streaming down my face.

  I’m still trying to regain control of myself when my phone rings.

  "Hey, chica, qué pasa?" I say, answering the phone.

  From the other end of the line, Kennedy laughs. "What are you doing today? Working?"

  "Um. No. Actually." I look at Lynx and smile. I’ve had a fun day with him. He even bought me three corn dogs and didn't say a word when I scarfed them all down. "Lynx and I are at the zoo."

  A choking sound comes through the phone before Kennedy clears her throat. "I'm sorry. What? The reception must be bad. I swear I heard you say you and Lynx are at the zoo."

  "We are, smartass. What do you want?"

  "Grayson and I are heading out to dinner. He wants to see a band and watch the game at some pub near his place. Do you want to join us? I feel like I've barely seen you lately."

  I snort. "That's because you're never at your new house."

  "Hush, you," she chides and I feel my grin stretch wide.

  "Hold on," I tell her and look at Lynx. "Grayson and Kennedy are heading out to dinner later. Wanna join them?"

  "Yeah. I'll call Landon. He'll meet us out and we can all go." He winks and pulls out his phone. "It'll be like Vegas all over again."

  "Without the painful welts," I mutter, thinking of the bruises that covered my thighs and arms after we got done paintballing. Adrenaline must have blanked all the pain. I barely felt anything until the next day when I woke up looking like a well-loved punching bag.

  "Yeah," Lynx says, moving closer. "But the cleanup shower afterward made it worth it."

  "And...that's more than I need to know," Kennedy says into my ear. "I take it you two are in?"

  "Yup. Just text
me the place, and we’ll see you later."

  I hang up and watch as Lynx texts his brother.

  There's something manly about watching his fingers fly across the phone screen, and by the time he's done I'm feeling all warm and funny in places where I shouldn't be feeling warm and funny while in a public place surrounded by families.

  "You okay?" Lynx asks, his gaze roaming my face and body when he catches whatever expression I have.

  "Uh-huh." I nod. I think. I must.

  Lynx laughs softly and his hand snakes around to my lower back. He pulls me toward him quickly so I collapse against his chest. "How about before we go meet Legend, we swing by my place...for a couple hours."

  I whimper, shivering against him.

  How does he do this to me? It's not natural.

  “I thought you wanted to wait.”

  He looks at his watch and winks. “It’s been four hours.”

  As if that’s too long. I’m not going to argue with him.

  "Okay," I whisper right before his lips brush against mine.

  And I know, in this moment, that I might agree to anything he suggests—as long as I continue feeling this good whenever his hands are on my body.

  ***

  "Yes," I cry out as Lynx pulls me off him.

  I immediately miss the feel of him deep inside me when he shifts from underneath me and moves behind.

  "On your elbows," he whispers harshly, his breath panted.

  I slide forward and down, tipping my ass up in the air.

  The feel of his cock sliding through my crease and rubbing through my wetness makes my fingers cling to the sheets.

  "Please."

  He laughs softly. "You like this? Like the way I make you feel?"

  "Yes," I whimper. He feels fantastic. He always does.

  Today has been wild, frantic. Yet tender at the same time.

  Lynx has talked more than he normally does, telling me how good I feel, how sexy I am.

  It's almost like his grunted phrases are hiding something deeper—something I'm trying really hard to ignore, but I can still feel him slipping through my defenses.

  I shiver as he threads himself inside of me. My inner walls tighten to take in his thickness when his hand lands at the back of my neck.