As Ebony trembles against me, though, I sense this isn’t just about Hillary and Julian’s affair. It’s the blog pictures and that rage-bait headline, too. The confirmation of all the levers sheknewCornelia was pulling behind the scenes.
“Open your eyes, baby. Look at me.” She’s in my arms, but distance is wedged between us. I can’t stand here, helpless, doing nothing. “What did you say to me when we were in Dawsonville, hmm?”
“Linc, I might just need some space to think—”
“About what?” The words rush out, urgent and drenched with every emotion and insecurity I feel right now. “Honestly, fuck Julian, and fuck Hillary, too, if she can do that to you and still bring herself around like nothing. And Cornelia sets off a smear campaign, and what? We lose? No, I just got you back.” A humorless laugh huffs out of me. “This is our alternate timeline.Weget to choose this version of us.”
Ebony drops her forehead to my chest, her whole body sagging and weighed down.
Anger and anxiety flare in my gut. “You know what you said to me in Dawsonville, Ebony? You said we can’t let her win, right?” I swallow back the emotion thickening in my throat, making it hard to breathe. My lungs constrict. My heart wrenches. Every inch of my skin pulses with the fear of losing Ebony again, as if it’s urging me to say something,anythingto convince her we belong together. That I’m enough. Together, we’re enough.
But I don’t rush her.
I shake my head, still lost in my thoughts, a mix of powerlessness and anxiety swirling in my gut. The weight of it, the ache—it steals my wind. Rather than intrude on her moment, and even though I’m losing the battle with temptation, I let her feel everything coursing through her. I let my patience gnaw at me.
“Yeah.” She bites her lip softly. “I said it.”
I breathe.
“Mm-hmm. She could smear your name, you said.” I take a small breath. “But she couldn’t take me away from you again.”
Her lips quiver.
“And what did I say?” I ask. “Please remember, baby.”
A somber smile slowly curves her lips. She rests her warm hand on mine. “That you were mine if I wanted you.”
I lower my gaze to our hands, nodding.
A warm breeze sweeps over us, gently tousling her hair and carrying the scent of fresh grass and magnolias.
“That’s right.” A rush of relief floods through me, and I choose my next words carefully. “I meant every word. I’ll always want you, Ebony. As long as I live. I would never lie or hurt you. And I’m damn sure not letting Cornelia Livingston take you away from me either. Ineedyou.” My voice thunders, tense and tortured to my own ears.
Her hands slip around my waist, and I lower my forehead to hers, gently resting my fingertips on her face as I hold her gaze, letting the intensity of the moment overwhelm me. Fire singes the corners of my eyes. “Ineedyou, baby,” I whisper, again with every ounce of desperation coursing through me.
Tenderly, I kiss her lips, taking my time, sinking into the familiar warmth and wetness of her mouth, connecting us in a way words never could.
She exhales, and it feels like coming home as she drags her tongue over my lips, teasing and tasting. I deepen the kiss, loving the way her eyes glaze over with lust, and the tiny, insatiable moans that seep out of her. Her needy hands set free on my body are like fire, igniting my skin through the thin fabric of my shirt, welding the tiny, cracked pieces of my heart.
My entire body vibrates to our rhythm.
“My question for you, baby, before you get me too excited out here”—I chuckle, sinking into the lightness—“is what are we going to do about it, huh?” I whisper against her soft mouth. “Are we just going to continue allowing this vindictive woman writeournarrative, painting us as villains?”
“Or…?” she asks, the first flickers of hope radiating from her hazel irises.
“Okay, hear me out.” I tilt my head, my eyebrows raised. “We let her go low, and instead of us going lower—”
“We take it to hell?” Ebony giggles.
Tipping my head to either side, I say, “Trust me, after her weak-ass son tried to come at me sideways back there, I’m more than tempted. He quickly found out, but that’s beside the point. No, what I’m saying is—we getChronicle…” I cock my head slightly, willing her to catch my drift.
A real, unguarded smile spreads across Ebony’s face, the kind that makes my heart full. It’s a “let’s make them play” sort of smile that reaches right into my chest and squeezes.
Yes!
This is what I love so much about this woman. Our connection isn’t just deep because of our roots. It’s more. She can look at me, and immediately it’s clear we’re communicating on another plane. We bring out the best in each other.
It’s the slight dip of her chin, and the widened eyes, as she subliminally absorbs my entire plan.
