Page 65 of Regrets

Ilook up at Penelope and brush the hair away from her face, holding my hand there, looking into her eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“That’s awfully nice of you to say, Linc.” She sits up, pulling me with her as she straddles my lap. Her hand moves to my cock, stiff and ready for her, placing it between her legs as she pushes forward, allowing only the tip inside. Her lips drag over my cheek and toward my mouth. “It could have something to do with me being totally naked and on top of you.”

I smile, my hands gripping her firm ass and moving her hips forward to accept all of me. Her hand moves to the back of my neck as her hips roll, eliciting a moan from between her full lips that I then kiss the hell out of.

Not wanting to let go of this moment.

The last couple of weeks have been fucking weird, but in a good way.

I’ve learned to hurt her less with words and more in the bedroom and have made sure that always ends up feeling damn good.

“You’re still fucking beautiful even when you’re not riding my cock.” My teeth nip at her neck and move to her nipples, tugging and sucking with just enough pressure that her head falls back and her hips move faster, edging toward her orgasm. “Although this does happen to be my favorite.”

“Linc,” I lift my head from her tits to look at her face as she pants, “just shut the hell up and fuck me. I’m going to be late.”

I grin, grasping her long brown hair, twisting it around my fist tightly and pulling her mouth to mine as we kiss and fuck toward yet another release.

P has been going to therapy twice a week since we got back from the lake house, and it’s been really good for her. The woman doesn’t fill her full of pills without trying to force her to face things, and Penelope actually seems to look forward to going.

I manage to get her to her appointment on time, but instead of staying there and waiting around for an hour, I drive back to the house. As I drive around the winding road that leads there, I have an actual, honest to God, smile on my normally broody face.

I’m just going with it, although I’m almost certain this seemingly lighter mood will no doubt be crushed by an anvil falling on my head, or hell maybe a plane will fall out of the sky and crush me.

Something.

When I approach my house, I see a black Lexus in my drive.

Well fuck. This can’t be good.

I park the car and walk up to my front porch, moving up the stairs, stopping at the top, staring at a pretty brunette I vaguely recognize but can’t place. The girl is dressed well in a designer dress and heels, her makeup flawless, and the necklace and watch she’s sporting costs more than most people’s car.

What the fuck?My eyes lower when I hear a cry next to her, coming from a carrier sitting at the girl’s feet. She lifts the blanket covering it and pulls out a baby boy, slipping a pacifier into his mouth as he coos happily in her arms.

She then turns back to me, her face showing her internal battle. “Lincoln?”

I nod slowly, unable to move. “Yes.”What is her fucking name? I know her name. V. It starts with a V.

She lets the baby rest against her chest as her eyes water, and I watch her swallow and then take a shaky breath. “I’m Vivienne Crenshaw.”

Crenshaw. Fuck.Yeah, I know that name. Her dad fucking owns a shitload of properties, and my dad handles their money.

“Right. What are you doing here?”

She takes another deep breath. “I wanted you to meet my son.”

My eyebrows pull together, not trusting her, but something tells me I don’t want the answer to my next question. “Why would you want that?”

“Because you’re his uncle.”

My hands feel clammy, and I’m afraid my knees are going to give out. “No fucking way.” Unless Asher knocked her up.Please let that be true.

She was in between them in school, a year older than Ash, a year younger than Colt. But something tells me it wasn’t Ash.

“I know you don’t want to hear this. But Colt is his father.”

My hands clench at my sides as I walk to the railing and look out over the water. There’s no way.

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