Page 97 of Roses in Summer

37

Lincoln

I don’t pay attention to the speed limit.

I pay attention to other cars only so I don’t crash into them.

I have one singular focus on my mind: Seraphina Rose Gregori.

When I left her in her bed this morning to run home and change before meeting my parents, she let me know she had to work at the library again today. At the time, I nodded at her, warning her that if anyone approached her—Mitch, Chris, or otherwise—and made her feel uncomfortable, she was to call me immediately.

But I know where Mitch is, sitting cozy in a bar like a goddamn predator. I don’t doubt that the guy holding him back was probably Chris or some other asshole unconcerned about the safety and consent of their sexual partners. If I did anything today, it was to let every woman in that bar know that Mitch was a scumbag, but I know that something like humiliation won’t deter a guy like Mitch.

It spurs them on.

That knowledge is what has me pushing one hundred as I fly down the parkway to exit 110 in a rush to get to my little thorn and assure myself that she’s okay. I even called out of work, something I rarely do since it leaves the team shorthanded.

I feel like a dick, but my need to assure myself that Seraphina is safe and whole is more important.

The exit looms in front of me, and since I’m in the left lane, I Jersey-slide across traffic and cut to the exit ramp, acting like the dickhead drivers I hate. As soon as I pass through the tolls, I’m turning onto the road that will lead me directly to Marymount.

The ten-mile distance takes five minutes, and before I know it, I’m shifting into park and unfolding myself from the car. There’s a vague sense of déjà vu, as there continually seems to be with Seraphina, as images from the night I raced over here after she ran into Chris bombard my mind.

Fuck these guys and their continual need to torment my ciern and other women.

I lock my car and walk inside, resisting every instinct I have to run through the doors of the library and charge through the stacks of books until I find her. Fate, God, Allah, or whatever other entity people worship must be on my side, though, because as soon as I walk in, Seraphina is there, placing books on the lobby’s front desk, her back toward me.

“Thank fuck,” I mutter, striding over to her and grabbing her from behind and molding her petite body to mine.

She stiffens at first, turning until she pauses with her head lowered toward my arm. Her eyes catch on the now-familiar coil of roses on my forearm, and she relaxes against me. “Lincoln? What are you doing here?”

I don’t respond at first, leaning down to breathe in her light scent and calm my anger. My silence must unnerve her because she twists in my hold, turning to face me while my arms still circle her waist. “Lincoln?” My name is a question on her lips, and I don’t resist tasting it.

Lowering my head, I capture her lips in a kiss that’s light but still inappropriate for the entrance of the library. I don’t let our location deter me, and I apply more pressure, coaxing her mouth open until I slip my tongue inside, licking into her mouth and tasting the mint she must have eaten. Releasing my hold on her waist, I bring my hands to her face, cradling her jaw and tilting her head so I can dive deeper, inhale her goddamn breath, and convince myself that she breathes for me, exists with me.

A throat clearing behind us has me reluctantly releasing her lips, though my hands stay on her face.

“Sera, maybe not by the main entrance?” Ms. Frizzle’s now-familiar voice calls from behind me, and I watch the red spots bloom on Seraphina’s cheeks.

Stepping back, my hands fall from her skin, and I flex my fingers, wishing I could haul her back into my arms and just hold her for another minute.

“I’m so sorry, May. I—”

“It’s fine, dear. But why don’t you and your gentleman take your conversation somewhere else? And remember, no food or drinks in the archive room.” I haven’t removed my gaze from Seraphina’s, but I smirk at the sole source of concern Ms. Frizzle has: that we’ll ruin a book with a water bottle and not that I’m seconds away from carrying Seraphina to the nearest flat surface and sinking into her until I can assuage the annoyance coursing through me.

“Of course. Lincoln, you can follow me into the employee break room. Is that okay, May?”

“Yes, yes. Fine.” Her voice is distant, as though she’s walking away. I don’t look over my shoulder to check her location, but I watch Seraphina watch her, her eyes seemingly following Ms. Frizzle’s form as she leaves the vestibule. As soon as Seraphina’s shoulders drop, I know her boss is out of sight.

“Come on.” She tilts her head, silently motioning me to follow her. I step back, giving her space to walk around me and allow her to lead me out of the library and toward the back hallway. Seraphina may think she’s leading me and that I’m following her like a meek sheep, but I know something—this hallway leads to the stairwell to the third floor, where the private tutoring rooms are.

Just as Seraphina passes the door leading to the stairs, I grab her arm, halting her progress. She looks back, eyebrows furrowed and a look of confusion on her face.

“Trust me?” I whisper, keeping my voice low in case anyone walks past.

“Yes.” Her answer is instant, not a moment of hesitation in her response.

Tugging on her arm, I pull her into my body. Leaning down, I breathe in her scent again, holding the apple blossom and lemon scent in my lungs until self-preservation forces me to exhale. “Good,” I whisper into her ear before capturing her earlobe between my teeth and biting down lightly. Releasing her flesh, I straighten and look down. “Follow me, ciern.”

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