Gary was in no way worthy of hers.

“All right,” she said, lifting her glass and tilting the rest back in a swallow for courage. “Let’s do this.”

“Do what?”

“Tell me how to get that guy’s number.”

—

Lincoln watched across the bar as Daisy’s head tipped back, smooth throat exposed as she laughed at something the other man said.

The little minx.

No way had she needed his advice on how to get a guy’s phone number. Daisy had held the other man in the palm of her hand from the second she’d walked toward him, the guy’s gaze all but eating her up.

Even as Lincoln had hated the other man, he couldn’t blame him. Daisy in that dress was like pure sin. How had he missed that her legs were so long? Her skin so tan? Her arms so toned?

Lincoln had known the second he’d seen her that Daisy was pretty. Beautiful, even. He’d known because Emma was beautiful.

Tonight, Daisy was hot.

Hot in a way that Emma never had been, not to him. He’d always seen Daisy’s twin in a strictly platonic light, but he wasn’t feeling platonic thoughts about Daisy right now.

Surely he wasn’t jealous. Lincoln didn’t do jealous.

But the hot, sour feeling in his stomach was unfamiliar.

So was the need to punch something. Specifically, the smarmy face of the guy smiling down at Daisy right now.

Lincoln took another sip of his drink, watching with narrowed eyes as the man reached for Daisy’s cell phone, no doubt to put his phone number into it.

His eyes narrowed further as he saw that despite Daisy’s easy smile, she moved her fingers before the other man could make even the most casual of hand-to-hand contact.

Interesting.

Alarming.

A woman as well versed in flirting as Daisy apparently was would have known the power of letting her fingers brush against a man, seeing if there was a spark there.

Minutes later, Lincoln’s suspicion went up a notch as the other man moved to drape a hand around the back of Daisy’s chair, and she scooted forward on the padded stool.

It was subtle. She reached for her drink at the same time, making the adjustment look accidental, but Lincoln was damn sure it was on purpose.

Daisy didn’t like to be touched.

How had he not noticed it before? He’d known there was something there, something dark lurking in her past, but this…

Lincoln’s mind reeled with speculation and anger, but perhaps the most alarming reaction of all?

Need.

The need to fix her, help her, care for her, make her see that she didn’t have to be afraid of anything, not ever again.

He tossed back the rest of his drink, trying to wash away the thought.

Daisy Sinclair wasn’t his to fix.

Chapter 19

She tasted like honey and spice, and he couldn’t get enough.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as his mouth skimmed over her chest, licking at the outer curve of her breast before sucking a sweet pink nipple into his mouth.

Daisy cried out, arching into him, and he slid his hands beneath her back to hold her close, her skin hot and damp with need.

She was moaning his name in soft, needy pants, and he was convinced he’d never heard anything as sweet as Lincoln murmured in her smoky drawl.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away from her delicious breasts, only to pull him down once more to her mouth.

Lincoln sank into the kiss like he wanted to sink into her, his tongue claiming every corner of her mouth. Daisy pulled his bottom lip between her teeth, nipping just hard enough to elicit a growl, before soothing teasingly with her tongue.

He’d had enough. It’d been so long, too damn long—

Lincoln’s hand skimmed down her stomach, relishing the feel of soft skin and even softer curves until he could nudge her bare thighs apart. They both groaned as he found her warm and wet. His fingers stroked over her soft folds before he captured her mouth and slid his middle finger into her, groaning louder as she clenched around him.

Daisy squirmed beneath him as he brought her close time and time again with circling thumb and thrusting fingers, only to stop before she found her release.

She bit his shoulder in frustration. “Now.”

His eyes closed. Now. Now.

It was right. It had always been right. Always been her.

He rolled over her as she spread her legs, their warm, sweat-slicked bodies aligning perfectly.

Lincoln framed her face with his hands, his gaze locking on her need-filled eyes, seeing the same confused want there that was rocketing through him.

Neither looked away as he moved his hips, nudging her opening.

He thrust forward, planting himself firmly inside her with one smooth stroke, the perfect rightness of her making him gasp. Daisy’s arms came around him, her lips claiming his.

He was home. Damn it, he was finally home.

—

Lincoln’s eyes flew open, his breath coming in shallow pants, skin damp with sweat. Cock. Hard.

He slept naked most nights, but even the thin layer of sheets was still too hot, and he kicked them off.

Lincoln’s eyes closed again as he tried to catch his breath and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

A dream.

Just a dream.

A sex dream. Not the first he’d had, certainly, but easily the most detailed. And the hottest.

Damn it.

About Daisy.

Even as Lincoln’s brain tried to rationalize that it didn’t mean anything, his hand moved down his body, palming his still-hard cock.