Fierce

Chapter 27

Lincoln stood agape in front of his glass office. "Pete. What the hell is this."

Peter scrambled over to him, red in the face and spilling out embarrassed apologies. "Sorry I could literally do nothing to control this – I tried! Sorry she's just so ballsey – I tried!"

"Literally? Literally? Could you have done something? Yes. Did you? No."

"Lincoln­—"

"It's fine," he sighed, waving his assistant away. If he himself couldn't handle Georgiana, how could he expect anyone else to? "I'll sort this." He smoothed his hands down the side of his pants and strode through the doors. "Georgiana. What are you doing here?"

At his voice, she turned – lovely in her blue sundress. She looked directly at him and said, "I'm here to see you. Please sit down?"

She looked strikingly beautiful as usual, but different somehow, and Lincoln struggled to regain his bearings. "N- no. This is my office and I would like you to leave, now. Please."

"Thank you Lincoln, but – I won't just yet; I have a few things that I wish to say to you still. And it's no use pretending that you don't care, so if you could please sit down," she trailed off with a gesture, her firm formality leaving no room for arguments.

He didn't sit though, he remained exactly where he was: his actions a silent protest. "Go ahead then."

"Lincoln," she fiddled with the handbag tucked into her side. "I didn't say it, but you need to know that– I ... love you. I–I don't know when, or how, but I love you." Her nails bit into her palms as she fought to keep her voice from wavering. "After you left that cafe I spent half an hour sobbing into my scarf in a damn toilet cubicle, and then I got pissed on red wine, but I realised I didn't tell you– I didn't say the most important things. I didn't say that I love you.

"I was scared, so scared ­– but I've realised it's okay. I was afraid that I would fall further and open myself – because how could I not? it's you – and that I wouldn't be enough. That you would see me... and walk away." Jaw set, she finally looked up at him. "I know I've fucked this up so much but I want us to give this a chance.

"So now I'm coming to you the way you came to me: with my heart in my hands. I'm just praying that you make a better choice than I did."

He was still standing in the middle of the room like he was before. She waited and waited but he didn't say anything ­­– he didn't move at all.

Georgie cleared her throat and looked at the ground.

She'd never told a man that she loved them. At least she tried – she really had this time.

But it clearly wasn't enough. Despite all her secret, hopeful yearning... it wasn't enough.

So she nodded shakily, gathered herself, walked past him, and left.

The sound of her heels faded from hearing as he stared at the place she had stood.

Lincoln's foot began tapping in furious agitation. What he wanted to do and what he probably should do were seriously at odds with each other.

But if he was honest with himself, there weren't actually any other options.

He turned sharply and followed her.

... Only the bloody elevator was seven floors above them, and the foyer was empty. He frowned. Maybe she'd chosen to take the stairs? He shoved open the door and started down the stairs two at a time. Christ. She always did like to keep him on his toes.

By the time he caught sight of her, she was already three flights down the concrete fire exit stairwell. "Wait George wait. Wait," he grabbed her arm and pulled her around to see a tear stained face looking back at him. "Wait. Just... hold up a sec." He didn't know what to say though, he just stared at her pale face.

Finally she wrenched her arm from his grip. "What, Lincoln?"

"Hold up a sec."

"...I should be the last person making any demands from you, but you need to make up your mind. I can't­–I —"

"I ju­– I see a few problems with this. I want you. I've missed you, but I don't know if we can make our way back, you know? From all this fucked up-ness."

Her cheeks were red now, and she wondered if he realised that both hands were now touching her body, and holding her much closer than she needed to be. Her heart sputtered tentatively. "What do you mean exactly?"

"I mean, how do we get past all the hurt and misunderstanding... and that fucker Reipon. How do we move on from that?"

"I don't know. I've thought about it."

"And?"

"I guess you've got to weigh it up. Cut me loose now and move on," she swallowed. "Or work for whatever this could be. Together."

He just stared at her. He stared and stared until he moved forward in one purposeful movement and kissed her deeply.

Her body melted into him and their lengths fused. Her hands grabbed his biceps and she felt like crying with relief to feel him against her again. To smell him. Their mouths moved together and she felt his erection press against her stomach. She whimpered.

"Linc–Lincoln, we can't."

"Why not?" he muttered, his mouth moving to her neck.

"We shouldn't... we can't jump straight into this."

Brow creased, his stare was full of uncompromising promise. "I want to wipe him out. To fuck the memory of him out of you ­– to possess you so fully that you don't know who the fuck he even is."

"In a stairwell?"

"I don't care."

Something so primitive would usually revolt her, but she felt herself soften. "There's nothing to remove. I love you."

His palm came up to cup her cheek. "Dinner at my place. Tonight at seven?"

He hadn't said it back – but she refused to let that familiar fear grip her again. No. She chose to focus on the way he was looking at her: the look that made her feel loved.

And for now, that was enough.

She turned her cheek to kiss his palm. "Make it my place; I'm cooking."

At that he smiled, knowing how seriously she would take this – and how stressed it would no doubt make her. He promised himself silently that he would somehow find a way to reciprocate the gesture.

After a few more lingering, loaded kisses, he tore himself away to jog back up the stairs.

He didn't turn back around. He couldn't look back at her – at gorgeous George, standing in his stairwell.

Back in his office, Linc checked his watch and sighed in frustration. He may as well write the entire afternoon off as a total waste of time: there was no way in hell he could focus after that.

Screw it. May as well surrender to his inevitable state of distraction. For the past few weeks, Georgiana had never been far from his thoughts anyway – and at least this would be a different kind of torment.

And it was a torment, to allow himself to go there again. To finally allow himself to linger with desperate, hopeful longing on the thought of the resplendent woman in the blue sundress.

... And maybe ... just maybe, it could be a beautifully sweet kind of torment. One that he could bask in.

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A/N:

I'm VERY excited for this chapter. I hope you all like it – it's definitely a turning point;)

thank you all so much for all your kindness. I feel so lucky 

x