All of My Soul (22 page)

“She doesn’t need any sleeping pills. She’ll
just stay with me. She said it doesn’t happen as often when she
sleeps with me.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not a solution,
Lincoln. That’s just avoiding the problem. And it does still happen
with you. I’m just usually too distracted to be stressed out before
bed.”

Lincoln’s face broke out in a wolfish grin.
“Stress reliever, huh? Well, it’s a dirty job, but I’m always up
for a challenge.”

My face turned bright red. “You have four
away games before graduation. I’m not going with you to all of
them.”

Lincoln had opened his mouth and was about to
reply when Dr. Raussman began speaking.

“Okay. This is not constructive. Jillian, I
would like you to take this prescription, and if you don’t use it,
that’s fine. But if you do feel like you want it then you have
it.”

I nodded as he scribbled on a small white pad
of paper and ripped off the top sheet, handing it to me.

“In the meantime, keep journaling. I
encourage you to share your entries with Lincoln if he wants to
hear them. As I said, I’m not a couple’s therapist, but it seems
you both need to work on being upfront about things with each
other. Don’t hide something because you feel the other person won’t
like it or can’t help with it.” His face turned friendly again.
“And good luck with your thesis and graduation.”

“That’s it? We’re done?” Lincoln asked with a
surprised tone.

“That’s it for today. Feel free to come back
anytime, Jillian. Lincoln.” Dr. Raussman leaned against his desk
with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were alight with
amusement.

“Thank you, Doctor.” I stood and slung my
purse over my shoulder. Grabbing Lincoln’s hand, I quickly pulled
him out of the office. I heard him thank the doctor and say
good-bye as we rapidly made our way through the waiting room to a
bank of elevators. Brody was waiting for us downstairs in the
lobby, and as the silver metal doors opened to reveal an empty
elevator car, I whimpered in relief.

Pulling Lincoln into the car with me, I
pushed the button for the first floor before leaning back against
the wall of the elevator and grabbing a fistful of the front of
Lincoln’s shirt. I pulled him close to me as I arched up to kiss
him. His lips came down on mine as the elevator doors closed, and I
wrapped myself around him. My arms went around his neck, and I
hitched one leg around his hip as his body pushed me hard against
the elevator wall. I groaned as we attacked each other, our mouths
desperate for more. He pinned me to the wall with his hips as his
hands roved over my body.

Images of his rock-hard body swirled through
my mind, and I dropped my arms from around his neck. I ran my hands
over the beautiful ridges on his stomach. His shirt was in the way,
but I could still feel how defined and toned he was. My fingers
skated over the outline of his two hard muscles that disappeared
into the waistband of his jeans.

He growled and ripped his mouth away from
mine. “Oh fuck. Jillian. What are you doing to me?” He was
breathing hard, trying to stay in control.

I looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to
convey how much I wanted him. “I just need to be close to you right
now,” I pleaded. Hearing Dr. Raussman’s interpretation of my
nightmares seemed to solidify something for me. I knew I loved
Lincoln madly, but hearing that even my subconscious knew he was
the most important person to me made things more real. I took it as
proof this wasn’t just a superficial love.

Lincoln closed his eyes and rested his
forehead against mine. He didn’t move any closer, but didn’t pull
away either. “We can’t. Not here. There might be cameras.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Dating a celebrity sucked sometimes. He couldn’t be caught doing
inappropriate things in an elevator no matter how much I begged
him. To be honest, I wasn’t into public sex either. No way did I
want to be caught on tape. Not with my scars. But until Lincoln
pointed it out, I hadn’t even thought about it. I just wanted
him.

Opening my eyes, I moved my mouth to his ear
as I dropped my leg from his hip. “Take me home, baby,” I
whispered.

He opened his eyes and gave me his wolfish
grin again. “Your wish is my command, Princess.”

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open,
and Lincoln moved off me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of
the elevator, laughing and smiling.

Brody smiled at us as he put down his
newspaper and got up from the uncomfortable-looking lobby chair. I
didn’t wait for him to meet us at the door like usual. I was too
anxious to get home to worry about what might be waiting for us on
the other side of the door. But as my feet hit the sidewalk in
front of Dr. Raussman’s office building, I heard a commotion around
me.

“There she is!” a wiry voice said near
me.

I spun on my heel and gasped when I saw a
camp of reporters not too far away from me, some with cameras, some
not. They were just out of sight from the lobby, strategically
placed so Brody wouldn’t have seen them.

One man was pointing at me while others
scrambled to push buttons on various recording devices. The group
instantly surrounded me as cameras flashed in my face.

“Jillian! What do you need therapy for?”

“Jillian, over here! Do you talk about your
father’s death with Dr. Raussman?”

“Do you and Lincoln need couple’s counseling
already?”

I threw my hands up in front of my face to
shield myself from the onslaught of questions and tried to step
back to retreat away from the reporters, but they had me
surrounded.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!”

Lincoln was next to me in an instant, his
arms surrounding me, caging me against his chest. I pushed my face
against him, my eyes already filling with tears. How had they found
us?

The media blitz continued as questions were
shouted while Lincoln guided us through the crowd, trying to get us
to the safety of our town car. Peeking through Lincoln’s protective
embrace, I saw Brody mercilessly pushing reporters away from
us.

Lincoln practically threw me into the back of
our vehicle and climbed in after me while Brody ran to the driver’s
side. Despite the dark tint on the windows, the reporters pushed
cameras against the glass, attempting to get just one more
picture.

Tires squealed, and I was flung back in my
seat as Brody peeled away from the scene. I sat up and watched
through the back window as the media circus faded into the
distance.

Quick movement from next to me caught my
attention. I turned just in time to see Lincoln punch the back of
the front passenger’s seat. “FUCK!” he screamed and punched the
seat again before dropping his head into his hands in defeat.

Memories of the first time Lincoln and I
encountered a tabloid reporter filled my mind. Lincoln had turned
glacial and shut me out after the incident, preferring to deal with
it himself rather than tell me what was going on. Like hell if I
was going to let that happen again.

I pulled my phone out of my purse and slid
across the bench to climb into Lincoln’s lap. Thankfully he seemed
accepting of my comfort as he pulled me close to him. I rested my
head against his shoulder as I hit the speaker button on my
phone.

“Hello?” a voice came across my phone and
filled the car.

“Carter,” Lincoln said.

“Hey, what’s up bro? Why are you calling from
Jillian’s phone?”

“We’ve got a problem,” Lincoln told his
brother.

Silence filled the car.

“Is Jillian all right?”

“I’m fine.” I set my phone on my lap and
squeezed Lincoln’s hand. “We’re both fine.”

Lincoln spoke up. “Carter, they knew where we
were. They knew she was seeing a therapist.”

“Who?”

“Vultures,” Lincoln spat out.

Carter understood. “Oh, Jesus. Okay. Let me
make some calls. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

The line disconnected and silence filled the
car again until I spoke in a small voice. “Where is he meeting
us?”

“My parents’ place.” He said it as if it
should have been obvious.

“Oh.” We had gone there the last time the
media found us. “Why there?”

He nuzzled against my head. “I’m not sure.
We’ve just always gone there when we’ve had a problem. It’s our
safe zone.” He sighed deeply. “Jillian, look at me.”

I pulled back and looked up at him. His face
was serious and full of anxiety. “I don’t”— he swallowed hard—“I
don’t know if I can fix this.”

I brought my hand up to his face and caressed
the worry lines on his forehead with my thumb. “What do you
mean?”

“If it had only been one or two vultures, we
could have buried the story. Paid them off. But there were a lot of
reporters back there on that sidewalk. I’m afraid it’s already too
big to cover up.”

I wound my arms around his big shoulders and
hugged him tight. His strong arms wrapped around me as he hugged me
in return.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice
strained, full of regret.

“Hey. Hey.” I pulled back to look him in the
eye. “Do you remember what I said the first time the tabloids
caught us?”

He pursed his lips but didn’t answer.

“I said I didn’t care if those pictures of us
kissing were printed, and I still don’t care what they print about
us.”

“This is more than pictures, Princess.
They’re going to write that you’re seeing a therapist.”

I let out a small laugh. “I
am
seeing
a therapist. I’m not ashamed of it.”

“They’re not going to say it nicely, Jillian.
They’re going to make you look crazy.”

I cupped his face with my hands and shook my
head. “I don’t care. As long as the people I love know the truth,
then nothing else matters.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. The
next thing I knew his lips were on mine, and he was kissing me
fiercely. Knowing Brody was sitting two feet away, I kept our kiss
fairly innocent, but it was passionate enough that I knew he
appreciated my calm reaction to the drama with the reporters.

Brody drove around for a while to lose anyone
who might have been following us. Eventually he pulled into a
driveway and drove around to the backside of the white
colonial-style house, hiding us from view of the main road just
like Lincoln had the first time the tabloids caught us together. I
wondered when Lincoln had briefed Brody on the standard procedures
for being chased by the paparazzi.

Brody stepped out and waited for us at the
rear of the vehicle, but Lincoln’s grip on me didn’t lessen.
Instead, he held me close and looked at me with intense eyes. “This
is my worst nightmare, Jillian. Our parents trained us to protect
our privacy, and right when I see all my defenses have failed, you
put things in perspective. You knew exactly what to say to make
this better. This is what I’m talking about when I tell you that
you’re amazing. I don’t know anyone else who would be taking this
so well.”

I smiled at his compliments. “As long as none
of them get a copy of Mackenzie’s horrible picture of me, I don’t
care what they print.”

“They won’t. I promise you that much.”

I kissed him again, this time not holding
back since we were alone. All the passion from the elevator flared
through me again, and I had to pull away from him before I lost
control.

“Come on, baby,” I said with a smile as I
crawled off his lap. “Let’s go inside.”

Lincoln gave the rundown of what was
happening to Margie, the housekeeper, before we retreated to the
library. Since Lincoln’s parents were in Washington most of the
time, I had only been here once before, but I was getting serious
déjà vu. This felt eerily similar to the last time I had been here,
but I hoped this time would be a better experience. I had
successfully stopped him from pulling away from me like he had last
time, and my craving for him hadn’t lessened despite the media
circus.

Checking my phone as we entered the library,
I saw we still had forty minutes before Carter said he would meet
us here.

“Why this room?” I asked Lincoln as he
retrieved two bottles of water from the mini fridge behind the wet
bar. “I’ve never even seen the rest of the house.”

Lincoln shrugged as he handed me one of the
bottles and took a long drink from the other one. “I don’t know,”
he answered after he swallowed. “There’s no windows in this room.
Feels a little more private, I guess. Did you want a tour?”

I grinned wickedly and saddled up to him,
hooking my fingers through his belt loops. “Why don’t you show me
your childhood bedroom? I want to see where teenage Lincoln
slept.”

He returned my smile, but shook his head. “I
never lived here.”

That surprised me. “You didn’t?”

“No. We lived in a house on the Near North
Side when I was little, but by the time I was in high school we had
moved to the Governor’s Mansion in Springfield, although we spent
most summers in Chicago or traveling. They didn’t buy this house
until I was in college.”

“Oh.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

I ran my hands up his chest, my fingers
itching to touch him. “Hmm… I thought maybe we could christen your
bed.”

A smirk broke out across his face. “Oh? And
how do you know it hasn’t been christened already?”

He meant to tease me but his question made me
stop short. “But you said you’ve only slept with four women. Five
including me.”

He furrowed his brows. “Yeah, and two of them
were in high school.”

“In your bed?”

“Does this really matter?”

“Well, no. But I just thought I could give
you a first.” I shook my head and pulled away from him. “It was
stupid. Never mind.”

He grabbed my hands and pulled me back to
him. “It’s not stupid, baby.” He grasped my hips and looked at me
intensely. “I can’t change what I did in the past.”