“Blue—”

“Can you get me a washcloth? I need to clean up.”

Lincoln nodded slowly and pulled out. His gaze lingered on me before he walked to the bathroom, and I heard running water. When he reappeared a minute later, he held out a towel and I took it from him.

“You know I would take care of you if it wasn’t fine.”

My head jerked up at his words. “What?”

Lincoln looked down at me, his expression soft. “I want to take care of you, regardless. You don’t have to live in your aunt’s house, sharing a room with your cousin. I can get you your own place. Then we won’t have to keep coming here.” He waved an arm toward the bed. “We’d have privacy. Away from everyone. No one could interrupt us.”

“What are you saying?” I blinked again, and then twice more as I stared at him.

“I want to take care of you, Whitney. Let me.”

For a few precious minutes, I’d gotten to shut the world out, but now everything came roaring back.

“You want to take care of me? Like . . . pay for me to have a place to live?” I was so shocked by what he was saying, I had to make sure that I wasn’t misunderstanding.

“Yeah. And your bills. Get you a car. You could go to school, if you want. I’ll make sure your tuition is covered too.”

A greasy feeling pooled in my stomach, and I snatched up the sheet and pulled it over me.

“Tuition?” I felt like a parrot, repeating everything he said.

“Yeah. Spending money, whatever you need.”

I blinked a few more times, waiting for him to start laughing and tell me it was a joke, but he didn’t.

I clutched the sheet to my chest. “You want to give me an allowance?”

Some of Lincoln’s earnest expression faded away. “Not like an allowance, but . . . I just don’t want you to have to worry about money.”

I shook my head, my mouth hanging open. “And we’ll keep seeing each other. You paying all my bills . . .”

“Well, yeah.” Lincoln looked confused.

“So you want me to be your side piece tucked up in some house in town. A convenient spot for you to stop and get your rocks off before you go home to the estate and whichever socialite your mom picks out for you?” I jumped off the bed and snagged my clothes from the floor.

“Whitney, you’re making it sound—”

“Like you want me to be your whore? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like to me!” I yanked the tank over my head and tugged on my shorts.

Lincoln jammed his hands into his hair. “Not like that. I just want you to have everything you need and not have to work or worry about money.”

I coughed and laughed at the same time. “And what would you tell your mom when she found out and had another heart attack?”