Free Three Rings (The Fairytail Saga) by S.K Munt

He hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Hadn’t been able to shake the image of Ivyanne tugging Tristan by the tie in that predatory way that had made everything poisonous inside him sizzle.
    God. I’m an idiot. He buried his face into his hands, rubbing his eyes. I thought the way she looked at me was hot, but that was something else! ‘It’s too horrific to recount. Let’s just say that I need a drink, a nap, and-’
    ‘I can guess the rest.’ There was mirth in Sherri’s tone. ‘Where’s that plus sized beauty who was lurking about yesterday? I’m sure she’ll offer her services!’
    Lincoln turned to Sherri, smiling sadly. He appreciated her trying to cheer him up, but it wasn’t going to work. He was too pissed off. ‘I’m pretty sure it won’t work for a while now, even if she did!’ He screwed up his face. ‘Its been traumatized.’
    Sherri winked at him. ‘You’d be surprised what a gentle kiss better could fix, Mr Grey.’
    Lincoln felt like someone had run a current from the power outlet and straight down his spine. He straightened, lifting his eyebrows, caught off guard. Her tone had been teasing, light-but that look in her eye...that was something else! ‘Come again?’
    Sherri shrugged, adjusting the Australian flag bandana wrapped around her pin curls. She’d gone to a lot of effort to look patriotic, and the bold colors suited her, contrasting against her creamy skin. ‘Just sayin...maybe you shouldn’t put both your eggs in this one basket-especially while someone else is tugging on the other side of it.’
    Lincoln frowned slightly. ‘She’s more than just a basket, Sherri. She’s….’
    ‘Sorry.’ A low voice said. ‘She’s really, really sorry.’
    Lincoln’s shoulders tensed. He turned to see Ivyanne standing on the other side of the bar, her green eyes shifting from him to Sherri nervously. Her hair was still up, though damp and fuzzier than the day before, telling him she’d swum from Bracken, and she wore a red, one shouldered tank top that hugged her as wholly as the white number she’d had on when he’d last seen her. It was paired with short denim cut-offs again. Red, and almost blue. White frangipanis were tucked into her braids near her crown, and low-cut white sand shoes glowed with that new-shoe-against-tan gleam, making her look sporty and fresh.
    Lincoln couldn’t form a response. She looked so damn good that his body was already fizzing with the anticipation of pleasure, and the genuine despair in those limpid green eyes appealed to the love-struck sixteen year old boy still clawing to be released inside him.
    ‘Um...hi.’ Sherri said, filling the silence. ‘You must be the infamous Ivyanne. I’m Adele’s replacement, Sherri.’ She turned to Lincoln. ‘She works here? You didn’t tell me that .’
    ‘Must have slipped my mind.’ Lincoln mumbled. ‘Sorry...I had a pretty crummy day yesterday.’
    A flash of annoyed suspicion briefly contorted Ivyanne’s pretty features, no doubt wondering what Lincoln had told Sherri about her-but her gaze didn’t budge from his.
    ‘Hey,’ she said softly. ‘It’ll be nice to meet you Sherri, once I’ve sorted something out with the boss here.’
    Lincoln swallowed. He was used to the cloak and dagger aspect of their relationship-hiding their feelings, keeping their hands to themselves. Her blatant acknowledgment of exclusivity from the new girl, the slight warning that Sherri ought to leave them alone, both quickened his pulse, and rendered him speechless.
    ‘Um..okay…’ Sherri sounded more than a little put-out, and Lincoln didn’t blame her. It was the first time that Ivyanne’s countenance had come close to resembling arrogance. And despite the fact that he liked her getting possessive about him, he was irritated all the same that she waited until she’d messed up, to do it.
    ‘You’ll need a backbone to be married to a queen.’ Tristan’s words floated back to him. ‘And you’re as