Chapter 9

Tyler

Her perfect ass was tight as hell and in my hands. I held her against me, watching as her breasts rippled with each of her breaths. We were wrapped so tightly together on my kitchen floor, both coming down from our intense orgasms.

Over an hour of fucking. That’s how long it had been, although it had only felt like a few minutes. How had I allowed myself to lose my mind so quickly? And why did I want to do it again?

“Jesus,” was all I could say, bringing my hand up to her curls and swiping them behind her ears. She looked perfect, angelic, and completely spent. I had half a mind to carry her to my bed and allow her to sleep here until morning when I left for San Francisco.

Quinn giggled slightly, sounding almost school-girlish, reminding me of how much younger she was. How many sexual encounters did she have? I wondered. Of course, she’d been to college. And damn, she gave great head. She had some idea about what she was doing.

“Do we have to stay here on the floor all night?” she asked with a slight grin.

Rearing back, I released her and stood, leaning heavily against the counter and watching as she collected herself. With a sudden memory, I reached upward, grabbing the forgotten pepperoni pizza and passed her a piece “You need your strength,” I said, giving her a wink.

Grabbing my t-shirt, she flung it over her breasts, looking casual and sexy. I brought my boxers over my legs, shaking slightly after the intense session.

Would she want to do that again?

God. No. What was I doing?

I watched as she took a bite of her pizza. “Guess the pizza worked after all,” she said.

Was that a joke? Jesus.

“You really conned me,” I said, suddenly unable to eat anything. This girl seemed special, yes. But very young. And also, Rachel had taken a liking to her. I couldn’t date her. Fuck, no. But maybe I could preserve something for Rachel so that she could go back and play with the dog. So she could discuss science.

How could I fix what I’d already fucked, savagely, on the kitchen floor?

“So you’re working at the lab. When does that start?” I asked her, trying to find a bit of normalcy. As she eyed me curiously, I took a long bite of pizza, chewing languidly. The grease and the cheese had separated slightly, making it slimy against my tongue.

“I start on Monday. I’m really looking forward to a fresh start, after my recent breakup in Asheville,” she said. She leaned toward me, looking almost as if she wanted a kiss. But instead, she took another bite of pizza—perhaps sensing how much I wanted to turn back time.

“Sleep patterns?” I asked. “I could use some information on that. I can never sleep when I get out to San Francisco. There’s too much on my mind about my daughter. Too much on my mind about what my ex-wife is putting her through.” I hung my head, realizing I’d brought up Marnie. Again.

“Well, how much alcohol do you drink before you sleep?” Quinn asked me.

“Probably a bit too much.”

“You can become reliant on it,” she said, her voice becoming a near whisper. “It’s dangerous for sleep cycles. And are you getting enough light?”

“I spend most of the days in meetings,” I sighed, sensing she had a point.

She shrugged slightly, creeping closer to me. I wanted to lean my head against her shoulder, to ask her to take some of the weight off my life.

But I knew how foolish that was. My life was complicated enough. I still felt such sexual attraction to her, brimming through my arms, my hanging cock, my legs—even my heart. As she sat, just a few inches away, I was inclined to pummel her against the floor once more. To eat up every inch of her.

“Speaking of which, I have to head to the airport at six in the morning. That’s in about six hours,” I said, trying to laugh it off.

“You want to head up to bed?” she asked me. Her eyes danced with the prospect of fucking on an actual mattress.

I shook my head, breaking eye contact. I was the definition of an asshole, but I couldn’t let this happen.

“No. I better sleep alone tonight. Still, have to pack. Get my shit organized. You know the drill,” I said, my voice losing its sexual energy. I rose, placing the pizza box on top of the counter and nabbing a beer from the fridge, giving one to her as well. She held it like a consolation prize she didn’t really want to take with her.

“So—I’ll see you when you get back?” she asked me, her voice as light as a string.

“I suppose so. We are neighbors,” I replied. Fuck, I sounded like a real asshole. I watched as she eased into her clothes once more. Watching someone, you didn’t know well get dressed was always awkward, almost too intimate. She stumbled slightly, lacing her first leg into her jean shorts. “I’ll be back Sunday,” I added. She didn’t actually need to know that.

“Sunday,” she whispered, turning toward the door. She walked in her sandals, toward the darkness of the still-hot September night. “Enjoy the west coast for me.”

“Hey. Quinn,” I said, forcing her to pause at the door. She spun back, her blonde hair flipping in an overly sexual way—making me want to pin her even more. “My life’s pretty complicated right now. And this—whatever’s happening between us? It can’t happen. No fucking way.”

Quinn’s eyes squinted but then returned to normal. She didn’t speak or give any physical sign that she’d heard me. Rather, she retreated from the house and walked back to hers, her sandals flashing in the moonlight.

I knew that one day she would see the reason behind this. I knew I’d done the right thing. I snapped the door closed behind her, drawing a boundary line between us. The one I could never cross again.