She’s forgiven me.

Thank God.

Something inside me breaks loose. It’s freedom. It’s seeing the light as you emerge from a dark room; it’s like a ship gliding into its place at the dock, finally secure again after being tossed around on the ocean.

I couldn’t bring her back to that place.

I couldn’t do it.

As much as it terrifies me, the things she says, the memories she brushes up against when she speaks to me, I can’t fake it like that. Not with her. Not any longer. That’s off the table.

The more I learn about her, the more I see how strong she is. How fierce. How even in the face of uncertainty, she didn’t lose her cool.

Not that I mind when she does, especially in bed.

I wish it hadn’t taken so long for me to struggle with my choices.

After I saw Jax and Cate at the Swan, I knew that something had to change. I knew I was going to set aside my rules of engagement, set aside the fake penthouse, set aside all of it, and be with her.

She’s probably right. I should have taken her on a date and asked her all the same questions, and I will. I absolutely will do that. But I had to pull back a little in order to come to terms with the magnitude of what’s happening.

The magnitude of what I feel for her.

She’s hot for me, ravenous for me, all over me. She claws at my clothes, tearing a couple of buttons loose in the process, and I can’t wait another moment to see her body again. I pull her shirt roughly over her head and yank at the clasp of her bra, exposing her perfect breasts. She stifles a gasp with her hand when I lean down and take one of her nipples in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, and then my hand is back on her neck, pulling her into me so I can taste her, show her that she’s mine.

She’s mine.

No matter what happens—no matter what kind of disaster this ends in—I’m not going to give up another second with her.

Still kissing her fiercely, I back her up and lift her onto the bed. She spreads herself wide for me and I can’t help but grin for a moment before I start trailing wet kisses down over her breasts, down over her stomach, and then continue lower.

“Is this for me?” I say, putting a hand on either side of her hips.

Her eyes are black with desire, and I see something in them that I only see when we’re together like this. When I drop my voice to use a certain tone with her. She’s stripped down to another level, needing me, wanting me, wrestling with her own need to be in control.

“Yes,” she whispers, and spreads her legs another inch apart, begging me without words to take her. To consume her. To claim her again and again.

It takes no words to give her what she wants.

I lean down and inhale her scent, then drag my tongue firmly over her soaking folds, lapping up the juices there.

She tastes amazing.

Quinn’s body arches underneath me, her hips tilting up to press more of her against my face as I lick and suck and press my tongue into her wetness.

She presses her knuckles into her mouth to stifle her moans. It’s difficult to remember, down here between her legs, that she has a roommate to be considerate of. Carolyn’s been my friend for years, but right now I don’t care if she hears us.

Quinn’s desire rises to a fever pitch, her hips jerking as she comes into my mouth in another burst of sweetness.

Then I’m pulling her toward me, putting her on her feet, her legs still quivering, and I bend her over her bed, pressing her breasts into the soft covers.

“You’re mine,” I growl, and underneath my hands she moves, minuscule motion that signals to me that she agrees, she wants this, she loves this. Whatever way I choose to dominate her, she’s prepared to take it.

I need to be in her.

Now.

I line myself up with her soaked slit and catch both of her wrists, pinning them at the small of her back. At the pressure of my hands on her wrists she lets out a deep moan, and in the sound is all her longing and need and a desperate request to fuck her, fuck her right now.

In one thrust, I’m buried deep in her wetness. There’s not an ounce of resistance—she’s so open for me that the only friction comes from the size of me pressing against her walls.

“Yes,” she pants, the word a drawn-out hiss as I get into a rhythm, claiming her, for now, forever.

* * *

It’s much later when the light of her phone screen wakes me up.

Quinn stands over near her vanity table, her hand cupped over the screen, squinting at it. I take a moment to look at her outline in the harsh white light emanating from the phone, at the tendrils of hair escaping from her bun, at the curve where her hip transitions into her waist.

Her shoulders slump and my heart twists to see it. Instantly I’m pushing the covers off, going to her side.

She leans into my touch, her head resting against my chest next to my tattoo.

“What’s going on?” I ask her softly.

“My house in Colorado,” she says, and then swallows hard. “It burned to the ground.”

“Shit.” Tears fill her eyes, but she’s smiling now. “Quinn?”

“I’m free of it. I’m finally free of that place.”

A smile spreads across my own face to see her relief. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m great. I’ve never been better.”

I lead her back to bed, pull her down into its softness with me, wrap her in my arms. She settles in, every muscle relaxing, safe and sound.

Several minutes later, as I’m starting to drift off, she says something I can’t hear.

“What?” I whisper, not wanting to shatter the peace of the moment.

“I love you.”

My heart nearly flies out of my chest. It’s never felt more right to hear those words. We’ll talk about all of this, figure out our next steps, decide for ourselves if it’s too early, but for right now…

I smooth my hand over her hair and squeeze her one more time. “I love you, too, Quinn.”