My breath tumbled out of me, then my arms were around his neck, and my legs around his waist.
He caught me as if I were made of feathers, and that was exactly how it felt to be held by him again. As though I were floating. Adrift someplace wonderfully foreign, yet home at the same time.
“Quinn,” I rasped when a hand moved up my back, tangling in my hair. “We shouldn’t.”
“I know.” His breath melded with mine in short puffs and pants as our lips grew closer, until they hovered a hair’s breadth apart. “But I don’t want another life. I want this one. With you.”
His lips touched mine, and as though it’d been ready and waiting, every part of my body lit up like a firework display. Unlike the night of the party, they were soft, gentle, and his breath was sweet with a slight tang of mint. My tongue couldn’t wait another minute and dived out of my mouth, parting his lips to find his. He met me lick for lick, stroke for stroke. His groan a thing of beauty that I thought my ears would never bear witness to again.
“Fuck.” He tore his mouth away, and I panicked until he tossed me gently on the bed, then removed his shirt.
My mouth fell wide open, my eyes trying to comprehend what they were seeing. Which appeared to be smooth, golden skin, wide, strong shoulders, and biceps that bunched as he moved over top of me, and a sparse trickle of blond hair, almost nonexistent, on his chest that matched the trail leading into his briefs. The tiny hairs on his chest were new, and my throat dried with the urge to touch them. To press my lips against them.
“Dais?”
“Huh?” I shook my head, my cheeks heating.
Lowering his mouth to my cheeks, he laid kisses over them. “I still get so fucking hard when your cheeks turn pink.”
My breath caught, and I grabbed his face, bringing his forehead to mine. “Is this really happening?”
Staring at me, his eyes full of wonder, he said, “I can’t stop. I can’t do this anymore. It’s you and me. It was always meant to be you and me, and I’m done trying to fight it.”
My heart soared so high that for a moment, I feared how much it might hurt when it hit the ground once again. But then his lips returned to mine, only breaking apart to remove our clothing.
Left in only my panties, I watched him slowly drag them down my legs, his rough fingers running over my skin. “You’ve only gotten more beautiful. How the hell does that even happen?” He seemed to be talking to himself, but I blushed anyway. My heart pounding a mile a minute.
His dark blue boxer briefs were the last thing to go, and I almost looked away, feeling so exposed and nervous I could curl into a ball. Desperation and excitement grew stronger by the second, though, and I knew. I couldn’t and wouldn’t stop this either.
He crawled between my legs, and I tried not to watch his long, thick length bob against his stomach as he did. Tried and failed, according to his grin.
“Come here,” he whispered, tilting my chin and skimming his lips over mine. “I want inside you, so bad. I don’t think I have a rubber, though.” My hesitancy must’ve been obvious, for he said, “I’ve never been with … never with anyone without one.”
I could feel him, rubbing my wetness, which helped me to ignore the knowledge he’d been with anyone else at all. And I wanted it this way. Just us. Nothing else. “I’m on the pill.” His scowl made me laugh. “That’s a good thing. But I should warn you, I haven’t …”
“Haven’t what?” His scowl morphed into bewilderment. “You haven’t been with anyone?”
“No. Just you.”
“Just me,” he repeated, sounding stunned and a little choked up. “Fuck, Dais. I don’t deserve that, this. You.”
I was too absorbed in what I was feeling right now to get lost in sorrow and regret. His skin felt like it was burning mine, his breath coasting over my lips and his eyes only on me.
“Just you,” I croaked, as he started raining kisses over my face, moving down my neck and laving at my chest.
His large hands were everywhere, covering my small breasts entirely and tracing and licking every indent and curve of my body. His warm tongue dipped into my belly button, and I giggled until he reached the apex of my thighs and opened them.
“Whoa.” I almost screeched when his tongue spread me open, licking long, gentle lines over my most sensitive area. He groaned against me, and the tremor sent goose bumps sailing over every bit of heated flesh.
“Uh, oh, my,” I moaned, and his arms wrapped around my thighs, his hands squeezing them gently as he drew circles over me with his tongue.
I came with a cry wrenched from me without my permission and would normally care that someone might hear me, but I was floating again. Differently this time, with stars and half-moons creating a film over my eyes.
Quinn wiped his chin, moving over my body and hooking my leg around his back. I felt him right there and stared dazedly up at his face. I watched the way his nostrils flared as he aligned himself, then pushed forward an inch. “Let me know if I hurt you, ’kay?”
“Okay,” I croaked, still feeling deliciously warm and tingly.
Rearing his hips back, he slowly eased inside, stopping when his pelvis met mine, and I was completely full of him. “Oh, Christ,” he hissed, his head diving into my neck.
I stared at the ceiling, feeling a pinch of pain but also something else. As though with the connection of our bodies, a part of myself was locking back into place.
Ignoring the discomfort, I let my hands explore the skin of his muscled shoulders and arms. My fingers traced the ridges and bones, making his whole body twitch and shiver over mine.
We laid there, unmoving besides our breathing and the almost silent movement of my hands on his skin for an unmeasurable amount of time.
The only light came from the window by my bed. The moon glowing outside sent shadows dancing off the walls. The sound of voices in the building met my ears, but all I wanted to hear was the beating of his heart as it lay resting next to mine. The steady rush of his warm breath as it stirred the hair from my neck. And the suction of his lips, which didn’t seem to want to let go of the skin covering my racing pulse. “You smell and taste like my heart,” he whispered to the underside of my chin, pressing lazy kisses. “And you feel like fucking heaven.”
My arms squeezed him tight, a tear leaking out of my eye. “I don’t know if I could handle losing you again,” was all I could muster in response. Because I couldn’t. My fears demanded to be heard, and I gave them what they wanted. What they deserved.
Quinn made a pained sound, rising onto his forearms and brushing some hair gently off my face. “You won’t. Never.” His eyes searched mine, that ability to read one another resurfacing. “I’ll make it right, I promise.”
Wishing on every star that filled the sky he meant those words, I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist. His silky-smooth skin touching mine elicited a wave of heat that rolled over me from my toes to my fingertips.
His hand sank into my hair, his fingertips grazing and rubbing my scalp as his hips rocked. Once, twice, and on the third, his eyes looked like they’d combust. Air escaped his parted lips in sharp exhales against my own. His golden hair tousled in every which way.
He was magnificent. Larger than life rising above me, moving inside me, his heat all over me. The image imprinted on my brain, and I knew the second I was alone, I’d want to recreate it on paper.
Picking up speed, he lost his slow pace and rhythm when our lips and hands started a frenzied dance. Quiet grunts and moans filled the room, and my heart beat out of control as he licked the curve of my throat and hit a spot inside me that had my toes curling.
“You’re tightening,” he murmured to my lips, eyes lazy and so hooded I was surprised he could see me. “Feel good?”
All I could do was make some pitiful whimpering sound, which made his lips tilt. Seconds later, my stomach quivered violently, and there it was again.
“Yes,” he groaned out, his teeth dragging my bottom lip into his mouth then slowly releasing it. Hips swiveling, he pumped faster as my brain turned to mush, and my legs had his torso in a vise grip. Shivers were still assaulting me, but I managed to open my eyes, just in time to watch him throw his head back. His jaw locked tight, a hiss of breath and a curse flew from his mouth, and his body stilled. Some kind of aftershock rolled through me at the sight.
He collapsed, heavy on top of me and breathing hard into my neck. I didn’t care. I took his weight like a hard-earned medal. Soaking in the feeling of holding something that belonged to me with a desperation that had my hands shaking as they slid into his damp hair.
“Just you,” he whispered.
The rain was the second thing I heard waking up the following morning.
The first was Quinn’s repeated promise when I was half asleep. “I’ll be back. I’ll make it right again.”
Which did nothing to soothe the sting his absence had created.
Rolling over, I blinked my eyes open, letting them roam the room. His whispered promise felt like a fraying piece of string that he expected me to hold on to. He was gone.
I tried not to let the knowledge choke the air from my lungs and blinked back sleepy tears.
Sitting up, I shoved my hair back from my face, wondering if maybe it was all a beautiful dream. One that felt entirely too real and left a lingering soreness between my legs.
No, it wasn’t. Though if he didn’t mean all that he’d said, not only with his words, but with his every touch, then maybe I could convince myself it was. If only to make the crushing weight of my heart sinking once more lessen. Just a little.
Not wanting to overindulge my paranoia and overanalyze everything we’d done and said, I grabbed my sketchpad and pencil from the nightstand and opened it to a fresh page.
Hours passed, and I briefly wondered if I should get up. Take a shower and do something about what I was sure was one hell of a rat’s nest on top of my head.
But I couldn’t. I continued to stare at the fat raindrops hitting the window through the gap in the sheer curtain, and I drew.
Sometime later that afternoon, the door opened and Pippa walked in, looking almost as somber as me. “Hey,” I said, closing my sketchpad and putting it down beside me.
“Hi,” she said, sniffling.
She dumped her bag then plopped down face first onto her bed. I gave her a minute, knowing she was upset and likely mulling over what to tell me.
Something had obviously happened. It was the first time she’d spent the night at Toby and Quinn’s, and I figured that should’ve resulted in smiles and endless looks of wonderment. Not sighing, sniffling, and looking like she’d just been slapped in the face.
“Toby … he lied to me,” she whispered, her green eyes looking at the wall.
“How?” I laid down, rolling over to face her.
Heaving out a weary sigh, she finally fixed her gaze on mine. “A lie of omission really. He didn’t tell me …” She swallowed. “He has depression, anxiety. I don’t even know.”
I hoped my shock was well veiled, but apparently, it wasn’t, as Pippa smiled, swiping underneath her nose. “Yeah, I think I might’ve looked the same when I found the prescription bottles.”
“What, but he …” I broke off; it seemed stupid to finish that sentence.
Pippa did anyway. “Happy? Fine? Yeah, I know.”
I could understand why she was upset. This wasn’t just news of some new boyfriend who suffered from mental health issues. This was Pippa, remembering all her family went through when her father left them, due to his own struggles.
“What are you going to do?” I asked as gently as I could.
She didn’t answer for a long minute, then whispered. “Right now? Nothing. It’s not something I should even be mad about, really. But, well, he doesn’t know about my dad.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I’m not sure.”
Time ticked by as we both lay staring at each other and random items around the room, our heads and hearts full of unending questions.
After a while, I finally admitted, “I slept with Quinn last night.”
“Well, shit.” Pippa’s eyes bugged out, and she slowly pushed herself up from the bed. “I’ll go grab us some chocolate from downstairs.”