by Liz Lincoln
“Yeah, I read that bit you did about Seth’s honeymoon. It wasn’t your best work.” He frowned. “I’ve always thought you’re a fantastic writer. But that was…flat.”
While it was a little frustrating to hear she didn’t maintain the same level of quality, because she held herself to high standards, mostly she was relieved he understood. “I had as much interest in writing that story as I did in writing yet another essay about Mary fucking Shelley and her stupid monsters.”
Quinn threw back his head to laugh. In college, she’d been an English minor, and somehow ended up having to read Frankenstein in four different classes. Sophomore year, they’d taken an English class together, her third time reading it, though once was in high school. According to Quinn, when she saw the title on their syllabus, her face had gotten so red, he thought she was going to stroke out.
After a few minutes, he settled back down and gave her a more serious look. “I’m sorry working for her hasn’t been that great. I remember she was pretty much your idol back in college.”
Natalie sighed deeply. “Yeah. Maybe I should have left her as my idol. Taken a job at the Journal Sentinel, or some other publication. I don’t know. But she dangled that carrot, and I couldn’t help it. I wanted that chance.”
Belatedly she realized she’d all but brought up the infamous article. In all the time they spent together, neither had dared bring up the article.
She sat up straight, reaching toward him. “Quinn—”
He held up his hand to cut her off. “If you’re going to apologize, please don’t.”
“But I—”
“Did what you had to do. You wanted to work with your idol. I get it. You wouldn’t be Natalie if you weren’t ambitious.” He smiled softly and reached for her hand. “Obviously I was mad for a long time. But I’m not anymore.”
Really? Just like that? “You didn’t even make me grovel. Hell, you didn’t even make me apologize.”
He flipped her hand over and traced his finger over her palm. “I know. Part of my recovery has been doing a lot of self-reflection. Soul-searching. A couple different things lately have helped me realize that in your shoes, I’d have done the same thing. I’d have sold out my own mother to get back to the NFL. OK, maybe she’s not a great example since we’re not close. I’d have sold out my best friend if I had one at the time. So writing a story about an ex? Absolutely.”
He looked up and met her gaze, his hazel eyes full of hope and kindness and other emotions she didn’t dare try to name. “If I could’ve capitalized on our relationship to get back to playing football, I’d have done it. Not my proudest realization, but it’s true. And I can hardly hold against you something I would have done myself.”
Natalie opened her mouth, but no words came out. His confession utterly shocked her. How did she tell him that no matter what else she received over the next few days, no other present could possibly top the gift he’d just given her?
How did her chest feel too tight to breathe yet like it had been cracked wide open? She bit down on her bottom lip, but that didn’t stop the tears from blurring her vision.
“Ah, fuck.” He hauled her onto his lap and slid his fingers into her hair. His mouth was gentle on hers, his tongue teasing her lower lip away from her teeth so he could pull it between his.
She slid easily into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his chest. “I’m sorry, Quinn. If there had been—”
This time he cut her off by slicking his tongue over hers. He held her tighter than he ever had, and though the attraction between them always made the heat flare quickly, this time there was a new element as well.
But once again, she wasn’t going to dwell on it. She was just going to enjoy the feeling as the kisses went on and on. They’d already had sex twice that afternoon, so neither was in a rush to take things further. They simply held each other and explored each other’s mouths, slowly, carefully, relearning each other in ways they hadn’t bothered to until now.
Just when they were reaching a point where Natalie felt deeper stirrings of arousal, Quinn made a strangled noise and jerked back. “What the hell?”
Booker rested his chin on Quinn’s hip and managed to gaze up at him with adoring eyes.
“Apparently someone’s jealous.” Natalie scratched the pup’s soft fur. He gave a doggy groan and bumped her hand with his nose to indicate she should keep petting him.
Quinn stole one last kiss. “You mean him or me?”
She rolled her eyes. “As if you didn’t already get some.”
Quinn grinned, the cockiest grin she’d ever seen on his face, the lines around his eyes etching deep into his skin. Goddamn, that was sexy. “Damn right I did.” He looked at the dog. “Twice.”
Natalie swatted him on the chest. “Stop, or you won’t get any more.”
“As much as I would enjoy convincing you otherwise, Matt’s got to be home pretty soon.”
And unless they could come up with a plausible reason why Quinn was suddenly going to her house late on Christmas Eve when he had practice Christmas morning, that meant no more for tonight.
Bummer. “I’m going to Christmas dinner at Annie’s parents, and that usually goes until nine or ten. So I guess that’s it for Christmas sex.” She kept her voice light. She honestly didn’t mind going all of tomorrow with no sex. She’d gone months without any before she and Quinn started their arrangement. But the idea of not seeing him outside work left her unsettled.
She wanted to spend the holiday with him. At some point, she’d have to figure out all the implications of that.
But not tonight.
* * *
—
“Come on, you gonna let him get away with that shit?” Matt yelled at the TV. Because Matt always yelled at the TV when they were watching football.
It was New Year’s Day, the regular season was over, and the Dragons had managed to secure themselves a bye week—a week with no game—for the first round of the playoffs. While Crosby wasn’t giving them the week off the way they got during the regular season bye week, he had taken pity on his players and given them Wednesday off instead of Tuesday this week. Quinn suspected it was because he wanted New Year’s Day off as much as the players did.
After spending an amazing night in bed with Natalie, and a few amazing encounters out of her bed, he’d dragged his ass home to watch the New Year’s Day college bowl games with Matt.
They were almost to halftime of the Rose Bowl. Though Quinn had gone to a Big Ten school, since Michigan was in the game, not Northwestern, he didn’t much care if they won or if the game went to the University of Washington. Matt had gone to the University of Colorado, so he had no skin in the game.
Five minutes later, the game cut to the halftime show. Matt muted the TV and headed for the kitchen. “There’s a metric shit-ton of leftover pizza. You good with that for dinner?”
He shouldn’t eat so much junk this close to playoffs. He needed to be in better than his best shape. But he’d eaten all protein and veggies for lunch. He could afford it. “Sounds good.” He should probably skip the second half and go hit the weights they’d set up in the basement, then chug a protein shake before bed.
Matt returned to his chair, propped his feet on the coffee table, and leveled a stare at Quinn.
Why was his friend staring? It was creepy. “What?”
“You and Natalie. When were you planning to tell me you’re hooking up?”
The question caught him so off guard, Quinn didn’t have time to school his reaction. “What?” he sputtered.
Matt kept staring. “Please. I’ve known for a while. You guys aren’t exactly subtle around each other. You eye-fuck her all the time.”
“Eye-fuck her?” What did that even mean?
“Don’t worry, she does it to you too. But why the secrecy?” Matt grabbed his water bottle
and took a long drink.
Partly because he’d wanted to avoid conversations like this. Quinn shifted on the couch, though he knew his discomfort wasn’t his position. “I don’t usually broadcast who I have casual hookups with.”
Matt threw back his head and laughed. “Casual hookups? Is that what you two tell yourselves?”
“Yeah, because that’s all it is. We’re just having sex. We’re not dating or anything.”
“Uh huh. I see.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” And why the fuck was Matt harassing him about this? Yes, Quinn had realized he’d forgiven Natalie for her article. But that was a far cry from falling for her. It was just sex.
“But you guys hang out, right? Like working on cars and stuff. And you watch video while she writes. And you have sex. But that’s not dating?”
“We’re, I guess, friends. Who have an occasional booty call. Because we still have some leftover attraction or something and why the fuck am I even talking about this with you?” Quinn had a therapist for this. And if he’d wanted to talk to Matt about it, he would have brought it up.
“Occasional? How many nights did you sleep there last week?”
“I don’t know. She’s the one who keeps that planner. Ask her. Probably once.” Definitely not more than twice. Sure, they were hooking up more than Quinn had initially planned on, but it wasn’t all the time. And just because they’d abandoned their initial rule of no sleepovers didn’t mean anything other than that they both liked morning sex.
“Four. Or at least you slept here two nights, and we were at the hotel one night.”
“You my social secretary now?”
“Maybe you need one if you don’t even know how often you’re getting laid.”
“We’re not—”
“You know how many nights I slept with my wife last week? Zero. Zee. Row. You slept with your ‘occasional’ booty call who was the love of your life four times. I slept with the love of mine zero.” Matt stared hard at him, all amusement gone from his face. “She’s your fucking girlfriend, Quinn. At least own that. More important, own it with her. She deserves better.”
Quinn scratched his beard. It was longer than he was used to, because everyone knew it was the worst of bad luck to shave during the playoffs. It itched like hell at this length.
Shit, Matt was right. Natalie was totally Quinn’s secret girlfriend. Did she know?
He’d forgiven her. He looked forward to spending time with her. He had lots of amazing sex with her. They were dating. He was—
Quinn shoved to his feet and stalked to the kitchen. Nope, not finishing that thought. He was not ready to go there. “Shut the fuck up,” he said, raising his voice so it would carry to the living room. “What do you know? You’re married and you live with me.”
“Fuck off, man. Just fuck off.”
Chapter 21
“You awake?” Quinn’s breath warmed Natalie’s bare shoulder, his low words sending a shiver through her.
She opened her eyes a crack. It was still dark in her room, but the gray dark of dawn, not the pitch black of midnight. She hummed a mostly affirmative sound and stretched against him.
Well, hello. He was definitely wide awake. Or at least parts of him were. Answering parts of her roused too. “What time is it?” she murmured.
He rolled away from her, leaving her back exposed to the chilly room. Now she shivered for a different reason. When he came back to her and wrapped his warm body around her again, she wriggled deeper into his embrace.
“Almost five thirty. Which means”—he brushed her hair out of the way so he could nibble on her neck—“we have a little time before I need to get up for practice.” His erection twitched against her lower back and arousal flared between her legs.
Yesterday on their day off, they’d had their own little celebration of the Dragons’ win over the Steelers in the Divisional Round to advance to the AFC Championship game. She’d actually cooked a nice meal, set up candles, and used her nicer set of dishes. He’d brought her favorite chocolate éclairs for dessert and they’d fed them to each other. Then he’d carried her to her bed and they’d spent at least as much time pleasuring each other as they had sleeping. They’d probably both regret it later today, but she’d lived on less sleep before. It was the whole reason coffee existed. And they’d agreed he would sleep at home for the rest of the season.
Which meant if the Dragons beat Kansas City on Saturday and went to the Super Bowl, she wouldn’t get to wake up in his arms again for almost three weeks. They could probably still work in a few quickies, but he would be going home to his own bed every night. Plus he’d spend the week leading up to the game in Miami. With all the people and hoopla surrounding Super Bowl week, it would be nearly impossible for them to sneak moments alone.
But she was getting ahead of herself. First they had to win on Saturday and get to the Super Bowl. If they lost, it was a moot point.
“I don’t think I can ever get enough of you,” Quinn murmured as he cupped her breast. His fingers pinched her nipple and her breath caught.
She needed to touch him. She reached back and slid her hand along his side, pausing to squeeze his perfect ass—thanks to dating him in college, she’d permanently become an ass girl. Now he’d probably ruined her for every other ass on the planet. Because how could any other guy possibly compete in that area with a professional athlete?
He already had her so hot, it wasn’t enough. She reached between their bodies and took his cock in her hand.
“Damn, that feels good,” he ground out as she stroked him.
She rearranged him so he could slide between her legs. He immediately started thrusting, sliding through her growing wetness. Yes, this. This was perfect. She pressed her hand against him so that with each thrust, his head caught her clit.
Within moments, they were both panting and desperate. “Now,” she whimpered. “I need you right now.”
This time when he rolled away from her back, she shivered because of the loss of contact, not the chill. Not wanting to lose even a little sensation, she played with her clit while he got a condom and rolled it on.
“Yes, keep touching yourself,” he said as he slid back between her pussy lips. He lifted her leg back over his, opening her, and guided himself inside. He groaned long and low as he slid into her heat.
One of the things Natalie loved about morning sex was the slower, lazier, more intimate pace. Instead of begging him to pound her, she reveled when he simply held himself deep inside her.
The sensations built slowly, the gathering of a storm rather than the storm itself. After so many nights of leaving each other wrecked, this was exactly what she needed. Her fingers continued to move between her legs, but it wasn’t the frantic race toward completion she usually felt. Just gentle arousal, pleasant and perfect.
Quinn’s hand curled over her body, and he played with her breast, almost absently. He nibbled on her shoulder, on the side of her neck, slow and easy. It reminded her of the song lyric “easy like Sunday morning.” It wasn’t Sunday, but maybe that’s what the songwriter had been talking about.
Were things with Quinn becoming easy? Was she fooling herself in thinking they could become something more? That article still lay between them, and she wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her for it. She certainly hadn’t forgiven herself, no matter how many times Annie reminded her that she hadn’t actually done anything wrong.
The past was probably too complicated, and she’d hurt him so many times, how could he ever trust her completely? As much as she loved being with him both in and out of bed, she knew she couldn’t ever have a real long-term relationship with someone who didn’t trust her. And that was the kicker; she was certain he would never trust her.
Quinn gripped her chin and twisted her around toward him. “You’re thinking too much.” He stretche
d so his lips could brush hers. “We need to do something about that.”
She shifted just a little, so she could more easily reach his mouth. “You should probably make me stop.”
He nipped her top lip. “Challenge accepted,” he murmured before plundering her mouth. His tongue swept in and took her deeply. His fingers gripped the side of her face to hold her to him, the swing of his hips sped up, matching the plunges of his tongue.
Her arousal sharpened.
If they could only get past the trust issue. Because this, right here, was so good. When they hung out, it was good.
They continued like that, pausing their kisses to suck in air before diving back in for more.
Abruptly, he pulled out of her. “Need more.” He rose to his knees and flipped her onto her back and then he was on her, his cock sliding inside her with no assistance. His body always found hers.
He always found her.
Natalie opened her eyes to look up at him, and found him watching her, his gaze so intense she almost couldn’t handle it. It was like looking into the burn of a sun. She touched his cheek and whispered his name, the sensations inside her almost too much to bear.
“Natalie,” he breathed across her lips. “Natalie.”
He continued to say her name, soft and sweet and breathless, each time breaking her heart a little more.
She tried to close her eyes, tried to escape the overwhelming intensity of the moment. But she couldn’t. He held her captive. He controlled her. He owned her completely.
She loved him.
She was in love with Quinn Lowry again. Maybe always had been, had never really stopped. She’d been a fool to think they could have one night, let alone several, and she wouldn’t go right back to feeling the way she had so many years ago. Like she needed him in her life more than she needed anything else in the world.
But one thing time had not given her was any clue as to how to have that. She hadn’t been able to keep him then, and she didn’t believe she could now.
