Without hesitation, she put her hand in his.
Quin led her back inside and through the club to a busy horseshoe-shaped bar. There was a crowd surrounding the bar, several people deep, and she wondered how long they would have to wait for a drink. She should have known, however, that Quin Rexford wouldn’t have to wait for anything. He released Celia’s hand and strolled behind the bar, careful not to get in the way of the busy bar staff, not that they seemed to mind that he was there. He reached under the bar, threw down several bills on the top and smiled at the bartenders.
When he emerged from behind the bar, Quin was holding a wine bottle low against his thigh. He hid it under his jacket, so security wouldn’t see, and held it in place with his arm. He grinned and put a finger to his lips, and then took her hand again and led her out of the club.
“Where are we going?” With her palm pressed solidly against his, Celia walked onto the sidewalk with Quin. Even though the sun had gone down many hours ago, the night was still quite warm and almost damp with humidity. She took in a heavy breath of the salty air, and she knew she was back home. She glanced up at Quin. Just like old times. But it was nothing like old times. They’d been best friends, but something had shifted between them since then. Time and distance, among other things, had divided them.
“Somewhere we used to go a lot back in the day with a bottle of wine and time on our hands.”
She smiled at the memories. “The beach.”
“You know it.”
They continued walking. Thankfully, the sandy beach was within sight. She didn’t believe that her feet would make it much farther. She looked down at her gorgeous, but ridiculously high, stilettos. Four-inch spiky heels with pointy toes that held the arch of her feet at a near-impossible angle. “You know, I’m really relieved you’re taking me to the beach because that means I can take these shoes off eventually. I knew these were a mistake two seconds after I put them on.”
Quin stopped walking and handed her the bottle of wine. He bent at his waist. “Get on,” he told her.
“Get on what?” she asked.
“My back,” he said simply. “Those shoes suck, and your feet hurt.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “Fine,” she said, and jumped on. “But I won’t let you talk about my shoes like that.” He grasped her thighs and walked in the direction of the beach. It was where they’d always gone when they were younger. They would sit and talk, listening to the water crash against the sand. Things were simple then, before their relationship had been complicated. They had been young and optimistic, and they’d had their entire lives ahead of them.
She clutched the wine bottle in one hand, her arm crooked around his neck. With her other hand, she held the bottom of her short skirt, in an attempt to preserve her modesty.
It was a short walk to the beach and when Quin reached the sand, he lowered her to her feet. They both kicked off their shoes, and she sank her feet into the sand, wiggling her cramped toes in the cool granules. Walking toward the water, they picked an arbitrary spot close to the tide line, where he shook off his jacket and flattened it on the sand so she could sit.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” she told him. “Thought this place closed at ten.”
Quin shrugged. “How does one close a beach?”
He was still standing, and she held up the wine bottle to him. “You didn’t happen to steal a corkscrew, now did you?”
“I got it.” He took the bottle from her, removed the foil from the top of the bottle and put it into one pocket, careful not to litter. He pulled his house keys from the other. She watched with interest as he pushed a key into the cork at an angle, until most of it was lodged inside. “And I didn’t steal anything,” he explained. “I paid for this.” With a couple of twists of the key, the cork was free, and Celia was impressed.
“You’re resourceful.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” he told her, sitting on the sand next to her. He took a drink from the bottle and handed it over.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked.
“What?”
“Why’d you look so miserable when you came to the club?”
She drank from the bottle. “I didn’t really want to come out tonight. But my girlfriends nagged me to go.”
“Something wrong?”
She handed him the bottle. “Just work stuff. It’s been a long couple of weeks. I just wasn’t feeling the club tonight. Let me ask you—why were you hiding out on the patio? That’s not like you. You’re normally at the center of the party.”
He shrugged, before raising the bottle to his lips. “I was just getting away from the noise. Like you, I wasn’t having much fun. I was just about to leave when I saw you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Me, too.”
“Of course, you weren’t exactly hiding out there, watching me through the open door.”
He laughed. “I guess I’m busted.”
“Did you think you were being slick?”
“A little. I was hoping it wasn’t too creepy.”
“If you were, I wouldn’t have come out to talk to you.”
He sidled a little closer, so that their arms touched. “I can’t believe you’re here. That we’re here together again. You just couldn’t stay away, huh?”
“Not really. I think it was inevitable that I would end up back here in Miami—the ocean, the heat.” She took in another lungful of the humid, salty air. “For years I thought about coming back, and I was finally given the opportunity to do it. I loved New York, but Miami is where I belong.”
“I know what you mean,” he said, passing the bottle back to her. “I can’t imagine calling anywhere else home.”
She took another swallow of the wine, and she looked at the man next to her. “You know, Quin, I really did miss you.”
He smiled. “I missed you, too.”
“Tell me about what’s going on. You told me about the distillery, but what about your personal life?”
Quin shrugged. “Nothing new really. Just work, parties—”
“Classic Quin,” she said. “Women?”
“Some women,” he confirmed. “Nothing serious. How about you? Any male models or Wall Street types going to come down here to bring you back to New York?”
“Hardly. I’m not really into the model or Wall Street types,” she said, laughing, relieved they were back in Quin-and-Celia territory. “But no. No guys. I’ve been trying to focus on work.” She’d seen men, dated somewhat frequently—she wasn’t a nun—but nothing that lasted, not one guy she’d wanted to form a connection with or that she wanted to stick around. She wouldn’t admit that it was because no guy could live up to the image of Quin in her head. “I’m not interested in anything serious right now. You?”
“No current relationships,” he told her. She couldn’t control the satisfaction she felt at hearing that. But she knew about Quin’s relationships. As a younger man, Quin had women in and out of his life, circling through a revolving door that led to his bedroom. She couldn’t imagine that he’d changed much since then.
They fell into a silence, but this time, it was more comfortable, not at all awkward. She instinctively moved closer to him, just like she always did when they were together, and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She looked up and smiled, and he smiled back. She may have come back to Miami because it was what was familiar to her, but it finally felt like she was home.
CHAPTER THREE
QUIN RESTED HIS head on top of Celia’s. Under his hand, her skin was soft and warm. He almost couldn’t believe that she was sitting here with him again. Not a day had passed in eight years when he hadn’t thought about Celia. He never imagined he’d get another opportunity to be close to her, so he relished it and pulled her clo
ser. They sat like that, and except for the roar of the water on the sand, and his own heartbeat, it was silent. After a while, Quin noticed that the sky was beginning to lighten from an obsidian black to a deep violet and he realized that he had no idea how much time had passed.
“I’m glad you decided to come out here with me,” he said.
“I’m glad you asked me.” Her voice was almost a sigh.
“You always loved the beach.”
“Yeah, but I don’t get to see much of it these days.”
“Neither do I.”
Celia shook her head and looked off into the horizon, which would welcome the sunrise. This late at night—or early in the morning—despite the hustle and bustle of the city, the beach was almost vacant, probably because they weren’t supposed to be there. But he had no regrets—the beach was downright serene. The air was still, tranquil, with the only sounds the dull roar of the water crashing against the sand, and then pulling back, mixed with their own breaths, and the beating of his heart.
Apparently not caring about getting sand in her hair, Celia lay back on the beach and fixed her eyes on the sky. Quin joined her, lying back, resting his weight on his forearms. He looked over at her. She looked so beautiful in the lightening morning sky that his chest tightened. They had a history together, and even though he knew she might push him away, he couldn’t help but lean over her.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that because I’m hot now.”
In college, she had never been a woman who wore flashy clothing or makeup, and that was fine. She was gorgeous now—but she had also been gorgeous then. But he’d been too much of an idiot—too afraid of catching feelings—to go for it and take a chance with her. “You were always hot,” he assured her. How badly had he wanted her the night of the graduation party? But he just couldn’t. He had been terrified of pushing her away. But as it turned out, he’d pushed her away, anyway.
“Sure. I was just the mousy girl from computer science.”
“I thought you looked good then, too.” Whether it was their romantic surroundings, or that the shock of seeing her had worn off, he had finally let down his guard, allowing a slow-burning desire come over him as he looked over her, in repose on the sand. He wanted to kiss her, touch her. Their eyes connected in the dim light of sky. Her smile was wide and he wanted her to wonder if—just maybe—she had the same things on her mind.
“You’re such a fucking liar, Quin,” she said, interrupting his thoughts with a laugh. “What, with my frizzy hair and no sense of style—”
“Will you just shut up for a second and let me kiss you?” She gasped, and just seconds later, he went for it and his lips brushed lightly against hers. A surprised sound emanated from her throat, but he was relieved that she didn’t push him away. When she parted her lips, he deepened the kiss and his tongue entered her mouth. Her mouth was hot, but sweet, and she tasted like red wine, rum and pineapple. An exquisite combination. Her tongue slid along his and as she kissed him back, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down over her, drawing him closer.
Sinking into the kiss, he rested on top of her, bracing himself on his forearms, kneeling between her parted thighs. She moaned at his touch and Celia shifted her hips underneath him. Her short dress had ridden up, but he was still fully dressed as he nudged his hard dick against her heat. Even through their layers of clothing, the contact forced a shudder through his body. He wedged his thighs against hers, parting her legs even more, and his hands went underneath her skirt, driving it up higher. He could feel her heat on his leg, and he moaned into her mouth when she ground herself against him. Still kissing her, Quin cupped her breast with his palm, and pulled down the low neckline of her dress and the cup of her bra, to reveal her. He trailed his lips over her jawline and down the smooth, sensitive skin of her throat, taking the rosy bud of her nipple between his lips. He pinched, sucked, nibbled her and she cried out into the early morning sky as her fingernails raked down his back, clawing him through his shirt.
Celia’s hands came between them, and it took him a moment before he realized that she was unbuttoning his pants. Knowing exactly what was on her mind, he groaned into the crook of her neck.
She slid her hand past his zipper and gripped his dick. He gasped against her skin and pushed his hips against her hand, thrusting into her grip. Leaning on one forearm, careful not to crush her into the sand, he used one hand to squeeze the round curve of her ass. His hands ventured to her front, and with her moan of permission, he delved under her panties and cupped her mound, sliding his fingertips over her, finding her hot and wet. She gasped at his touch, and the shifting forward of her hips urged him on. He skimmed along her bare flesh, before delving into the folds. She pushed against his fingers. He wanted to taste her, to bury himself deeply inside of her, and make her scream out, and he wondered how long they had alone on the beach before the early risers and city workers would join them out here. His fingertips danced along her clit, skirting over her sensitive flesh, and she threw her head against the sand, exposing the soft skin of her throat. He drew his tongue up her neck as he slid one finger, and then another, inside of her.
Desperate to kiss her again, he leaned in for a sample of the delicate skin of her throat. He kissed her pulse point and used his lips and teeth to trace her jaw, as she writhed underneath him as he stroked her intimately with his fingers. Celia’s breath increased, and then it hitched as she closed her eyes and bit her lip. The way her body stiffened against his and her tight pussy clenched around him, he knew that she was in the throes of her orgasm. He increased the speed of his fingers, jutting in and out of her and using the heel of his hand, and firmed the pressure on her clit. Her eyes fluttered shut and she shook in his arms. He held a steady pace until the tremors that racked through her body quieted.
As Celia caught her breath, she gripped his dick again. The pressure was exquisite, and he thought he might explode. “Do you have a condom?” she said, her voice breathy in his ear.
Fuck. Quin pushed himself up and looked down at her. “No. I wasn’t prepared for this.” He hadn’t been planning on having sex tonight. “Especially not on a public beach.”
She looked skeptical. “You weren’t prepared, really? You? A night on the town and you don’t bring anything?”
That one mistake of not putting a condom in his wallet that evening was the only thing that stood in the way of him having Celia. He pushed himself off her and lay down beside her on the sand.
“You know, I’m not a complete horndog,” he told her, a little bothered that she’d rightfully guessed about his lifestyle, post-college. Add Celia to the list of people who didn’t believe he could change or grow as a person, he realized with a frown.
But she hadn’t noticed his change in mood, and she stroked his still fully erect penis. “You know,” she said, with a small purr in her voice, “there are still things we can do without a condom.”
She was right, there were things they could do, but regretfully, the moment had passed. He removed her hand, zipped his pants and sat up in the sand. Celia took the hint and began straightening her clothes.
They were quiet again; the only sounds were the ocean and the seabirds waking for their breakfast.
“It got late,” she noted.
“Or early, I guess. Depending on who you ask.”
“I guess we should go.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“We’re not twenty-two anymore, Quin.”
“No, I guess we aren’t.” He paused. He didn’t want to ask the question—wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer. But he asked, anyway. “Really, though, why didn’t you call me when you came to town?”
Celia was quiet for a moment before she spoke. She looked resigned. “Because I couldn’t do it again. You’re the one reason I almost didn’t come back here.”
> The words hit him like a blow to the chest. He knew what she meant, but he needed her to say the words. “Couldn’t do what?”
“Don’t play stupid,” she admonished him. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I loved you, Quin. I was in love with you. I know it was eight years ago, but that night I put everything on the line. We might have been drunk, and you probably thought we were just fooling around. But it wasn’t just that for me. There was always more for me, but not for you. And you made that abundantly clear. I wanted too much of you—and that was more than you could give.”
“Okay.” He processed what she’d just told him. He knew he’d screwed up that night. But the fear had stopped him from making what could have been the best decision of his life. And it was the same fear that led him to make the biggest mistake. “I know I hurt you—”
“No, Quin, it wasn’t that you hurt me.” She paused. “Well, I guess you did. But it wasn’t anything you did. I should have expected you to do something like going after those girls. But really, it was who you were. I let myself be hurt by you.”
He nodded, saying nothing. He’d asked for her response, and he could tell that she’d been holding on to it for a long time. He owed her the release.
“I wanted all of you,” she explained. “But there was only so much of you to spread around.”
Of course. It always came down to the childish lifestyle he’d led up until recently. “You’re right. Not a day goes by that I wish I had acted differently.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this. It’s probably the alcohol, I guess. Maybe the orgasm...” She laughed “I just need to shut up.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
She sighed. “What do you want me to say? You’ve never been the relationship guy. You’ve always been the guy to call for a good time. All-night clubs, popping bottles, making it rain.” She shook her head and flashed him a pity-filled smile. “You’re never going to settle down. And that’s okay. It’s what you want.” He opened his mouth to counter, to tell her that she was wrong and that he’d changed. But he hadn’t, so he just let her keep going. “But me?” she said. “I need more than that. I always have. And tonight—this was a lot of fun, but you can agree that it shouldn’t have happened, right? Crazy to think that eight years later, and I’m still being rejected by you. You didn’t even want that blow job.”
As You Crave It Page 3
