“I didn’t reject you.”
She acted as if she hadn’t even heard him. “But I am much happier to be your friend now, and that’s it, no matter how much I may have wanted more then.”
Then. Not now. There was nothing Quin could say, and every word was a dagger slicing deeply into his chest. But he couldn’t dispute that they weren’t true. No matter how much he’d tried to fight the reputation he’d built in his twenties. It was his legacy—the party guy. The screwup. “I’m going to go,” she said, standing.
“The sun’s about to rise.” He pointed out at the pink, orange and yellow cresting on the horizon, desperation tinting his voice. He didn’t want her to go yet. She’d talked about being his friend, but he was convinced that if he let her go now, another eight years might pass before he saw her again. “You don’t want to stick around to watch?”
The breeze blew her hair and she held it in a fist over one shoulder, as she took in the new light on the horizon. “No. I’m leaving,” she told him, her voice defiant. “I’m just going to walk. I don’t live far from here.”
Quin nodded and pushed himself up from the sand. “I’ll take you home.”
“No,” she said. “If you take me home, I don’t trust myself to not invite you in.”
“Would that be so bad?” he asked, only half-joking.
“It would be for me,” she said.
“Why?” He tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “Because you haven’t unpacked any of your things from the move? I don’t mind a bit of a mess.”
She laughed. “You know that’s not why I can’t invite you in, Quin.”
“Well, that’s your problem because there’s no way I’m letting you walk home alone at this hour.”
“It’s not necessary,” she said. “I have pepper spray in my purse. I’ll be okay.”
“I’m walking you home.”
“Fine,” she said. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
Together, they left the beach, but this time, there was space between them. Their hands didn’t brush, nor did he long to reach out and hold her hand, like he had on their way there. Every one of his muscles ached with the tension of wanting her. But she’d put the brakes on anything else happening between them. Even though she’d laid down the line of their relationship—just friends—there was still a ripple of sexual tension between them.
But she’d said her piece, and a lot of other things. Desire made way for melancholy, and he thought about what she’d said to him. Not a relationship guy. She’d hit him squarely on his head. He was the guy you call for a fun night. He’d known it for a long time, but to hear her say it out loud... It hurt.
They walked in silence for several blocks, leaving him to wonder how it was possible in those shoes she was wearing.
“How are your feet?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She stopped in front of a white bungalow. “This is me.”
In the dim light of the morning, he could see that her yard was overgrown, and the palm trees in front needed trimming, but her house was small, and looked to be in good repair. “It’s cute. This is a nice neighborhood.”
“Thanks. Yeah, I like it. It’s quiet. Although, I do keep getting the side-eye from the neighbors because of the yard. I really need to find a landscaper. I just haven’t had time.”
“I know what that’s like. I’ll send you the number for mine if you want.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
Despite the fact that he’d just made her come on the beach, he knew that their time together was drawing to a close. She’d been in town for a while and hadn’t contacted him. Only a series of coincidences had put them together. He was afraid that when he said goodbye to her, he probably wouldn’t see her again.
“I guess I’d better get inside before the neighbors call the cops because they think we’re lurkers.”
“All right then.” She turned to go inside, but Quin stopped her, putting his fingers around her wrist, surprising himself more than he’d surprised her. “Celia, wait.”
“What?”
He wasn’t sure why he’d stopped her—just plain old desperation? He wasn’t sure what to say, but it had to be something. “I’m going out of town tomorrow,” he told her. “This is short notice, I know. But I have this work trip. I’m leaving for the Caribbean for three days. Do you want to come with me?”
“I—”
He took a step closer. “Just as friends,” he assured her, not certain if he was telling the truth or not. But he could still smell her on his skin, and he was willing to promise her anything. “I’ll be working, but when I’m not, it would be a good opportunity for us to get to know each other again.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I’d like to see you again. Is that a good enough reason?” Quin’s heart pounded in his chest. It was like he was a teenager again, asking a girl out on a date, instead of a thirty-year-old man.
“That sounds like it would be amazing...” she said, trailing off. “But I have a work thing next week, too. My boss is going out of town and I have a lot to do.”
“Okay, no harm in trying, right?”
“I guess not,” she said.
That time, his pride took the hit. “You know, never mind. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m still drunk.” He wasn’t drunk. This was why he wasn’t the relationship guy. It was exactly why he never put himself on the line. He stopped, realizing that maybe this was just a fraction of what Celia had felt that night at their graduation party.
She put her hand on the doorknob. She would go inside her house and close the door. But she didn’t. Celia turned back to face him. “Why don’t we get together when you get back?” she asked.
“We can have lunch.” She’d firmly established that if they were to have any sort of relationship now, it would be a purely platonic one. He could do that. Right? As he felt his desire for her rise again, he tried his best to tamp it down.
“Sounds good. ’Bye, Quin,” she said. There was a finality to her voice, and he needed to stop her before she walked inside.
“Just a second,” he said.
“What is it?”
“I just want one more.” And he was on her. He kissed her. His mouth hungry for her lips. When she kissed him back, he thought he might die. He groaned into her mouth and pulled her close—one hand squeezed her ass, the other went to the back of her thigh, lifting it, pushing his dick against her. She moaned.
When they separated, her chest was pressed against his, and she looked up at him, wide-eyed, in the growing light of dawn. “Quin,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I know I’m going to end up hating myself for this. But do you want to come in?”
“I do.”
* * *
Celia knew it was stupid as she led Quin into her new house. She’d tried to be strong, to leave him behind on the beach and in the past, but he just came charging back into her life whether she wanted him to or not. And it didn’t seem like he’d be leaving anytime soon.
But tell that to her body, which had wanted him since that first day in freshman computer-science class. Then, she knew she wasn’t Quin’s type, she’d been on the bookish side, not glamourous like the girls he’d dated for short periods of time. They’d had almost nothing in common at first, but they’d developed a fast friendship. Yet every day they’d been together, she’d wanted more. Finally telling him how she felt had blown up dramatically in her face, and as he followed closely behind her now, she knew that this time would, too. But she just couldn’t help herself.
“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked, his lips against hers.
“In the back.” He walked her to the bedroom.
“Condoms?” he asked.
“In the en suite,” she told him, almost breathless from his kisses, as his fingers
pushed her skirt up and her panties down.
They ended up in the bathroom, ripping at each other’s clothes, and she pulled the box of condoms from the medicine cabinet. “Here.”
“Thank God,” he said. “Not fucking you on that beach was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”
She pushed down his pants and boxers. He rolled the condom over himself and lifted her against the glass wall of the shower. Celia reached above her and gripped the metal railing of the door. Before she even had a chance to breathe, Quin was inside of her.
Celia closed her eyes and reveled in how he filled her. She knew she would live to regret this moment. She knew that Quin would wind up breaking her heart, but there was no way she wasn’t going to have one night with him. This was what she’d waited for since the first day she’d met Quin, and it was as amazing as she’d hoped it would be.
He thrust his hips, filling her, withdrawing, entering her again as she held on for dear life in her small, cramped master bathroom. He pulled her away from the shower door and, still inside of her, gripping her ass, his lips stealing the breath from hers and her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, he walked her to her bedroom.
Quin pulled her stretchy dress over her head, and she was now naked. He lowered her on the bed and followed her down. She felt vulnerable—not because she was naked and he was still fully dressed, but because she was with Quin. He was dangerous to her, and she knew it, but as her orgasm built, she knew that for this one time with him, she would probably pay the price with her heart for the rest of her life.
Using his lips and his skilled fingers, Quin played her body like he’d been doing so his entire life.
With his lips he made a trail up her throat, his tongue flicking the sensitive hollow there. He nipped her earlobe between his teeth. “What do you like?” he asked, his voice a breathy whisper that tickled her ear.
Her whole body responded to his touch. Did he want her to say it out loud? “This,” she sighed. “I like this.”
“What do you like?” he repeated.
What did he want her to say? She didn’t want anything else. Everything he was doing was perfect. “Just don’t stop,” she told him, choking out the words in desperation. “I’m so close.”
“You got it,” he told her, his voice hoarse. He sped up his thrusts, adding a slight swivel to his hips that hit her just right. The sensation rose in her, starting deep in her core, spreading through her limbs, pleasure blooming until it grew to a fevered height. There was an explosion within her, and she cried out, gripping Quin’s back, squeezing him closer to her, taking his weight as he found his own release, his low moan rumbling in her ear.
He stayed inside of her as their breaths slowed down. “That was incredible,” he told her. He looked down at her with such a tender expression that it almost broke her heart. It was how she wished he’d looked at her when she was a younger woman. And if she was younger, she might have fallen for it. But not now, she realized as her heart rate slowed to a normal pace.
She shifted underneath him, and he rolled off her. The moment passed. Without saying anything, he stood and walked into the bathroom. When he came back, she was pulling back the bed covers. He leaned against the doorframe, his shirt open, revealing his tight, trim chest and stomach. “You’re going to bed?”
She lowered the blinds of the window, blocking the orange morning light. “I’ve got to get some sleep,” she told him. “I’ve got a long week coming up.” With Jared out of town, she was looking forward to getting her work done without him hovering over her shoulder.
“I guess I’ll get out of your way then,” Quin said. She noticed that things had again become awkward. And she hated that more than anything.
“Do you want to stay?” As long as she was making questionable choices...
He paused buttoning his shirt halfway up his chest. “I didn’t expect that.” He hesitated before speaking again. “You want me to?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” It wouldn’t be the first time they’d shared a bed—they’d had overnight study sessions and movie nights—but it would be their first as lovers.
He smiled and walked to her. “Yeah, sure. I’d love to.”
CHAPTER FOUR
WHEN QUIN ROLLED over in the strange bed, his eyes fluttered open as he inhaled a floral scent on the pillow. It took several seconds before he realized where he was. He looked around at the opened moving boxes that lined the walls, and he remembered he was in Celia’s bedroom. It all came back to him—meeting her at the club, sitting with her on the beach, walking her home, kissing her like he might die without her. He thought it might have been the result of the sexiest dream he’d had in a long time. But it had all been real. He located his cell phone and watch, which he’d left on the bedside table, and saw that only a couple of hours had passed since they’d gone to sleep. He reached over to find Celia’s side was cold and empty.
Where was she?
He stood from the bed and found his pants and pulled them on. Carrying his shirt, Quin followed the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen. From his spot in the entryway, he watched Celia, standing with her back to him, looking out the window into the backyard. Her dark mane was pulled up into a loose bun, and he saw the fine hairs on the back of her neck; they begged to be touched. She looked so peaceful and deep in thought that he didn’t want to disturb her.
“Hey,” he said, finally getting her attention.
She turned. “Oh, hi.”
He pointed to the coffeemaker. “Mind if I have a cup?”
“Not at all,” she said, reaching into a cupboard and grabbing a mug for him. “Do you still take it black?”
“I do. Thanks.”
The navy-and-gold logo on the mug made him do a double take. Seacoast Prestige. Weird. He was too sleep-deprived to give it much thought as he poured coffee into the mug. It reminded him that he had to get home and get some food before quickly packing and heading to the airport. But not before he and Celia had an important conversation.
He could see that she was distracted. “Are you okay?” She may have changed her hair color, but she was still the same Celia he’d known years ago. Her mind was occupied by something, and he knew exactly what that something was.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
He nodded. He wished like hell he could take away the awkwardness between them. He’d had lovers, but leaving shortly after they were done was his specialty. He never stayed the night—or for a few hours in the morning—but this stunted post-sex conversation was new and frustrating for him. He had no idea how to gracefully extricate himself from the situation, and still maintain the friendship. He’d waited eight years to see her again, and he wasn’t going to let her slip away now. Hell, Quin would even give up sex with her forever, if they could just go back to being friends. He hoped that they hadn’t ruined everything the night before. “Last night was great,” he told her. “I guess this morning would be more accurate.”
She nodded. “Yeah, it was. Honestly, it was a long time coming,” she said.
“I think so, too.”
She took a deep breath. “But you know it probably shouldn’t happen again, though, right?”
That was disappointing to hear. He and Celia had been great together in bed. But, of course, she was right. He drank from his mug to hide his frown. “Is there anything we need to talk about?”
She shrugged. Her gaze was caught on his chest, so he put down his mug and put on his shirt. “Probably. But what else is there to say?”
“Are you sorry it happened?” He held his breath, waiting for her answer.
“No. I wouldn’t have invited you in, or invited you to stay, if I didn’t want it.”
“I’m glad. I’d hate to think I’d imposed in any way.”
“But I meant everything I said to you last night, though,” she told him. “I can’t
let myself fall for you again. But I do want to be friends. We were always good at that. And we never had any of this awkwardness,” she said, waving her hands back and forth between them.
“You feel that, too?” he asked with a chuckle, feeling more at ease already, now that they’d addressed it.
“Maybe it’s for the best that we never had a romantic relationship, no matter how much I’d wanted it back in the day.”
“Sex can have the potential to complicate things.”
“Yeah. Let’s not let it complicate things any further, okay?”
“Maybe we should leave this as a one-night thing,” she said. “Chalk it up to just eight years’ worth of unfinished business that we had to get out of our systems. And let’s just try to be friends again.”
“No more than scratching an itch,” he agreed.
“Exactly.”
“Sounds good to me.” He drained his mug. “Thanks for the coffee. I should be running. I’ve got to get breakfast and then pack.”
“Right. Your work trip.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to come?”
“Don’t think I wouldn’t rather do that than work.”
He laughed and handed her his cell phone. “Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll call you when I get back.”
She tapped her thumbs over the screen of his phone and handed it back.
“That’s not a fake number now, is it?” he asked, joking.
“I guess you won’t know until you get back,” she said playfully.
He hit the call button under her contact information. He heard nothing and looked at her. “I keep my phone on silent,” she told him. “I don’t think I’ve actually heard the ringer since 2014.”
As You Crave It Page 4
