Quinn turned back to Riley. “No one can save you now, my pretty.” She felt his weight on the side of the bed a moment later. “And if it’s restraints ye be wantin’ ...”
She lifted her arm slightly to look at him. “Wait—”
He just grinned, and reached for his patch.
She grinned. “Leave it on.”
“Aye aye, Cap’n,” he said, and rolled on top of her.
He pushed her hands over her head, pinning them down as another breathless laugh escaped her. But that laughter quickly faded as he ran his hands down her arms, and straight over her breasts. She moaned and arched up hard against him as his fingers closed over her nipples.
“Oh, aye. A wench ye are indeed.” He slid down and shoved her shirt up ... and suddenly things shifted from light and funny to lusty and hot. He suckled one nipple and tore her shorts off as she yanked the white linen shirt he’d worn, thankfully open to the waist, from the waistband of his pants. In seconds she was naked and he was pulling on the buckle of his belt and dropping his pants on the floor.
She drove greedy hands into his hair and dragged his mouth to hers as he fell on top of her, parting her legs with the weight of his body. They growled as she shoved her tongue in his mouth just as he yanked her thighs up high on his hips and drove into her.
It was hot and wild. His mouth never left hers and he plundered it in the same rhythm and thrust as he plundered her. She didn’t even try to keep from shouting as she came ... and neither did he.
He collapsed on top of her while still throbbing inside her. She shuddered in the throes of rippling aftershocks. They were breathing so hard, neither could speak. He finally rolled off, tugging her hard against him, her body half splayed across his torso and legs as they dragged air into greedy lungs.
With her cheek pressed against the damp, hot skin of his chest, she felt his hands slide into her hair, stroking, toying. He tucked her foot around his ankle, and slid his other arm over the small of her back. Little things, instinctive things, they were the things that made her know he was always aware of her. Always. And he wanted her to know it.
She slid her hand up his chest, and cupped her palm to the side of his face. That was all, just pressed it there. With a little tilt of her head, she pressed a kiss over his heart. Because she wanted him to know it, too.
As their pounding hearts slowed along with their rapid intake of breath, he let the fingers that were teasing the ends of her hair wander slowly, lightly, across the tops of her shoulders, then traced a path along the length of her spine.
She moved the hand cupping his cheek so her fingers could slide into his thick hair, toy with it, tracing her fingertips around the shell of his ear.
And slowly her body began to stir all over again as she felt his begin to do the same.
Silently, wordlessly, he eased her to her back. Pushing her hair from her cheeks, he caught her gaze. The patch was gone, and his eyes were like blue crystals, dark and flashing, belying the exquisite gentleness of his touch and the protective way he sheltered her body with his own.
He cupped her face, and she felt the finest of tremors shaking his fingers. He tipped her mouth up to his, keeping his gaze locked on hers as he lowered his lips. The intensity was something she’d never seen in him before. When he kissed her it was as if her body, her mind ... her heart—everything she was, or had ever wanted to be—opened to him. He’d laid her utterly bare, but in doing so, had bared himself to her as well.
As he took the kiss deeper, she gave herself over to him. In what was the most intimate act she’d ever experienced, it was the most vulnerable, honest, and elemental way she knew how.
He finally moved on top of her, and took her slowly, almost reverently. His rhythm was steady, powerful, claiming ... just as it was nurturing, compelling, protective. He took her up, higher, sweeter. The only sounds were her gasps, as he took her right to the brink, and kept her there, winding slowly, ever tightening, until she thought she’d splinter into a thousand pieces if he didn’t give her release—which was exactly when he jerked her gently over the edge. Pleasure cascaded through her like a waterfall, gently flowing until it went thundering over the edge and into the abyss.
He kissed her again, framing her face as he pushed deeper, and harder, and she could feel his heartbeat, thundering like her own, pressed against her.
“Riley.” He said just the one word, the only word he’d spoken. She locked her gaze on his as he pushed one last time, hard, deep, and claimed her mouth as his body bucked, shuddered, and shook.
And that, she thought as she wrapped herself around him, holding the weight of him on top of her and him inside her, was how you made love.
They drifted, slept, and when she finally opened her eyes fully again, it was to discover at some point he’d pulled the covers over them. Quinn was on his back with her curled against him, her head on his chest, her leg entwined between his. His arm around the small of her back held her to him, and his other hand was tangled in the lengths of her hair as it draped across his chest.
His steady, even breathing didn’t change as she slowly came awake, and she knew he was still deep in sleep. Staying where she was, which was right where she wanted to be, she let her thoughts wander where they would.
She closed her eyes and listened to the beat of his heart. Well, you don’t have to wonder if he’s capable of being vulnerable with you. She had no idea where that thought had come from. Maybe the intensity of their first time had left them with nothing to protect their more vulnerable selves.
She didn’t know what she was feeling. But she knew she was herself with him, utterly and fully, all the time, in every moment they shared. And that apparently wasn’t going to change.
She realized her ability to be so relaxed with him, so herself, was because she’d never had to strategize, or worry, or plan. She might wish she’d not been a klutz here or a dork there, but it went far deeper than that. At first that had been scary, had made her feel exposed, like her guard was constantly down. Thinking about it, she realized it wasn’t because she was stripped bare of her defenses ... it was because she had no need of them.
If she could purely be her true self there was nothing to defend, no inner part to protect. That begged the question ... protect against what? What had she been so afraid of? Jeremy hadn’t been harsh or critical. She had wondered what his true thoughts or feelings were at times, but he’d never overtly made her feel defensive.
She thought more about that. Though it might seem odd or wrong to be thinking back over personal times, intimate times, spent with one man, while lying in bed in the arms of another, it wasn’t. She was so comfortable, relaxed, at peace, she could finally peel back some of those painful layers and put aside the hurt brought on by betrayal. She could finally look at what her life had been then in a more rational, objective, maybe even impersonal, way.
It was true that Jeremy had been somewhat picky about certain things—particular, he called it. She had known there had been a certain amount of passive-aggressive manipulation on his part, to get what he wanted from her. But it had been so benign. She was, by nature, a pleaser, and she’d loved him, and he’d loved her, so she’d never thought of it as anything other than what someone does when they’re in a relationship.
With the luxury of dispassionate hindsight, she played back moments, and comments, reactions, interactions. Patterns of behavior began to emerge. Not just his, but hers as well. She’d never really asserted her opinions or her wants with him. She’d been so happy to be part of that pair her focus had been on making it a happy, joyful world to exist in. If she’d been asked then, she’d have said she had everything she wanted. If he was happy, so was she. Certainly, he had habits that annoyed her, routines that didn’t mesh with hers, opinions she didn’t share, but those were all things she knew were just part of their yin and yang. It was normal. What wasn’t necessarily normal, and what she saw now, was while Jeremy wasn’t the type to directly point out her flaws or sho
rtcomings as he saw them, he found a way to make it known to her that maybe it would be better—for her—if she changed this, or did that.
Even that was part and parcel of a relationship. She didn’t have to make any of those adjustments, though she always had. Making him happy had brought her joy. But, she realized, she’d never let him know about those same sorts of little things that bugged her. Not because she’d been afraid of making him angry. He was the most even-tempered person she knew. She had loved that about him, in fact. It had made her feel safe and secure knowing he’d never fly off the handle. No, that wasn’t it at all.
She realized she hadn’t pushed any of those opinions, or wants or needs at him, because she’d suspected he wouldn’t have been moved to do for her what she so happily and willingly did for him. It wouldn’t have mattered to him. Making her happy in that way was not something that motivated him, especially if it meant doing something he didn’t want to do.
She’d been so busy making both of them happy, and maintaining the status quo, it had never occurred to her he wasn’t really having to do much of anything. She’d felt needed by him, vital to his happiness. She supposed she had been, but not in the way she’d thought, or the way she should have been.
It wasn’t until the images and memories finally began to coalesce into an accurate picture of what their lives had really been that she understood the real, painful truth: he’d never loved her. Of course, it might have been the only way he knew how to be a partner, how to love. What did that say? What she saw so clearly was that he hadn’t loved her the way she’d assumed he had, or in the way she’d counted on him to. Much less the way she’d loved him.
What she’d thought of as their inseparableness had been Jeremy’s neediness. He’d relied on her for everything. It had made her feel wanted. Strong. Equal. Loved. But when had he ever been there for her? Those times when he appeared to anticipate her needs, brought home dinner—or got her a spa day—she saw that he was really serving his own needs.
That led her to a more personal, painful truth. She’d spent most of the time after their breakup wondering what had been lacking in her, where had she gone wrong, what hadn’t she done right, or what did she need to improve about herself. The only person she’d been letting down and disappointing, whose love she hadn’t been living up to ... was her own.
What she’d needed to do to improve herself was, essentially, grow a pair. Value herself. Acknowledge she had needs that were at least as important as his. Stand up for herself. Be herself.
Somehow, somewhere along the way since coming to Sugarberry, she’d become that woman. The woman she should have been, and should have lived up to, all along.
That woman wouldn’t have put up with Jeremy’s “particu-larness,” at least not without asserting some “particularities” of her own. That woman would have seen through the affection and recognized it as clinginess. In fact, had she been then the woman she was right now, she’d never have fallen in love with Jeremy Wainwright in the first place.
Riley’s eyes blinked wide open. Wow. When, exactly, had she stopped loving Jeremy? And how?
Had it come from finally making choices purely for her self? Had it come from making new friends, real friends? From gaining confidence in who she was, merely by getting up every day and being that person without having to make adjustments for any other person? On the heels of that realization was another revelation. While Jeremy definitely made it known what he expected from her, she realized she’d made a lot of personal adjustments in anticipation of what he’d want. That was entirely on her. Oftentimes, he’d never even asked. She’d made sure he didn’t have to—which meant keeping expectations that, in essence, she’d created herself.
Not that Jeremy wasn’t a complete and utter bastarde! for what he’d done to her, but if she’d been remotely the person she was now, she’d have seen through his bullshit so early on, he’d never have had a chance to pull that selfish stunt on her. She’d have dumped his self-centered ass long before.
She laughed silently at herself, wondering why on earth if felt so good to realize what a ridiculous, blind, needy, clinging dork she’d truly, truly been. Finally ... she got it. She really got it. She knew exactly who she was. And therefore ... who she’d never, ever be again.
That brought her to Quinn.
She shifted, propped her chin on his chest, and watched him sleep. Had he been part of the transformation? She knew the answer to that. And it was a relief. No. She’d already become who she needed to be, a better woman, a better friend. She’d done that for herself, no one else.
She thought about Quinn’s words that day on the beach, about her valuing herself, trusting herself, and finally she understood what he’d been trying to tell her. She’d been that better woman. She just hadn’t tried her new confidence out yet. He’d given her the chance to see herself for who she was now ... and to put that newfound knowledge to work.
Just as her friendships with Lani and Char had helped her to see her value as a friend, Quinn had allowed her to realize her true value as a partner. He had been that final piece falling into place, showing her what a real partner was in return. It was what she’d seen with Lani and Baxter, Char and Carlo. Quinn was someone who would be there for her, see her for who she really was ... and support that person. Maybe even love that person. He’d encouraged her, pushed her to believe in what he knew to be true, to believe she was the woman he was falling for. And trust that woman could handle falling right back.
And she had. Oh yes. Yes, indeed she had.
Chapter 21
Quinn had been awake for some time before he let Riley know about it. He lay there, almost hearing the singing of the wheels as they spun around, furiously, inside her head.
He wished like hell he knew where those spinning wheels were taking her. He couldn’t see her face, so he had no easy gauge.
He hadn’t forgotten a single, heart-searing moment of what they’d done together in that bed this morning, and he knew she hadn’t either. It had been wild and raw, driving him so far past anything he’d experienced in the way of pure, unadulterated pleasure. They’d given themselves over to it with utter abandon and intensity, and had been amply and exhaustively rewarded.
He knew there was trust in that, to let go and to reach like they had. It wasn’t just about heart-slamming, body-pounding sex. What they’d done was possible only because they’d given themselves to each other, trusting the other to match them shout for shout, thrust for thrust.
And then there was that second time ... He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut against the sudden hot sting he felt as tears welled.
He loved her. Hard. Complete. Epic. It was his grandparents’ love story. It was the reason Joe and Hannah’s love story was thumping out of him. And it was going to be his own love story ... . if he hadn’t just scared the living bejesus out of her while he’d let everything bottled up inside him come pouring out in one steady flowing, never-ending stream of gushing emotion.
For the very first time, he understood the depths of the soul-chilling fear that had kept Riley from reaching for love again. It would hurt more than a little if she left him now, if she decided, nope, this wasn’t going to be it for her.
She was it for him. If she walked away, she’d be ripping out everything that was good inside him, and taking it right along with her.
How did anyone go on after something like that? How did anyone even think such a risk was anything other than the most insane act they could ever willingly embark upon? Who in their having-ever-loved mind would put themselves in that place, knowing firsthand the risks they were taking?
Riley had, his little voice snuck in and whispered.
She had at that. She’d taken the initial leap. She might not land where he wanted her to, but the respect he had for how innately strong she truly was had grown to stratospheric heights as he’d lain in bed. He doubted he would ever be able to do the same.
It also gave him a new understanding of his fat
her’s choices. Riley might not understand what she’d done in moving forward, but Quinn understood it. His father had chosen the opposite of Riley. He’d chosen to completely close himself off from feeling anything for anyone. He’d turned inward, focusing on things meaningful to him, like his work, that he could walk away from at the end of the day.
Riley hadn’t done that. She thought she’d closed herself off from risking her heart. But look what she’d done. She’d taken her dog and run away to hide, yes. But she’d made a home for herself here. Made friends, good friends. Made a place for herself in the community, cared for people, as they’d come to care about her. Started, in essence, the family that her fiancé’s choices had robbed her of having. To take it one step further, she’d taken on a job that allowed her to turn house after house into home after home, to pour all of what she wanted into everything she did. He wondered if she realized that instead of closing any part of herself off, she’d put herself out there.
He hoped he’d have done the same. He thought about his life. He kept people at arm’s length. Friends were casual, or more associates and peers than real buddies. He’d tried to reach out to his father; it wasn’t that he didn’t want family. The bottom line was, the people who presently had the deepest entrée to his personal life were on his payroll, for God’s sake. Not that they hadn’t developed an honest respect and affection for one another ... but was that the best he could do when it came to building a family?
And there was Riley.
Maybe he’d just needed someone to show him the way. How to bridge the gap between himself and his father ... to his grandparents.
Thank God for her all over again. He’d been correct, believing that when it was the right thing, it became more all on its own. Important and special, there was no other way for it to be. It was the most mysterious thing, and the simplest thing in the world to see—when he’d finally seen it.
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