Intimacy

by Mattie Bowman

  I smiled at Grant in a silent thank you and followed Jessica out of the room, fully prepared to put last night’s train wreck behind me and start fresh.

  Today, in a Wonderland room of Quinn’s choice, I would rock his world, and get us back to a place that was comfortable and hot and passionate and…us.

  “This is the one you want?” I asked Quinn after Jessica had gone over all the procedures and themes of the Wonderland rooms.

  “Why not?” he asked, a mischievous grin on his face.

  “You want to go, now?” I asked, a little shocked he was ready to dive headfirst into a room.

  “Don’t you?” The question in his eyes didn’t match the confidence on his lips, and I squinted, trying to read him. He glanced at the door before returning his gaze to me.

  I reached up on my tiptoes, planting a soft, slow kiss on his lips. “This one is perfect,” I said and entered the code on the iPad to show it was occupied after opening the door.

  It shut loudly behind us, and we both chuckled.

  “Whoa,” he said. “Candy Shop is right.”

  “Totally,” I said, glancing around the room.

  The walls were brightly colored pinks and blues, and shelf upon shelf of every type of edible delectable hugged them. Sprinkles, whipped cream, chocolate sauce. Bottles of fruit flavored lubricant, edible panties, fresh strawberries. Even some questionable looking gummy candy that I would not be partaking in.

  “There aren’t any dishes,” I said and facepalmed myself when Quinn glanced at me with a cocked eyebrow. “I mean, of course there aren’t any.” I tried miserably to recover my blunder.

  He pulled me to him, smoothing my hair behind my ears. “Who needs a bowl when I have your sexy skin to lick this stuff off of?”

  A warm chill rocketed through my core, his sexy, husky voice penetrating the center of my want-list. “Me?” I innocently batted my eyelashes and shook my head, pushing him back into a chair that sat in the corner of the room. “You’ll be the serving tray tonight.”

  He willingly sank into the chair, looking up at me with nothing but want in his eyes.

  My heart raced. That is exactly what I craved. His undivided attention and the assurance that I was enough to illicit the lust in his eyes or the love in his heart. But did the setting contribute to his reactions? Would he be looking at me like this if we were home?

  I tried to silence the nagging questions, reminding myself I’d chosen to bring us here. That I’d wanted this to see if we could break through the awkward barrier that had held us in chains since Blaire had left the house. The same chains that had likely sent him seeking advice from a—no, not here. I would not think of that here.

  “Hey,” Quinn said, his voice soft as he reached upward to cup my cheek. He smoothed one hand over my hip, holding my gaze. “Where did you go?”

  I swallowed hard, trembling slightly under his touch. Emotions battled inside me—my own damn insecurities clouding the want rushing in my blood—and it overwhelmed me so much I settled on anger at myself for having to question every single thing. The next session I had with Grant, I would tell him everything, and I’d ask him how to silent this annoying part of myself and just let go.

  And that is what I’d do right now. Let go and get lost with Quinn, which is what I so desperately wanted.

  “I’m here. Right here,” I said, throwing a leg over either side of him until our chests pressed against each other.

  Quinn instantly claimed my mouth, his tongue gently swiping at my bottom lip before I opened for him. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me against him in a hungry grasp while he greedily devoured my tongue, sucking it into his mouth. Electricity sparked on each of my nerve endings as he slipped his hands beneath the hem of my shirt, stroking the skin of my back with his rough hands.

  I sighed into his mouth, the sensations slamming me with an unleashed want that had been too long since I’d felt it. He shifted in the chair, using one of his hands to adjust himself, and when he situated me back on top of him, I could feel the hard length of him against me. Lightly nipping at his lip, I rolled my hips against his cock until he growled.

  Grabbing the hem of his shirt, I lifted it over his head, letting it drop to the floor. I bit my lip as I stared at him, allowing my gaze to linger on the body he’d kept as carved as the wood he worked with. I planted kisses down his neck, his broad chest, and finally over his six-pack abs, enjoying the way he moved underneath me with each tease of my tongue on his skin.

  Eyeing him, I slowly unbuttoned his jeans before quickly jerking them off to join his shirt. I massaged his strong thighs as I breathed over the fabric that barely contained his hard cock, and smirked as I made my way back up to his lips.

  “Tease,” he said.

  “We’re just getting started.” I pulled my shirt over my head, proudly showing off the brand new black lace bra I’d purchased for this trip.

  He yanked me to him, burying his face between my breasts, kissing and sucking over the fabric, teasing me as much as I had him. I arched backward, allowing him full access to whatever he wanted, enjoying the way he felt under me. With each lick, each suck, I rolled against him, sending delicious shivers up and down my skin until my breath was ragged.

  “Wait,” I said when his fingers had unzipped my pants.

  “What?” His voice was gravely and near animalistic with want.

  It made my thighs clench and heat pool low in my belly. I stood up and let my pants fall to the floor, relishing the way his eyes popped when he saw I wore a matching thong.

  I glanced around the room. “Wait,” I said again.

  He shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair as if he needed the action to stop his hands from yanking me back to him that instant. The obvious desire had me dying to get him inside me, and it sent my heart soaring.

  This was right. We were right. We’d just needed a little push to get over whatever awkward bubble had taken hold of our relationship the last three months.

  I padded barefoot around the room, taking my time looking at candies or fruits or sauces without really looking at them. I was enjoying teasing him too much, bending over this way or that, reaching up to examine something, but I didn’t read any label card I pretended to. Instead, I watched him from the corner of my eye, loving the way he struggled to stay in the chair, the way he licked his lips, or how his chest rose and fell with bated breaths.

  “You’re just as bad now as you are when we’re at the grocery store,” he finally said, a laugh in his voice.

  I snapped my eyes to him. “Don’t compare this to a shopping trip!”

  He laughed harder. “Why not? You can’t ever make up your mind then, either. Even when we have a list.”

  “You’ll ruin the fantasy of it, that’s why.” I clenched my eyes shut, trying to keep out the thoughts that came naturally when thinking of our life at home.

  “Not for me,” he said, his eyes challenging when I reopened mine.

  I grabbed something off the nearest shelf, barely glancing at the dark purple bottle before stomping toward Quinn. He raised his chin in defiance as I slammed back on top of him. “What are you going to do? Sauce me?” He cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t pick the Spy Room. I would’ve tied you up and teased you until you couldn’t stand it any longer.”

  He gripped a handful of my ass, and I gasped from the bite that sent a thrill through me. “Oh, yeah? We’ll have to try that tomorrow, honey.”

  His pet name made me melty inside which joined the heat flying through my veins. I smirked at him, twisting the tiny cap on the unopened bottle until it was free. A fruity scent filled the air between us, and I pushed out a tiny drop onto the tip of my finger before sucking it into my mouth, making sure to never lose his eyes.

  “Mmm,” I moaned, though I could barely taste the liquid with how little I’d put on my finger. “Maybe this would taste better…” I wiggled against him, garnering another growl that made my c
ore tighten with need. “Here,” I said, slipping down his briefs until they were around his ankles.

  He sucked in a sharp breath when I slathered the fruity substance over his rock hard cock, his hands fisting my hair as I dropped the bottle on the floor. I swiped my tongue over his tip, lightly at first, before fully taking him into my mouth. Swirling my tongue around him, I pumped the length I couldn’t fit in my mouth with my hand, loving how well I knew his body and yet how new he felt with the sauce on him.

  A low groan rumbled from his chest as I sucked and swirled and pumped, my blood rushing from the power I had over him in this moment. He was mine. He just needed to remember that.

  “God, Tara,” he said, a hiss to his tone as his fingers tightened in my hair.

  A few more strokes of my tongue and a tingling sensation filled my mouth. I slowed my pace, taking more time to analyze the specific taste, wondering if mint was mixed into it causing the sensation. After a few seconds, the tingle turned into a full-fledged burn, and I quickly jerked my head back—so fast Quinn jumped in the seat beneath me.

  “What is it—”

  I dove for the bottle I’d discarded on the floor. I grabbed it, reading what I’d ignored before. The dark purple color and fruity smell had made me think it was a grape mixture of some kind. As I read and reread the label, my heart plummeted.

  “Fuck,” I said, but it sounded like fug because my tongue was rapidly swelling.

  “Tara?”

  I tossed the bottle at him, rapidly yanking my clothes back on.

  “Shit,” he said. “Licorice? How the hell did you pick the one flavor you’re allergic to?”

  I flung my arms in the air, wanting to scream that I’d obviously not meant to but not bothering to speak. My mouth was on fire, and I needed to wash the crap out of it before I could think straight. I ran to the bathroom in the room and rinsed my mouth out repeatedly until the sting decreased.

  Quinn knocked on the door before opening it.

  My cheeks were now puffy, my lips faring no better as I looked like I’d gotten stung by a bee. Tears burned the backs of my eyes.

  “Come on, honey,” he said, reaching for me. “Let’s get you back to the suite, and I’ll make you a Benadryl cocktail.”

  I let him guide me out of the room, tears falling freely down my cheeks as the humiliation and disappointment set in. It wasn’t like Quinn hadn’t seen me have this reaction before—he’d been there the first time I’d accidentally gotten a piece of the candy when we were Sophomores. What had my heart sinking was the realization that once again I’d managed to fumble around him…that I’d been so close to reminding him of just how sexy and desirable I was…only to drop the ball so far I didn’t know if I could ever pick it up again.

  6

  Quinn

  I stood at the side of the bed, watching Tara’s chest rise and fall softly for an hour after I’d whipped her up a Benadryl cocktail. Her features were much softer than they had been when we’d gotten back to the room, sleep giving her the relief from whatever ate at her mind. If she didn’t let me in soon, I’d have to force myself in there and dig it out of her, and I really didn’t want to do that.

  I liked it—and she preferred it—when she came to me. Just like a cat, she worked better when I let her approach me as opposed to the other way around. Which was the only reason I hadn’t pressed her recently, but after the events of the past few days—all the botched attempts at intimacy, all the awkward silences—I was worried. A gritty, gnawing worry that had ropes twisting in my gut.

  After her reaction to the fruit sauce she’d slathered on my dick—which had been fucking spectacular until she’d realized the horrible choice in flavor—I wondered if I’d ever get her to shed this need for elaboration and just simply be with me.

  It was the worry that I didn’t excite her anymore that sent me running to the lobby in search of distraction after I’d seen the swelling in her cheeks go down and her breathing completely even out with the deep sleep she’d fallen into.

  I’d planned on grabbing a drink at one of the restaurants, or perhaps shooting a single game of pool in the Billiard’s room when I spotted Anderson walking down a long hallway off of the front desk. For some reason—perhaps it was his untucked shirt or the loose way he swung his arms—I assumed he wasn’t heading toward another client bound duty.

  “Anderson!” I called out after him, and he slowed to turn around.

  “Mr...Quinn?” He asked, stumbling over the first name I’d made him call be by.

  I caught up to him and slipped my hands into my pockets, suddenly unsure of why I stopped him.

  “I apologize, I assumed you and your wife would be…otherwise engaged for the remainder of the night. Is there something I can do for you?” He frantically started to re-tuck his shirt, and I shook my head.

  “No,” I said and shrugged. “Tara had…” I searched my mind for the right explanation. “A reaction to something.”

  “Is she all right? Does she need medical attention? We have a full medical staff on retainer—”

  I held up my hand to stop him. “She’s good. I fixed her up with some meds.” I pressed my lips together. “She’s just passed out and I…” Wanted out of the quiet room where I was left with nothing but my questioning thoughts. The uncertainty surrounding Tara’s moods eating me up until it drove me insane.

  “Got bored?” Anderson filled in for me, and I chuckled, the air flying out of my lungs in relief.

  “Yeah.”

  He tilted his head, narrowing his gaze on me. “You any good at cards?”

  “Depends on the game.”

  “Poker?” He arched an eyebrow at me.

  I smiled. “I can play.”

  “Want to?” He motioned over his shoulder toward the long hallway he’d been walking down before I stopped him. “My other charges told me to take the night off. Was on my way to play with some of the resort boys, you in?”

  I nodded, the tension in my shoulders unwinding a fraction. Cards would be the perfect distraction, and with Tara dead to the world, she wouldn’t miss me. “Absolutely.”

  Anderson nodded and picked up the walk down the hallway, me falling into step beside him. “I like this version of you much better,” I said after a few moments.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Like I said, you never know who likes what in this place.”

  “Seems like you do all right, though.” We rounded yet another corner, and I was sure if Anderson hadn’t been leading the way I would be so beyond lost in the maze. How big was this place?

  “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. Truly. It’s just…” he scratched his thick black hair for a moment before shrugging. “People are hard to figure, and couples? Even harder. You have to anticipate what each one likes, and then what they do and do not like together. Some of it has become second nature to me—feeding off the moods, the energy—but mainly? The professional, want-to-be English butler is what they want. I’ve only had a few that want me to be me.”

  “Like Tara and me?”

  “Yeah,” he said before jerking his hand to the left. “Here we are.” He opened a door, and we walked into a room smaller than our suite, but still spacious enough to have a kitchen and an eight-person poker table. “Everyone, this is Quinn. He’s going to sit in.”

  A succession of hi, Quinns, rounded the table where five other men sat distributing chips to each seat. I sank into an empty one and accepted the beer Anderson offered me. After everyone else was situated, we started playing, falling into an easy routine of loose hands and even more shit talking. It was the perfect distraction, ten times better than a drink alone in the restaurant.

  “Thanks,” I said to Anderson after a few hands and tapped my beer against his.

  “No worries, man,” he said, taking a swig. He folded his cards, and I did too. “What do you think so far?”

  “Game is nice,” I said, watching the two people with cards bet.

  “No,” he said. “I mea
n about the resort. The fantasies? Wonderland?”

  I swallowed hard, my thoughts traveling straight back to our suite where Tara was now sleeping a drug-induced slumber in order to get over the allergic reaction she had to my dick…okay, not my dick but still. I couldn’t help but feel like I could do nothing right when it came to her lately, and it was infuriating because all I wanted was to make her happy.

  “That bad, huh?” Anderson said before I could remember what he’d asked.

  I scoffed, but from the knowing look in his eyes, he didn’t buy it. “It’s not the resort,” I finally said. “It’s us. We’re off, and I don’t know why.” I chugged another gulp of my beer, emptying it and graciously accepting another one from him after he’d gotten up to grab one for himself. I didn’t have a clue why I was letting a complete stranger know this about us, as I hadn’t uttered a word of my worry to anyone else, but maybe that was the point. Anderson was a good kid, and he didn’t know us, not really. Maybe he could offer some kind of outside perspective.

  Maybe I was desperate or on my way to drunk.

  “Why is that?” He asked, sitting back down after getting our beers.

  I drank instead of answering, not sure if I could go into that much detail yet.

  “It’s cool,” he said, raising his hands. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “We just dropped our daughter off at college a few months ago.” I blurted out as if that explained everything. In reality, it only marked the time in our relationship that I felt a shift. Like with Blaire gone Tara suddenly didn’t understand what she was doing with me anymore.

  Fuck. The clarity of that thought hit me straight in the chest, and I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it in those terms before now.

  “You have a kid? In college?” Anderson asked, squinting at me like he was looking for the wrinkles I apparently should’ve had.