After Quinn and I spent an incredible Thanksgiving weekend together, I found out Monday morning that I had to make an unplanned trip to Hong Kong. It took several days of meetings to wrap up a real estate deal, so I had to stay all week.
It’ll be Friday evening New York time when I land, and I can hardly wait to see Quinn. We texted a lot while I was gone, but it’s not the same. I miss waking up to the citrusy smell of her hair and hearing her voice as soon as I walk in from work.
I miss her body, too. Now that I know exactly what gets her going, there’s no place I’d rather be than in bed with her. She’s the most responsive woman I’ve ever been with and it’s addictive. Every moan and arch of her back give me a high.
We finally touch down, and I text her that I’ve landed. I’m still wearing a suit since I flew home immediately after a meeting, but I’m sure it looks less than stellar by now. I like my suits newly dry cleaned and my shirts freshly pressed, but right now that’s the furthest thing from my mind. I’m only thinking about seeing Quinn and getting this suit off.
Roy’s waiting for me. He drives me home with little conversation, and when I step off the elevator from the parking garage, Quinn is in the kitchen fanning something on the stove with an oven mitt.
“Fuck this,” she mutters. I smile and walk toward her.
She looks up and gives me a halfhearted smile. “Hey, I was cooking you dinner.”
“Yeah?”
“Hope you’re not hungry. I burned it.”
I toss my jacket, tie, and shoulder bag onto the island. “I’m not hungry.”
“Good.”
She’s got her hair pulled back, and I admire the long, lean line of her neck. My gaze wanders down, taking in every inch of her in profile.
“That apron looks hot on you,” I say, taking her by the hips to bring her closer.
“Yeah?”
I bring my mouth down on hers for a hungry kiss before answering. “Yeah. I missed you bad, Quinn.”
“I missed you, too.” She brings a hand up to stroke my bristled cheek. “No hooker action over there, right?”
I’m taken aback for a second. “Are you asking me if I fucked any hookers?”
She looks just a bit sheepish. “Yes. I don’t know our rules. And you haven’t had sex in . . . well, at least for the seven weeks I’ve been here, right?”
I can’t be defensive. She’s looking for reassurance, and I want to give that to her. It just floors me that she thinks I could even consider another woman, given my feelings for her.
“I haven’t touched another woman since before I met you,” I say, meeting her eyes. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were a Boy Scout?”
“Briefly. I wanted to earn a merit badge by studying their corporate hierarchy and suggesting ways they could become more efficient, and the brass didn’t care for that idea.”
She laughs; that warm, rich sound is my new favorite. “And you were how old?”
“Twelve.”
With her thumb, she traces a line across my lips and over my jawline. “You were destined for greatness,” she says softly.
“I think so. You’re pretty great, and destiny drew us together.”
Her eyes soften. “That sounds awfully romantic coming from you.”
“What can I say? You make me feel romantic.”
“You make me feel happy,” she says with a smile. “So happy.”
“I want to take you to bed and make you feel all sorts of happy.” I kiss her neck, and she draws in a breath.
“Andrew, I’m ready,” she says in my ear.
“Me too. Let’s go.”
She pulls back and meets my gaze. “No, I mean . . . ready.”
My pulse kicks into overdrive. “Yeah?”
Her tongue darts out to moisten her pink lips. “Yeah.”
A marching band bursts into action in my head. This, I wasn’t expecting. I’ve been making a concerted effort not to pressure her into sex, and her blow jobs are epic enough to hold me over indefinitely.
“Yeah,” I repeat, but it comes out of my lips laced with the deep desire I’ve been building for her all this time.
I take hold of her hips and pick her up. She wraps her legs around my waist. I head in the direction of my bedroom, stopping every few feet to kiss her.
Finally. I haven’t just been waiting for this for the seven weeks I’ve known Quinn. It’s been a whole lot longer. I’ve never wanted a woman so much I’d wait patiently. Never known one who made me forget there were other women out there. And never have I thought a woman like Quinn, so utterly perfect, would willingly give herself to me this way.
Quinn
We’ve almost made it to the bedroom. My heart is pounding, and I’m hot all over. I’ve been thinking about this moment the whole time Andrew was gone. It wasn’t supposed to go down exactly like this. We were supposed to enjoy the delicious casserole I made, and then I was going to tell him over dessert that I was ready for the next step.
But this’ll work, too. In fact, this is working very well. My whole body is humming with pent-up arousal. I’m not nervous. Not with Andrew. I’m just ready.
He stops in the doorway to the bedroom, but this time instead of kissing me, he gives me a serious look.
“I need to know this isn’t about the money,” he says.
“The money?”
“Yeah. We don’t have to do this. I don’t . . . expect it in exchange for the money. All I want is you.”
His deep blue eyes are pleading with me to believe him. I wonder if anyone else has been allowed to see past his cool, detached, always in control façade. I like that side of him, but this side—the vulnerable, caring side, is the one I’m irrevocably attached to. Like the life experiences that brought me here, he’s etched on my heart now.
“It’s not about the money,” I say gently. “I don’t care about the money. All I want is you, too.”
“I’m over our arrangement. If you want ten times or a hundred times as much as we agreed on, I’d give it to you. I want to share everything I have with you.”
“I know. But everything I want from you, I already have. It’s here with me right now.”
His gaze wavers slightly with emotion, and then he leans closer and devours my mouth in a kiss so consuming I’m left breathless.
“I can stop at any time,” he says, walking me to the bed.
“Do we need, like . . . a safe word?”
He cocks an amused brow at me, his face shadowed in the room’s dim light. “A safe word?”
“It’s something I’ve read in books,” I say quickly.
“Oh. Well, I’m not into BDSM, so how about ‘stop’ or ‘no’? Those words’ll work fine.”
I nod. “And if I like it, I’ll say, ‘Oh, God . . . yes. More, Andrew, more.’ Just like that.”
He steps closer to me until I’m forced to fall back onto the bed, and then he climbs on with a knee between my thighs.
“Now you’re teasing me,” he says in a low tone.
“Maybe.”
With a groan, he dips his face to my neck, kissing me from there down to my chest. My mouth is open in silent bliss as the scruff on his face brushes over my sensitive skin, making me tingle.
I wrap my arms around his back, taking in the feel of his muscles and the faintly spicy scent of his soap. I missed everything about him when he was gone.
He peels my clothes off slowly, his expression one of reverence as his lips taste my newly exposed skin. He already knows every inch of me, but this time feels different.
I tug at his clothes, and he helps me take them off. Then we’re skin-to-skin, and I feel heat between my thighs just from this closeness. He’s still exploring me with his mouth and hands, and it’s almost more than I can take.
Just his warm breath on my nipple makes me shiver and moan with pleasure. When he closes his lips over it, I gasp and pull his hips against me with my legs around his waist.
“You’re eager,” he sa
ys, his eyes locked on mine while his lips hover over my wet, hardened nipple.
“Yes,” I say in a breathy tone. “Haven’t we waited long enough?”
His lips curve into a smile. “Not much longer, baby.”
Then he takes my hips and flips me over. He kisses his way from my shoulder blade down my back, and then farther.
“I love this ass,” he says, giving it a playful smack as he kisses the spot right beneath it.
I’m a panting mess, wound so tight I think I could explode at any second. Andrew discovers that the back of my knee is a sensitive spot, and he takes extra time kissing me there. By the time he flips me back over, I’m feeling desperate.
When he climbs on top of me again, I cling to his wide shoulders and say his name softly.
“I like that,” he says in my ear.
“Andrew,” I repeat. “I want you so much.”
He groans and kisses me beneath my ear. “I want you, too. I didn’t know what it was to want someone like this before you.”
He eases inside me just a bit, and I moan softly. When he goes a little farther, my next moan mingles with another groan from him.
“Damn, you feel amazing,” he says, his lips just an inch from mine.
I ease my hips up, and he slides in a little more, making him groan even louder. The pressure of him opening me hurts, but his sounds of pleasure are a worthy trade.
“Don’t stop,” I say.
He moves his hips up but then brings them back down, filling me again. I cry out, and he slides back out.
“Is that all of it?” I ask.
His laugh is a single note. “No. But I don’t have to give you all of it.”
“I want all of it.”
“Well, I want you to enjoy this. We’ll work up to it.”
I meet his gaze and open my legs as wide as they’ll go. “Really, Wentworth? You’re going to make me beg for it?”
His eyes narrow, and I realize what all the books I’ve read meant about a hooded gaze. And it’s hot. I put my feet on the backs of his thighs and urge him forward.
He pumps his hips into me, probably trying to put me in my place. But I love it, and I cry out with pleasure as he sinks a little farther into me than before.
With a low, satisfied groan, he does it again.
“You like that?” he asks.
“Yes. More.”
This time when he thrusts into me, I feel more pressure. I relax my body, and as he keeps going, it lessens.
“All . . .” he says, his voice strained. “You’re taking it all.”
“It’s good,” I say against his lips. He kisses me deeply, and every one of my nerve endings falls under his control. Every thrust, every groan, every touch seems to light me up.
I just want more and more. It feels better than I ever imagined. But after about five minutes, Andrew slows down.
“No,” I say softly.
“Just give me a second,” he says, sliding all the way in and then out again. He goes faster again then, and I moan his name as I feel myself climbing toward release.
After a few more minutes, he gets up on his knees, where he’s able to drive into me even deeper. I’m crying out incoherently because it feels so amazing. His grunts are a mixture of pleasure and pain. I can tell he’s holding himself back.
He puts his thumb on my clit and circles it. Just a few seconds and I’m falling over the edge of bliss, yelling out his name as he pounds into me. He groans low and long as he comes right behind me.
It’s almost too much, what I feel when he kisses me. It’s a flood of adoration and satisfied need.
“Good?” I ask as he pulls me against him.
He laughs softly. “Fucking amazing.”
“For me, too.”
He kisses me again and then gets up to go to the bathroom, returning with a washcloth for me. I clean myself up as he climbs back into bed beside me.
There are so many things I want to say, but I can’t find the right words. Andrew settles my back to his chest and pulls the covers over us. Soon I hear him snoring softly, and I feel myself dropping into a contented sleep, worries banished until morning.
Quinn
A bearded man in the food line at the shelter is looking at me with his brows drawn together.
“Hey, girl . . . you okay?” he asks.
“Hmm?” I shake myself out of the daze I was in and scoop some vegetables onto his plate. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was off in my own world.”
He shakes his head, probably thinking I’m a ditz. This week, I kind of have been. I think about Andrew all the time, usually with a big, dumb smile on my face. Adding sex to our relationship has brought us closer in a way I never knew possible.
When he eases away from me every morning to get up and work out, I want to pull him back into bed. One morning, he did get back in bed with me after his shower, his body warm and his muscles firm. I wove my fingers into his wet hair as we had slow, incredibly good sex.
“You need more?” another volunteer, Jasmine, asks me. I look down at my big stainless pan and see I’m almost out of vegetables.
“Yes.”
She calls out to another volunteer and asks me to serve the rolls and butter while she runs to the bathroom. I take over, keeping an eye out for anyone who comes in without a coat, hat, or decent shoes. Andrew’s always encouraging me to go shopping, and I’ve found I actually do enjoy it when I’m shopping for others.
We finish and I take a mother’s energetic toddler off her hands for an hour so she can fill out job applications. I take the boy to the shelter’s playroom, where we chase each other and build block towers.
When my shift at the shelter is over, Roy picks Micah and me up and drives me to the library. I volunteer at the shelter every weekday so I never have time to walk to the library, but some weekend I’m going to walk there again, just so I don’t let the attack keep hold of me. I’ll have to slip past my security guard shadow, Micah, but I can handle that.
Anna gives me a letter from Bethy, and I rush to the library bathroom to read it while Roy waits in the car. Micah is probably watching me right now, but he can’t come into the bathroom.
I open it inside a stall, missing my sister as soon as I see her neat, cursive handwriting.
Dear Quinn,
I got the Christmas presents and put them under the tinsel tree Maria helped me make. It’s a tiny, sad-looking tree, but I like it. Thank you for whatever is inside the boxes.
It makes me so happy that you’re doing well. I daydream about you and Andrew. He looks like Prince Charming in my dreams. Okay, there’s also some Channing Tatum in there.
I’m doing great with Spanish. I can order all our food at the market and pay for it now. Maria helps me with the other subjects, too, but it seems like we stay pretty busy taking care of her two-year-old and doing the cooking, cleaning, and laundry for me and Bean. I like having stuff to do, though. Her little girl is sweet, and I love playing with her.
Bean seems different lately. He’s kind of mad sometimes, but he tries not to show it. He’s just quiet a lot. He goes to a bar and drinks after work most nights. I wasn’t sure if I should tell you because I don’t want you to worry about me. I promise I’m fine.
I miss you so much. If you and Prince Charming decide to take a vacation, please come to Mexico so I can see you. I’m counting the days until this six months is over.
Love,
Bethy
Tears burn my eyes as I read the letter a second time. Damn it. I’m wondering once again if I’ve done right by my sister. We’re not on the edge of survival anymore. Andrew told me I can have more money if I need it. So if she needs me and money isn’t an issue, why am I still here?
For Andrew. I’m in New York falling in love with a man while Bethy is lonely in a strange country with Bean, who’s started drinking. I feel like an asshole.
I put the letter in my purse and return to the car. Roy takes me to the salon I have an appointment at to get my hair and ma
keup done for the fundraiser Andrew and I are attending tonight.
I’m thinking about Bethy as my hair is smoothed and swept into a glamorous, pinned-up style. As my dark, smoky eye makeup is applied, I’m picturing her cooking and cleaning for a man who comes home drunk. It’s all I can do not to cry.
When I get back to the warehouse and step into the fitted cream gown I’m wearing tonight, I look at my reflection in the mirror and realize Bethy’s analogy was right on. I’m living like Cinderella at the ball right now. But I could and should be with her.
The hair and makeup took a long time, and I’m running late. I see Andrew glancing at his wristwatch when I walk out of the bedroom.
“Sorry,” I say as I cross the living room “We can get going now.”
His expression changes as he looks me over. The warmth and happiness I see there make me feel amazing and guilty at the same time.
“You look incredible,” he says.
“Thank you.”
He looks pretty good himself in his tux, which fits perfectly across his broad chest and shoulders. His hair is starting to curl slightly at the ends, which makes him look younger than twenty-eight.
Once he’s helped me into my coat, he puts his on and we take the elevator to the garage, where Roy is waiting. Andrew holds my hand as we ride in silence.
“You have a good day?” he asks after a few minutes.
“Yes, you?”
“Not bad.”
I feel him looking at my face in the dim light of the car. “Everything okay?”
I nod, because it feels like less of a lie than words would. Andrew doesn’t prod, and I’m lost in my own thoughts the rest of the ride to the posh hotel. When we arrive, Andrew exits the car at the curb, and I slide out after him. He takes my hand again.
Turning my face to his shoulder, I whisper, “Everything’s not okay.”
“I can tell.” He tips my chin up with his thumb. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”
“Bethy.”
He furrows his brow and kisses my forehead. We start the walk inside, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist, when I look over at the flashing cameras. My stomach churns nervously.
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