She knew what she was really doing—she was looking for Quinn. Her aching restlessness had everything to do with how she felt when she was around him. Just watching him have lunch with Joyce and his friends the other day had affected her. He confused her and excited her and challenged her. Basically, he was catnip and she just wanted to purr and rub all over him.
“That’s a really gross analogy,” she muttered as she reached the stairwell. She was out of excuses and out of ideas. Short of simply knocking on his bungalow door and taking off her clothes—which seemed rude without an invitation—there was nothing else she could do. She might as well head to her room and have an early night.
She took the stairs two at a time and was out of breath when she reached the fourth floor. She walked into her room and saw a gift bag sitting on her bed. A gift bag that hadn’t been there two hours ago when she’d gone looking for Quinn.
She looked inside. There was a bottle of expensive tequila, a room key and a card that said only: Join me.
Her stomach flopped over at least three times and her mouth went dry. While she knew who the gift and invitation were from, she didn’t know who had put them in her room...or when.
She turned in a slow circle, as if looking for a clue, then realized she was wasting time. Okay, what to do? Should she change her clothes? Put on perfume? Grab a quick shower? Indecision held her in its grip for a second, then she glanced down at the jeans and T-shirt she had on. They were fine, she decided. She rolled her eyes at the thought of perfume—mostly because she knew she didn’t own any—then grabbed the gift bag and headed back for the stairs.
She knocked rather than use the room key. That seemed just too...forward, maybe. He opened the door and smiled when he saw her.
“I was hoping you’d say yes.”
“You’re not wordy when you leave notes.”
“I get my point across.”
She supposed that was true.
She followed him into the bungalow. He took the tequila from her and crossed to the wet bar. He already had limes on a small cutting board and what looked like a lime-based mixture in a measuring cup. Now he added ice to a shaker, then poured in tequila and the juice.
As he worked, she prowled the edges of the small living room. He’d added a few personal effects—a book, a cell phone, a notepad with writing scrawled across it.
He shook the drinks, then poured. She watched him. Like her, he was in jeans. But instead of a T-shirt, he had on a white men’s shirt, untucked and with the sleeves rolled up. His feet were bare. She wasn’t sure why that last fact was sexy, but it was. Really sexy.
He handed her a drink, then motioned to the sofa. She took a seat and saw he had set a plate of appetizers on the coffee table.
“Are you seducing me?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He sat in one of the chairs perpendicular to the sofa and toasted her with his glass. “Do you want to be seduced?”
“I believe part of the process is not to be asked that question.”
“I hadn’t heard that.”
She took a sip of her drink. “Of course it is. Otherwise, it’s not a seduction. It’s a meeting. Seduction is about being swayed.”
His dark blue gaze was unreadable as he smiled at her. “You’re so determined in everything else. You want to do things your way.”
“You’re annoying. Has anyone ever mentioned that?”
He chuckled. “Once or twice.” He nodded at the plate of food. “Help yourself. You’ll want to keep up your strength.”
Her toes curled ever so slightly. She reached for a crab puff. “Have you and your posse found a building yet?”
“My posse?”
“What do you call them? Your bros? The gang?”
“How about my team?”
“Posse is better, but sure, we can go with team.”
“We have a couple of prospects. Zealand is concerned with sound. Wayne worries about money.”
“What do you worry about?” she asked.
“As little as possible.” He leaned back in the chair. “I saw you in the restaurant the other day.”
“I know. You winked at me.”
“You fill in a lot.”
“I go where I’m needed. They never let me cook, though. Probably for the best.”
“My grandmother says you won’t take a different job until you have your degree.”
The delightful sense of anticipation faded just a little. “You were talking about me?”
“You’re an intriguing subject.”
“Not if your grandmother is part of the conversation.” She waited, but he didn’t say anything. She shifted slightly. “I just want to have my degree in hand.”
“Like a talisman?”
“More like a badge of honor. It will be proof of all that I’ve accomplished.”
“You don’t think you’re already proof? Just in how you live your life?”
Her mood brightened. “That sounds kind of cool.”
“You’re kind of cool. I’m curious why you need the degree before making a change.” He held up one hand. “I get the thing with your family. You’re concerned they won’t believe you’re different until they have tangible evidence. They will, of course, but you’ll feel better to have something concrete. But Joyce has known all along. Why not start moving up the ranks?”
“I don’t know. I just need to have my degree first.” She thought about what he’d asked her before. If she was punishing her family or punishing herself. “This isn’t very good foreplay.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be foreplay.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “I promise, you’ll know when I make my move.”
“And you have condoms?”
“Yes. In case you’re curious, the sheets are clean and I’ve already put out the do-not-disturb sign. Any other questions?”
She was trying to be sophisticated and brave, but it was hard. She forced herself to take what she hoped was a nonchalant drink, then smiled.
“I’m good.”
“Yes, you are. Tell me about your first time.”
She blinked at the unexpected question. “You mean sex?”
He nodded. “I don’t need details. Just who and when.”
She took another sip. “I was eighteen and I’d moved out of my mom’s house. I had the job at Happy Burger.”
“A destiny you ignored.”
“I know. I hope I don’t regret it.” She smiled. “I don’t think I will. Anyway, his name was Cameron, he rode a motorcycle and he told me I was pretty.” Her smile faded. “I was more interested in someone wanting me than caring about whether or not I wanted him.”
“And you wanted to be like everyone else.”
She stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“You were taller than all your classmates, two years older. You didn’t fit in. You couldn’t fix that, but you could stop being a virgin. At least there you could be just like everyone else.”
She had a bad feeling she was still staring, but she couldn’t stop. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“Then I’ll tell you that I think you’re pretty amazing. Strong and determined. Sexy as hell, but you already knew that.”
Knew that she was sexy as hell? Um, no. She hadn’t received that particular memo. Was there a way to get him to say it again? Or embroider it on a pillow?
Quinn stood, undid a couple of buttons on his shirt, then pulled it over his head. He let it fall to the ground before drawing her to her feet.
“I’m making my move,” he murmured right before he kissed her.
She’d felt his mouth on hers before, the arousing combination of strength and confidence with just an edge of determination was so arousing. He kissed her purposefully, taking rather than
offering, but not in a scary way.
He cupped her face in his large hands. She pressed her palms to his bare chest and felt the warmth of his skin and the muscles beneath. They met as equals—at least physically. She had a feeling that on the experience front, he was miles ahead.
He deepened the kiss and she welcomed the heat of his tongue against hers. She moved her hands to his shoulders and leaned into him, letting herself get lost in his deep kisses.
Need washed over her. Hunger and a desire to be closer. To know all of him. She wanted him touching her everywhere and she wanted to explore all his secrets. Patience, she told herself. The joining would be better for the waiting.
His hands slid along her upper arms, then down to her wrists and lower to her hips. His fingers toyed with the hem of her T-shirt. He tugged it up and over her head, then tossed it away.
He leaned in to kiss her again, but this time he pressed his mouth to her cheek, then her jaw. He moved slowly, drawing his lips across her skin, nibbling as he went. When he nipped right behind her ear, she felt her skin erupt in goose bumps. Then he straightened and took her hand in his.
He tugged slightly, urging her across the living room. They went into the bedroom. No lamps burned, but light filtered in from the living room. She saw the big bed and then Quinn turned her so she looked into his eyes.
“Second thoughts?” he asked.
“What? No. I want this.” You, she thought. She should have said “I want you,” but she wasn’t quite there yet. That would require just a little more courage than she had at the moment.
“Good.”
He unfastened his jeans and pushed them to the floor. He wasn’t wearing any underwear and he was already aroused. She allowed herself a moment of admiration at the size of him, then watched as he crossed to the nightstand and clicked on a light.
“Let’s see those wings.”
She laughed and turned her back to him. “Don’t judge.”
“I won’t.” He moved behind her and lightly traced the tattoo across her back. “It’s beautiful. Do you feel free?”
“Sometimes.”
He unfastened her bra. She let it slide off her arms. He reached around and undid her jeans, then pushed them past her hips along with her bikini panties. She stepped out of her clothes and started to turn to face him. He put a hand on her hip and held her in place.
“Not yet,” he breathed, his mouth inches from her shoulder.
So she stood naked in the center of his bedroom. He was right behind her—she could sense his nearness. But he didn’t touch her anywhere other than the hand on her hip. Not at first. Then he placed his fingertips on her shoulder blades and drew them down. Just the lightest of touches. The stroke made her shiver and her nipples tighten. He traced the words on the small of her back—words he’d written.
He put his hands on her hips and eased her around to face him. His eyes locked with hers and he cupped her small breasts in his hands. He touched them gently, smoothing the pads of his fingers over her nipples. Pleasure shot through her, taking a direct path to her groin. Excitement grew as he bent down and took one of her nipples in his mouth.
He sucked deeply, circling the tight tip with his tongue. Her breath caught and she had to hang on to him to steady herself. He repeated his actions on her other breast. Need hummed, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She wanted what he offered. She wanted all of him.
He urged her to step back until she bumped into the bed. “Sit down,” he told her.
She sat. He dropped to his knees in front of her. When he guided her to lie back, she did. He parted her legs before dipping his head to press his mouth against the most intimate part of her.
At the first stroke of his tongue, she exhaled slowly. With the second, she let her eyes sink closed as she gave herself over to the ministrations of a partner who knew exactly what to do.
He used his tongue to explore her from every angle. Top to bottom. Side to side. He circled her clit, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Just when the movements reached that perfect this is the road to me coming rhythm, he switched things up and pressed the flat of his tongue against her swollen center. She sank back a few levels and caught her breath.
He slipped a finger inside her and pushed in and up, finding what she would swear was the back of her clit. At the same time, he sucked on it, pulling it in and moving his finger and circling and—
She came without warning. One second there was only liquid pleasure, and the next she was shaking and panting through her release. She called out some weird nonword and tried to breathe as every cell in her body sang and her muscles convulsed and she lost complete control.
It took nearly a minute for her to finish, and even then she wasn’t totally sure what had happened. She opened her eyes to find Quinn watching her—his hooded blue eyes, as always, unreadable.
“Just once I’d like to know what you’re thinking,” she complained.
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
She laughed.
He stood and pulled her into a sitting position and then onto her feet. Together they drew back the covers. He took a package of condoms out of the nightstand. She got in the bed on one side and he got in on the other, then he pulled her close.
He lay on his side, next to her, supporting his head with one hand and resting the other on her belly.
“Can you come with me inside?” he asked.
She felt herself blush as she looked at everything but him.
“Excuse me?”
“Some women find it easy, some don’t. Can you? Do you want to learn how? Where are you in this?” As he spoke, he shifted his hand between her legs and began to rub her very swollen center.
“Um, I have a couple of times, but not very often,” she admitted.
“What do they do wrong? Don’t do it right? Don’t last long enough? You’re not aroused enough? You can’t stop thinking?”
She swallowed hard, then looked into his eyes. For once, she was pretty sure she could guess what he was thinking. His expression was both kind and hungry. He was curious and interested in her response.
At the same time, he continued to rub her. Around and around and around, moving at the same speed, the same pressure, as if they weren’t having a conversation at all.
“Do we have to talk about it?” she asked with a whimper. “Can’t we just do it?”
“I want to know what makes it good for you.”
“You already do. That bit before. That was good. Really good.” She reached for him and drew him close. “Quinn, please.”
He smiled. “I like when you say my name. Especially when you’re coming.”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, yeah, you did.”
She wanted to argue, but what he was doing felt too good. She was getting closer and closer. She could feel it. The rising tension, the promise that was just out of reach. Just a couple more seconds and—
“Give me your hand,” he said.
She opened her eyes. “W-what?”
“Your hand.” He took his away, then replaced it with her own. “Keep going. We don’t want to lose ground.”
“I... You...” Was he serious? She barely did that when she was by herself, let alone in front of another person.
He nudged her hand. “Keep going. I’m only going to need a second.”
Before she could form enough words to actually protest, he’d rolled away and was reaching for a condom. She stayed where she was—frozen. But then she kind of circled a little, pressing her fingers down on her clit.
She was so swollen, she thought hazily. So ready for another orgasm. Her fingers stroked again and again, then found the rhythm that would get her over the edge.
“Just like that, baby.”
Her eyes popped open. Quinn wa
s watching her. His expression was predatory.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered.
“You already are.”
He shifted until he was between her thighs, then eased into her. As he filled her completely, she told herself to stop touching herself. But she couldn’t. Everything felt too good.
“What are you doing to me?” she asked, still rubbing herself.
His dark blue gaze locked with hers. “I want what I want.”
“Which is?”
He pushed in deeper. She gasped and felt herself slipping out of control. She couldn’t help moving more quickly—pressing harder.
“That,” he said, his voice hoarse.
He moved in and out. Faster and faster until she had no choice but to surrender. She cried out as she came, then wrapped her legs around his hips to pull him in deeper. She held on until he, too, gasped his release and was still.
She wasn’t sure what to say afterward, or even how to act. Quinn solved the problem by pulling her close and kissing her.
“Want to stay the night?” he asked.
An unexpected question. “Yes.”
“Good.”
It was good, she thought as she snuggled next to him. Unexpected, but very, very good.
* * *
The house for sale was a small three-bedroom ranch. It had been built in the 1950s and had only minimal updates. According to the brochure, there was a peekaboo ocean view from one corner of the backyard, and the local elementary school was only three blocks away. Perfect for a growing family.
Sienna walked through the light, bright living room and into the kitchen. The countertops had been updated, but the painted cabinets looked original. They would be made of real wood, she thought. When stripped down and stained, they could be gorgeous. The stove was newish, maybe eight or ten years old. She wondered if the new owners would consider buying one of those vintage stoves. That would look great in this house.
She saw Jimmy talking to a young couple in the dining room. Their conversation seemed intense, so she didn’t interrupt. When Jimmy caught sight of her, he winked.
She explored the bedrooms and the single bathroom. It retained its 1950s flare with medium blue-and-turquoise tiles. Talk about retro. Although she had to admit she wasn’t sure if she would want to change the look. It was oddly stylish. But the house did need a second bathroom.
Daughters of the Bride Page 17
