“Do we have to keep talking about this right now?" I kissed his neck and then his mouth, dipping my tongue inside. He ran his fingertips over my back.
"Ahh. No, I guess not. What do you want to talk about?" he said, his breath getting heavier as I kissed and nibbled his neck.
"I don't really feel like talking anymore."
When I woke again, morning was in full swing, the sun shining brightly outside and birds chirping busily in the trees.
Quinn was still fast asleep, one arm tossed over his head and a furrow knitting his brow. His lips twitched and I had to hold myself back from kissing them. I am falling way too fast. I slipped out of bed, put on my undies and bra and Jordie's t-shirt, used the bathroom, then tiptoed into the kitchen in search of coffee.
I found a note from Jordie with instructions on where everything was and how to use the coffee maker.
As I stood and watched the coffee drip, reality began to set in. The night and early morning had been incredible, like a fevered dream, but it was over now, and I had no idea what lay ahead. Would Quinn regret what he had said? Would he be nice but withdrawn now that we had slept together? Would he want to date me? Even if he did, how could we manage it?
There was no risk for Quinn. He could say goodbye to me today and never look back. He could have anyone he wanted, anywhere in the world. Maybe he would come back to the inn, be polite to me and leave me to try and hide my feelings until he left and forgot all about me.
I poured myself a cup, added a little milk and tried to calm myself down. Last night was special. We connected, I knew we did. But then again, he's an actor. Maybe this is what he does with women. Maybe what he told me was the speech he gives everyone. Maybe…
Just then I felt warm, bare arms encircle my waist, followed by his big, hard body leaning up against me, warming my chilled back. I could feel that he was wearing his jeans but no shirt.
God help me.
"Got any of that for me?" he murmured, kissing my cheek from behind.
"Sure, there's a whole pot," I said, as lightheartedly as I could, pressing my face back into his.
I felt him smile. "I didn't mean the coffee," he said, "but it actually does smell fantastic." He gave me a squeeze before releasing me so he could grab a mug. As he filled his cup, he caught me staring at his naked chest and torso, and he grinned mischievously. "How are you this morning, Em?"
"I'm good," I said quietly, giving him a slight smile, keeping my tone light. But inside I was suddenly shy, overwhelmed, claustrophobic with the need to process all that had happened in the last 24 hours.
Plus, I was terrified of wearing out my welcome.
"You know, I should be heading back," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Now?” Quinn’s eyes widened. “I thought we could, you know, hang out for a while.”
Go Emmy. Go now, before he changes his mind.
“Yeah, I should go. I have a million things to do.”
“Can I come with you? I'd love to see your place. Maybe we could go for a run?"
I hesitated, and he looked at me strangely, furrowing. Then he brightened a little and gave me a sly smile. "I get it. There's another guy. You're married, with three kids."
"What? No, of course not." I knew he was kidding but my reply sounded like I didn't get it.
Pull yourself together!
"I'm sorry. I just- have so much to do, and we can't show up at the Beach House at the same time," I sighed. This was getting awkward. I had to get out of there.
"Um, OK,” he shrugged. “But can I at least hold you for a minute before you go?"
He took my mug and put it and his on the counter and wrapped his arms around me. It felt so good to be in his arms, so comfortable and right, and exciting, too; I wanted him again. But then part of me felt like this was the last time he would hold me like this. Don't cry don't cry don't cry.
He released me, took my face in his hands and gave me a soft, lingering kiss. "I'll miss you today. And it's going to be hard to see you at the inn and not kiss you and touch you."
"I know. For me, too."
"You really have to go?"
"Yeah, I should go."
"OK, I'll see you later, then. Let me walk you to your car.”
A couple of hours later I was home, making a broccoli rice casserole to drop off at my mother's. I tried to always make sure she had something filling and hearty in her fridge, with vegetables in it, otherwise I worried that she subsisted on grilled cheese and scrambled eggs.
It was still only about 9:30 in the morning, but it already felt like it had been a long day.
As I eased the casserole dish into the oven, Erica called to find out how the night had gone.
"You were supposed to text me last night!" she scolded. "What happened? Don't keep me in suspense!"
I gave her the play-by-play, right up until that moment. "So, what do you think?"
She hesitated for a moment, then sighed.
"You know I love you, Em, but you're an idiot when it comes to guys."
"Really?!" I was incredulous. "But he-"
"He asked to spend the day with you. Multiple times. Why would you assume he didn't mean it?"
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “What about the awkwardness?”
"It sounds to me like you caused the awkwardness,” she said gently. “Everything was fine, but you got up into your own head. No offense, but that's one of those things women do that make guys think we're nuts."
"Ugh, so now what do I do?" I paced around, trying to work out the excess energy. Just then the buzzer went off, indicating there was someone trying to get into the building. Probably a delivery for one of my neighbors. "Hang on a sec, someone's buzzing. But don't go anywhere. I need you!"
"Staying right here," she said, laughing softly.
"Yes?" I asked as I depressed the button.
"Delivery. Federal Express," came a voice in an Indian accent. Weird. Who would send me a FedEx package? But I buzzed him in.
"Ugh, I'm sorry, E. It's FedEx. Can I call you right back?"
"Of course. I'll be here."
I opened the door and there was Quinn, in a FedEx baseball cap, looking sheepish.
"Em, I swear I'm not stalking you. I just-"
I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. "I'm so glad you're here," I said, choking back tears. "Get in here."
We stepped inside, still holding each other, and he took off the hat. He looked happy but confused. "Well, hi there," he said, squeezing me. "I thought you might be mad that I just showed up unannounced. Are you OK?"
I gave him the one-sec gesture, rushed off the phone with Erica, promising to call her back this time, then ran back to Quinn and hugged him again.
"I'm sorry, Quinn. I guess I kind of freaked out this morning. I was afraid you didn't really want to be with me, that you were just being polite, and I was imagining how awkward things would be at the Beach House, and that you would bring other women there or just disappear altogether and I would just be this blip." I released him from the hug and covered my face with my hands. "Or something. I'm sorry. It was stupid."
He moved my hands away and took my face in his hands. "Em, you crazy girl. You don't even know how happy I am to hear you say all that, incoherent as it was," he smiled and kissed me softly. "The way you bolted this morning, I thought I had done something wrong or said something wrong, maybe I scared you off. Or after spending the night with me you figured I wasn't worth the trouble."
I gave him an are-you-crazy look, hands on my hips. "Right, and I’m the crazy one. So if you thought that, then what are you doing here, pretending to be the FedEx guy?"
He grinned. "I was sulking at the Beach House and I ran into Shari. She asked me what was wrong and I-"
"Oh my God, you didn't tell her about last night, did you?"
"No silly," he tucked my hair behind my ear. "You look so cute with your hair down, you know that? I meant to tell you last night when-"
My face heated
. "Thanks. But Quinn, focus! What did you tell Shari? I love her, but she has the biggest mouth-"
"I told her that last night was one of the best nights of my life and I had to find you right away. I told her I couldn't wait to get you naked again, and if she didn't give me your address immediately, I was going to handcuff myself to the stove in protest."
I stared up at him, and this time I didn't even try to stop my eyes from filling up with tears.
"No, don't cry," Quinn whispered, laughing softly and brushing his fingers down my cheek. "I'm just kidding. I told her we had plans so you could help me with the chef project, and I was upset because I accidentally deleted the text with your address."
I smiled. "I know you were kidding, dumb ass. I'm just so... relieved."
He hugged me. "Does that mean you finally trust me? You don't think I'm a fickle, womanizing actor anymore?"
"I don't think that. And I couldn't have been with you last night if I didn't trust you."
As I said it, I knew it was true. I knew who he was. I just had to let go and let myself trust that. I squeezed him.
"Do you still trust me right now?" His voice grew husky as his hands began to wander over me.
"Oh yeah, I really trust you right now."
"Prove it."
The casserole got a little crisper than I intended, but Quinn had distracted me. Twice. He reached for me a third time when I got back to my room after rescuing the casserole, but I had to stop him.
"Quinn!" I laughed. "Is this some kind of Hollywood sex addiction thing? Am I going to end up on Oprah in tears, sobbing over what I went through?"
"Oh that's funny, Em," he grabbed me and pulled me down onto the bed, back into his warm embrace. "I can't help it. I just can't get enough of you."
He kissed me softly, and amazingly I wanted him again, too. But I really did have to get to work.
"Mmmm. I would love to continue this, but I have to get ready to go," I whispered, running my fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes at my touch.
"OK, OK, I know. I'll go so you can get ready and we have time between our arrivals at the Beach House."
We kissed again, and I didn't even try to pretend to look away as he jumped naked out of my bed and strode over to where he had thrown his clothes in a frenzy earlier. I shivered, remembering how urgent and passionate he had been, rushing to get us both out of our clothes and into bed.
Once there, he had taken his time at first, kissing me so slowly and softly, teasing my tongue with his. As much as I tried to grab him and tease him back he resisted, running his fingers feather-soft against my cheeks and down my neck, never going lower than my collarbone.
When I groaned with longing for more, he flipped me over and brushed my hair aside, kissing the back of my neck and fluttering his lips and tongue slowly down my back. He reached down and massaged my legs, gently spreading them apart.
He rubbed one leg and then the other, focusing on the very tops of my inner thighs but never quite touching in between. My whole body was screaming for him, and my breath started coming in shorter and shorter. Every touch of his fingers felt like fire on my skin.
“Please, Quinn…”
“Shhhh.”
Then he moved his hands to my butt and started kneading my cheeks. First one, then the other. Every push and squeeze of his fingers relaxed my muscles but also made me tense with anticipation and desire. Suddenly he spread me apart and slowly, gently licked me right up the middle.
I gasped; the sensation was so intense, so shocking. He kept licking me, teasing me with soft strokes of his tongue. He groaned as I started writhing, clawing the pillow. No matter how much I writhed, he followed me with his mouth, kneading my flesh with his strong hands. The feeling of his tongue on such a sensitive place, and the taboo of what he was doing, pushed me to the limit.
I was as vulnerable as I had ever been, spread open for him, but that only heightened everything. I was right on the edge, afraid and excited, so hot for him.
After a few minutes he finally let up, kissing me right at the top of the seam before letting me go.
He grabbed my hips and pulled them up, then entered me in one deep stroke. Groaning, he began to thrust, and feeling how hard he was, I knew what he had done to me had gotten him as worked up as I was.
"God, Quinn," I cried, pushing back to meet his hard thrusts. "Ah. Harder. Yeah."
"Fuck! Em. It’s OK? I’m not hurting you?”
“Uhh. No. Harder. Please. Harder.”
That set him off and he moved faster, drilling me, making me cry out. I was too turned on, too much in the moment to hold back, and with every sound I let out and every push backwards of my hips to meet his thrusts he got more intense.
“Em! Ahh. I have to slow down,” he gasped. “I need- I’m not wearing a condom.”
He started to pull out of me, but I grabbed one of his hands.
“It’s OK. I’m- it’s taken care of.”
I looked up at him and saw him smile, eyes hooded. He slowed his pace, still thrusting hard but taking his time in between, running his hands up to my waist and back down over my thighs. I lowered my head and torso so I could reach back and touch his balls, cupping them, rolling them gently. He let out a growl and ran his hands back down to knead my hips. His hard thrusts began to gradually get faster again. I let go of him and pulled back up to my hands and knees, fisting the sheets.
Turning my head, I glanced again at his beautiful face, covered in sweat and straining with heat, but when he caught my eye, I saw the tenderness and passion there, too.
He bent over me, pressing his chest against my back, kissing the nape of my neck, gently squeezing my breasts. I arched into his touch, rolling my hips to feel him at a different angle inside me.
Quinn felt it, too--suddenly I felt him get harder and his kisstuned into a bite. He straightened and began to thrust faster, rhythmically, pulling my hips back roughly to meet his. Once, twice, and on the third time I climaxed hard, trembling, calling out his name. But Quinn kept going. He licked his fingers and reached around to massage me in gentle circles as he continued to thrust. He expertly combined hard thrusts with the soft rubbing on my sensitive flesh and soon I came again, just as intensely but slower, letting out a soft moan. Only when the tremors began to slow did Quinn let himself go, shuddering all over.
"Em, hello? Where did you go?" Quinn, freshly showered and fully dressed, was sitting on the bed, brushing my hair back off my forehead and bringing me back to the moment.
I smiled at him, and he laughed. "All right, naughty girl, I can see from that look on your face what you were thinking about," he said, kissing me lightly. "Now stop it and get out of this bed before you get me all worked up again."
I smiled wider. "Just don't pretend to be the FedEx guy again. You saw what that did to me."
I got up and slipped into my bathrobe.
Quinn laughed. "Kind of like what this hot little number is doing for me," he said, fingering the material of my tattered terrycloth robe. It was purple, with yellow smiley faces all over it, an ancient Christmas gift from my mother. I stood in front of him and he held me by the waist, staring up at me. He looked so open and vulnerable in that moment, exactly as I felt.
"OK, I'm really going now," he said softly, standing up and gathering me into a hug. "I'll see you at the Beach House in a little while. It's going to take all of my acting chops to pretend I don't want to grab you every 5 minutes."
"I know, me too. And I don't even have any acting chops."
"Some would say I don't either," he smiled ruefully, and I shoved his chest lightly.
"That's enough of that, you," I said. "You do, and soon the whole world will know."
He smiled as he pulled away and started toward the door. "From your beautiful mouth. Bye."
It wasn't easy, but Quinn and I managed to keep it cool at the Beach House. We avoided being alone together and when others were around, we made sure we weren't next to each other. No lingering looks,
no private jokes. One morning I found a note under the coffee maker: "I miss holding you." "I need to worship your sexy 'compact' body," read another, left in the container of flour I kept in the freezer.
We hadn't been together since he showed up at my apartment three days earlier and I felt as desperate for some alone time as he did. I was setting up afternoon tea one day when he came strolling into the living room.
"Hi," I said shyly.
"Hi yourself, beautiful," he whispered, moving dangerously close to me and running his fingers down my arm. I shivered, tingling all over from just that simple touch, my face flushing. I had to step back, but couldn't. "I miss you. When can we-"
"Oh, sorry!" Shari yelled as she clomped in and found us. Quinn and I jumped apart. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
She stopped, glanced at both of us, then smirked.
"No, you didn't interrupt!" I practically shouted, my voice shrill. "We were just, uh-"
"Talking about my chef project," Quinn finished. I exhaled and then realized I had been holding my breath.
"Right, your project. Sure! How's it going?" Shari asked, shooting Quinn a sidelong glance as she straightened up the room.
"I have a ton of work to do. See you guys later!" I trilled, sounding like I was on the brink of hysteria.
"Bye," Quinn called, glancing up with a casual wave. "So Shari, what's new with you? How's the family?"
Safely back in the kitchen, I went to the sink and splashed my face with cold water.
"Sammater, you sick or somethin," Elaine slurred, suddenly next to me and reeking of scotch. "You know the bess thing is a lil hair of the dog."
She started cackling loudly. I had never seen her so far gone in the middle if the day.
"Elaine, are you OK? Is everything all right?"
"Peachy keen, jelly bean," she laughed again, and as she went to grab my shoulder she nearly fell face down.
"Hey Elaine, I have a great idea. Why don't you go downstairs and hop into bed, and I'll bring you some tea and cookies?"
The Beach House Page 14
