by Cathryn Fox
“It’s okay, little one,” I whisper quietly, not wanting to wake Quinn, but wanting to wake her just the same because I am so out of my element here. “Are you hungry, need a diaper change?”
“She probably needs both,” a soft voice says from behind me.
I turn to see Quinn leaning against the doorjamb. “Hey, sorry we woke you.”
“It’s okay.” Light from the hall filters in and Quinn narrows her eyes as she looks at me. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Not much.”
She crosses the room and holds her arms out. “Why don’t you give her to me and go back to bed. I’ll take care of her tonight.”
“No, you go back to bed, I got this.” Okay, that’s not entirely true. I don’t got this, and I don’t want Quinn to go back to bed. I really need her.
She shakes her head, not believing me for a second. Thank God. “You want to change her, or get the bottle?”
I quickly hand her over, and Quinn chuckles. “That’s what I thought.”
I head for the door as she walks to the changing table, the room a bit tight with the double bed still in it. I’m going to have to get rid of it and make the space more suitable.
“The table looks nice,” she says, and then she stifles a yawn.
“Thanks.” I hurry down the stairs and prepare Daisy’s bottle, checking the temperature on my arm like I’m a pro. I’m not. I’m so not equipped to take care of a child, and scared fucking shitless because I have no choice now.
Daisy is still bawling, and Quinn is humming to her as she finishes changing the diaper and dressing her. I wait at the doorway for a second, the sight totally catching me off guard. I never thought about having kids before, or a wife. I guess it was always just off in the distance, something to think about later, but the vision is fucking me over a little, tugging at something deep inside—scaring me even more.
“Hey,” I say quietly as I step up to Quinn. Her body tightens as I reach around her, my chest against her back, and I put the bottle into Daisy’s mouth and hold it there. Daisy gulps fast.
“She eats like you do,” Quinn says quietly, as she rubs her hands over the child’s legs.
I laugh. “All she does is eat…and cry.”
“It will get better,” she assures me. “Soon, she’ll start sleeping through the night, and just wait until she develops a personality.”
Quinn steps away from me, and I don’t want to think too hard on how much I miss her closeness. I pick Daisy up and sit on the edge of the bed to feed her. Quinn lowers herself down next to me.
“I think she’s getting used to you already.”
I nod, not quite sure I believe that. She’s just happy to be getting her bottle. “Quinn?”
“Yeah.”
“I…I really appreciate you being here. For Daisy’s sake.”
A moment of silence and then, “My pleasure.”
Daisy drinks and drinks and drinks, and when half the bottle is gone, I put her over my shoulder and tap her back to burp her.
She burps all right—only problem is, she loses half her milk down my back.
“Jesus,” I whisper, as my entire body tightens. “She just threw up on my back.” My hand stills midair. “Wait, am I burping her too hard?” I try to keep the worry from my voice. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“No.” Quinn grabs some baby wipes from the plastic container and runs them over my back. “Sometimes babies just have wet burbs. It’s normal.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Give her the rest of her milk, and I’ll get a soapy cloth to clean you.”
I readjust her in my arms and put the bottle in her mouth, but she doesn’t want any more. She turns her head, pushes it away, and her fists are flying.
“Quinn, hurry,” I say, and she comes rushing back in. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know.” She runs the wet cloth over my back, and her hands graze my skin.
“Thanks.” I stand and gently bounce the baby in my arms.
“I wonder if she’s teething, or maybe she’s colicky,” Quinn says.
“Maybe she misses her mom,” I say.
“Yeah, maybe.”
I walk her, and she eventually settles in my arms.
“Let’s put her back in her crib,” Quinn says, and the second I lay her down, she starts crying again. I pick her up quickly and hold her to my bare chest. It seems to settle her.
“Do you have a rocking chair?” Quinn asked.
“No, but I’ll get one tomorrow if you think I need one.”
“I think little Daisy is confused and needs the contact right now. But you can’t stay up and hold her all night.” She peels the comforter from the bed. “Why don’t you try to lay down with her here, keep her close to your body.”
I do as she says, and Daisy coos and closes her eyes.
“I think she just needed her daddy,” Quinn says.
“I can’t sleep like this. What if I roll over and squish her?”
“How about this. I’ll sit up for a while and watch. When Daisy falls into a deep sleep, I’ll put her in her crib and leave you where you are.”
“I don’t want to keep you up.” Well, that’s not entirely true. I do want to keep her up, in so many other ways.
She crosses the room, sits on the bed and leans her back against the headboard. “I’m sure it won’t be long,” she says—and that’s when I finally notice she’s in nothing but my long T-shirt. Before I can help myself, my eyes travel the length of her, note her bare legs, the way the shirt rides up on her thighs as she stretches her hands over her head.
Motherfucker.
I close my eyes, settle myself on the pillow, and keep one hand on Daisy, just to let her know she’s not alone. She gurgles and falls asleep. I close my eyes, not convinced I’m going to sleep, not with Quinn on the other side of the bed…
But when I open them again, Quinn is just putting the baby into her crib.
“How long have I been asleep?” I ask quietly, and rub the blur from my eyes.
“About half an hour. I think this little one is out for the night. Why don’t you go back to your own bed, now that you’re awake. You’ll probably sleep better.”
I stand, and Quinn’s gaze drops, taking in my boxer shorts.
“It was all I could find when Daisy started crying,” I say, feeling the need to explain. The fact that they’re tenting as I gaze at the beautiful woman dressed in my shirt, well…that doesn’t quite need any explanation.
She turns from me, and I follow her out the door. Quinn lowers the dimmer switch in the hall, and we make our way to our rooms. She pauses for a second outside her door, looks at me like she wants to say something, then darts inside.
“G’night.”
I make my way to my own room and flop down on my bed. I check my phone, read the messages from Zander, and shoot him one back telling him we’re good. I set the phone on my nightstand and hope sleep will come.
I toss and turn, unable to shut down my thoughts. All I can think about is taking my cock into my hands as I visualize Quinn in bed with me, my mouth between her legs, eating at her, sating far too many years of need. My mind goes on an erotic journey, and I spend the next twenty minutes pictures all the dirty things I want to do to my best friend’s kid sister—the one girl who is off limits to me.
Sexually frustrated, I climb from my bed and walk quietly downstairs, needing to wet my parched throat.
I grab a glass of water and open the fridge. When I see the leftover lasagna, I pull it out. I drop it onto the island and grab a fork.
Just then, I hear footstep, and glance up to see Quinn tiptoeing into the kitchen. My dick thickens as soon as I see her, and I revel in the way my T-shirts brushes over her nipples as she walks.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, I was just thirsty.”
“And hungry,” she points out with a grin.
“Always hungry, just like Daisy,” I
say.
Her chuckle is soft, low. “Okay, good. I checked on Daisy and she’s still sleeping.” She makes a move to go, but for some reason, I don’t want her to leave.
“Want a bite.” I scoop up a piece of lasagna and hold it out.
“I normally don’t have carbs this late,” she says, and crinkles her nose, but the hunger in her eyes as she looks at my forks tells another story. She wants a bite.
“We’re not operating under normal circumstances here, Quinn.”
She laughs, a deep, throaty sound that wraps around my dick and tugs. “I suppose one bite wouldn’t hurt.”
She slides onto the chair across from me, and I hold the fork out. She hesitates for a second then leans forward, and lets me feed it to her. Her lips part, and her eyes slip shut as I slide the lasagna in and, so help me, it’s all I can do not to order her to her knees and feed her something else, something that’s swelling between my legs and demanding attention.
Fuck me.
“Mmm,” she moans.
Before I can help myself, I say, “Can you stop making that noise?”
Her lids flick open. “What noise?”
“The moaning. You do it a lot.”
“I always make that noise when I’m enjoying something.”
“Yeah, well, it’s kind of fucking turning me on,” I confess without thinking.
Shit, what are you doing dude?
Her eyes go wide and she sinks deeper into her seat. “Oh, I…didn’t realize.”
We stare at one another for a moment, my appetite for the lasagna long gone.
“You were right,” I say, my voice a little deeper than it was moments ago.
She lifts her chin, but she still seems a bit disconcerted from my confession. “Of course I was.”
I laugh. “Don’t you want to know what I’m talking about?”
She looks a bit hesitant, then she takes the fork from me and digs into the lasagna. “Okay, enlighten me.”
What I’m about to say isn’t smart, and I’m probably going to lose my left nut—and my best friend—but with my blood rushing south, I’m not sure I can stop myself. “You were right about boobs being my thing.”
My gaze drops, and hers follows, to take in the twin peaks on her shirt. Since the house is warm—I jacked the heat to inferno for Daisy’s sake—there can be only one thing making her nipples that hard.
She fucking wants me as much as I want her.
Her hand quivers slightly as she sets the fork back into the lasagna tray. “Yeah, most guys are boob men,” she says, her voice hitching a little.
I’m pretty sure she has no idea where this is going, but I sure as fuck do…and if I knew what was good for me, I’d end this right now. Just go back to bed and rub one out already.
“Since we’re being honest, what part of a guy do you like best?” I ask, in a calm manner that belies the storm going on inside of me.
So much for doing what’s good for me.
Her gaze drops quickly, zeroes in on my abs.
“Ah, an abs girl.”
Her gaze flickers back to me, and her cheeks are pink, like she’s given away too much. “No. I mean…yes.”
“Which is it, Quinn? Are you an abs girl or not?”
“I like abs but that’s not it. I actually don’t know what you call it.”
“Show me.” I step around the counter until I’m beside her. I grip her chair and spin her until she’s facing me.
She lifts her hand, tentative at first, like she might be afraid to touch me, but then her hand goes to my oblique muscles, and she runs the soft pad of her index finger along the length of one.
“Right here,” she says.
“Oblique muscles,” I tell her.
She chuckles, but it’s full of unease and desire.
“Something funny?” I ask.
“No. Well…it’s just they almost look like an arrow, guiding the eyes…or hands,” she says, as her fingers go lower, linger over the band of my boxers. “Down there.”
“Down there?” I tease. “Down where, Quinn?”
She pulls her hand back like I’d just slapped it. “You know where.”
I angle my head and grin at her. “You can’t say it.”
She lifts her chin in a defiant manner, and I have to say, it’s a look that turns me on. Always has. Weird fuck that I am. “I can say it. I’ve said it tons of times.”
She’s lying, and we both know it.
“Are you saying you like to talk dirty?”
She swallows, and the sound curls around us. “Yes.”
“Then do it,” I challenge.
“Fine, they look like arrows guiding the eyes or the hands to your cock,” she says, accepting my challenge. I’m not surprised. Quinn never was one to run away from a good dare, which is why she broke her arm at sixteen when I bet I could climb higher in a tree than her. I still feel pretty shitty about that. “Happy now?” she asks.
“Happy? I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use to explain how I’m feeling right now.”
I move closer, touch her hair, and brush the backs of my knuckles over her cheek as I run the soft, silky strands through my finger.
“Then what are you feeling?” she asks, her voice as shaky as her body.
Since she opened that door, I decide to step through and go for broke. “Aroused.”
6
Quinn
Aroused.
Sweet Mother of God.
Unable to help myself, I let my gaze slide downward—and nearly fall off my chair when I see his erection tenting his shorts, struggling to get free.
Jonah is aroused…because of me.
So what the hell am I going to do about that?
My mouth waters, and my hands itch to touch him as he invades my personal space, the enticing scent of his skin doing the craziest things to my body. I breathe in his fresh, soapy scent and a soft little moan catches in my throat.
“You’re making that noise again,” he whispers.
“Sorry.”
Not sorry.
He quirks a questioning brow, and I know him well enough to knows he’s going to challenge me, like he always used to do when we were kids. “Does it mean you’re enjoying something?”
“I…uh…”
Exactly how do I respond to that? I’m never one to back down from a challenge, and saying yes might get me into his bed. But what if he’s just messing with me, teasing me like he used to do when we were kids?
He puts his hands on my knees and leans in, his mouth right there. If I wanted to kiss him, all I’d have to do is move an inch.
I want to kiss him.
“Well, does it?” he presses.
Okay, girl, if there was ever a time you needed to meet a challenge, take a chance, now is it.
I take a fueling breath, and brush my tongue over my bottom lip.
“Yes,” I say. “It does mean I’m enjoying something.”
A small smile plays on his mouth—and in an instant, I understand he’s not messing with me. Jonah Long wants me.
Jonah Long wants me.
“What are you enjoying, Quinn?”
With that knowledge, I reach out, never so bold in my life, and place my hand over his engorged cock, loving the long length of him. My sex quivers, desperate to be pleasured by this man, to experience his brand of lovemaking. If the rumors are true, I’m in for one hell of a night.
“I’m enjoying this,” I say, and give him a little massage.
A deep growl rips from his lungs.
“Does that sound mean you’re enjoying something, too?”
“Fucking right it does.” He closes his hand over mine, applies more pressure to his cock, and moves his hips.
I moan again, and his other hand goes to my breast. He cups it, lightly runs his thumb over my turgid nipple. Damn, that feels good. I arch into him, letting him know in no uncertain terms that I want this.
“You look hot in my clothes, Quinn.”
“Don
’t you think they’re a bit big?” I ask, my voice coming out a breathless whisper as his thumb strokes me, the sensations running through my body and settling deep between my legs.
Before I realize what he’s doing, he has his hands around my waist and is lifting me until I’m sitting on the island, the marble counter cool against my bare legs.
He forcefully pushes my legs open and slides in between them. Damn, who knew I’d like this take-charge alpha side of him so much? His hand slides up my back, goes to my hair, and he tugs. My mouth opens, and his lips come down over mine.
A gasp catches in my throat as he devours me, his mouth moving over mine, hard, hungry, demanding. Our tongues tangle, and his slashes against the sides of my mouth, tasting me deeply. The man kisses like a God, and I’m breathless, panting when he breaks it.
He cups my breasts again. “I want my mouth here,” he says.
Needy girl that I am, I grip the hem of the shirt and peel it over my head. He chuckles at my eagerness. But then he steps back, his gaze raking over me like a hot caress. Dressed in nothing but my panties, I squirm on the countertop, my entire body beckoning his. His eye meet mine, dark, needy, ravenous, and my lungs compress. My God, he’s going to eat me alive.
I briefly close my eyes, suddenly not sure if I’m ready for a guy like him.
“I take it you need that too?” he asks, and when my lids flicker open, and I see the raw hunger on his face, a new kind of need rips through me.
My brain shuts down, and with desire ruling my actions, I reach for him. “Yes, Jonah. Please…” My God, I’ve never begged for a man’s touch in my life. Then again, I’ve not been with many men…and never any like the Body Checker.
“I like a girl who knows what she wants.”
“Do you?” I ask, and grip his hair to guide his mouth to my breasts, showing him exactly what I want. His laugh vibrates through me, and I quiver when his hot mouth closes over my aching nipple. He sucks, and my pale nub swells even more beneath his deft ministrations.
“Jonah,” I say as he nibbles on my nipple then clenches down slightly until pleasure mingles with pain. A gasp tears from my lungs at the duel assault. Honest to God, I’ve never felt anything quite like it. My sex clenches, and my entire body ignites as his hands roam my nakedness, a hurried exploration of my body, like he can’t get enough of me.
