I laughed. “What isn’t?”
He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck. It was the kind of embrace I’d have squirmed out of with anyone else, or maybe even just a few months ago with him.
Now I liked the closeness I felt when he held me. I liked feeling his body against mine even with our clothes on, not even knowing whether it would lead to sex.
But it had damn well better.
It had been too long, and we’d been looking at each other too hungrily all night, and a separation—however brief—loomed ahead.
Quinn kissed my throat, swept his tongue over my skin. “I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re here.”
I never thought those words would make me happy, but now I wanted to wrap myself up in them, roll around in them, drown in them.
“Me too.” I tilted my head to the side, feeling the tingle begin between my legs. When I felt the nudge of his swelling cock against my ass, I reached behind me and rubbed my hand over it. “I missed you so much.”
Worried he’d get the wrong idea, I twisted to face him, looped my arms around his lower back. “I mean, I missed everything, Quinn. Not just the sex—I missed everything about you. I missed laughing with you, talking with you. I missed falling asleep next to you at night and waking up with you in the morning.”
“You did?” He sounded surprised. “You won’t even let me touch you when you’re falling asleep.”
“I know, but it’s more…” I thought for a second. “It’s just knowing you’re there. That you’ll be there the next day. I like that feeling, and I never thought I would.”
“Good. Because I plan on sticking around.” He went back to kissing my neck. “I might never get enough of you, but I’m sure as hell going to try. Does that scare you?”
“Nope.” I slid my hands down over his ass, pulling him into me. “Believe it or not, deep down I’ve always wanted you to try. I just wouldn’t admit it. It was always you, Quinn.”
He picked his head up and looked me in the eye. “It always will be.”
We kissed, kicking off shoes, unzipping, unbuttoning, unhooking. We let our beautiful clothes fall to the floor where we stood, anxious to feel one another skin to skin. He pulled out my hairpins and slid his fingers into my hair. When we were naked and frantic and unsatisfied with lips and hands and tongues, craving a deeper connection, Quinn took my hand. “I want you in my bed.”
He led me up the stairs and into his bedroom, a large, airy space with floor to ceiling windows and a king-sized platform bed. There was probably more furniture in the room, but I didn’t notice it.
We fell onto the bed and into each other. We kissed as if it had been years, our limbs twined like ivy. I could hardly breathe, but it didn’t scare me. I wanted him to smother me, wanted to suffocate on his love. “I need you,” I whispered over and over again.
It was an unfamiliar kind of need, physical and emotional—my body demanded he fill the aching hollow inside it and my heart begged to escape my chest and be cradled by his. I looked up at him as he slid inside me, his face lit solely by the nighttime lights of the city below. “Quinn.” My voice shook with the panic I felt at finally letting the feeling overtake me, at not being able to describe it.
“I know,” he said, rolling over me, rocking into me as my eyes closed in ecstasy. “I feel it.”
Thank God, I thought as he filled me. Thank God I don’t have to find words. All I had were gasps and sighs, inarticulate cries of pleasure and pain, and breathless moments of agony at the peak, my hands clutching and pulling him closer, closer, closer…would it ever be enough?
And then I had tears, welling up and spilling over as our eyes locked and breath mingled and bodies contracted around one another’s in a long, suspended moment of euphoric release. My fear was gone.
“I’m sorry,” I wept once I could talk. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I swear I’m happy.”
“I know why.” He kissed my forehead. “And it’s OK.”
“Are you going to tease me about this tomorrow?”
“No, sweet pea. I’m not.”
r /> “Thank you.”
“I’m going to tease you about it for the rest of our lives.”
I laughed, swatting him on the butt. “Figures.”
“You OK with that?” He brushed my hair off my face.
“With what?”