Losing It

It sends my blood racing to my cock.

There’s something wrong with me.

Her manners shouldn’t be this much of a turn on.

But they are.

They really are.

I inhale deeply. Replay yesterday’s most irritating client. This guy who walked in wanting a back piece, with no prep time. I tried to tell him I couldn’t design something that intricate in twenty minutes, but he wouldn’t listen.

Probably should have told him to fuck off.

But I made it work well enough.

It was a fun challenge, actually.

Kinda like—

Fuck, this isn’t working.

I’m not cooling down.

I’m drifting off.

I have to stay here. In this moment.

And I have to stay patient.

Somehow.

“You love your job?” she asks.

“I do.” I pull her closer. Until her back is against my chest. It’s nice talking to her. Easy. I almost want to spend the night with our clothes on.

No, I do want that.

Only I can’t handle that kind of intimacy.

I understand sex.

I don’t understand this.

Fuck, I don’t even have a word for it.

Better to focus on what makes sense.

I hold her in place with one arm. Bring my other hand to her thigh. Play with the hem of her dress.

“Wes…” Her voice gets low. Nervous.

This is a lot for her.

I need to go slower.

“Yeah?” I brush her hair behind her head.

“You, um… I forgot.”

“That’s okay.” I press my lips to her neck.

She lets out a soft murmur. “How did you start with tattoos?”

“Stole Chase’s gun.”

“Really?”

I nod.

“What happened?”

“Got into a lot of trouble.”

“How?”

“Lean down.”

“What?”

“Pull my jeans up.” I pat my right leg. “This side.”

She leans forward. Grabs the denim fabric and tugs.

Fuck, this view—

“Oh.” She shifts off the bed. Between my legs.

She’s exactly where she needs to be. This is exactly where I need her.

Her fingers curl around my ankle. She traces the lopsided skull and cross bones. “You did this?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s—”

“Terrible.”

“Crooked.” She looks up at me.

Fuck, she’s right between my legs.

Those hazel eyes are big.

Those glasses—

“Oh.” Her gaze settles on my crotch. “I didn’t, I, um…”

“It’s not gonna hurt you.”

She stares at my hard-on like it’s about to bust through my jeans and attack her.

At the moment, it feels like it might.

“I…” She stands. Stays between my legs. “I did that.”

I nod.

“But… how.”

I bring my hands to her hips. “You’re positioned like you’re about to blow me.”

“Oh.”

“Puts ideas in my head.”

“Good ideas?”

“Fucking great ideas.” I pull her into my lap.

She yelps as she wraps her arms around my shoulders.

We fall onto the bed.

It’s far from smooth.

But, fuck, seeing Quinn sprawled out over my grey comforter—

I’m going to come in my jeans at this rate.

“Come here.” I place my body next to hers.

She moves closer.

I wrap my fingers around her wrist. Bring her hand to my waist.

“We haven’t kissed yet,” she whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t touch your dick until we’ve kissed.”

“Let’s change that.” I bring my hand to the small of her back. Pull her body into mine.

She groans as my hard-on brushes her stomach.

She looks up at me for a moment.

Then those big, hazel eyes close.

Her lips meet mine.

It’s not like kissing other women.

It’s just as hot.

Just as deep.

But it’s a million times better.

It’s fucking magic.

Chapter Eleven

Quinn

I’m kissing Wes Keating.

The neon sign flashes in bright, brilliant orange.

I’m kissing Wes Keating.

He tastes like wine.

And like Wes.

And, well, I can do this.

I have done this.

Only…

He sucks on my bottom lip. Softly. Then harder. Then he’s scraping his teeth against my flesh.

It’s hot as hell.

And so beyond my level.

He’s a great kisser.

We’re just starting and I can tell he’s a great kisser.

Whereas I…

Is this enough tongue? Too soft? Too hard?

Is my breath okay?

Is…

His fingers curl into my hair.

His hips rock against my pelvis.

His hard-on brushes my stomach.

My dress and panties and his jeans are in the way, but I can still feel the pressure of him.

I’m doing that.

I’m making him hard.

It’s not the first time it’s happened—I’ve dated a little—but it’s the first time it’s made my sex clench.

With other guys, I was scared.

Terrified I’d do something wrong.

Or that it would be uncomfortable.

Now…

Well, I’m still scared. But I’m more okay with my fear.

I have to go for it. To kiss him back.

I part my lips.

His tongue slips into my mouth. Swirls around mine. It’s just the right pace. Not too slow or too fast.

And it’s just the right pressure.

He’s really good at this.

I pull back with a heavy sigh.

His fingers brush my temples as he slides my glasses off my face.

He reaches backward, drops them on his bedside table, brings his hand back to my hip. “You okay?”

I nod. “Am I… am I doing it wrong?”

“Not wrong.” His eyes fix on mine. Something spreads over his face. Something he wants to say.

“But not right either?”

He doesn’t answer the question. “What are you thinking about?”

“Everything.”

“Stop.”

“Stop thinking?”

He nods.

I stare at him, but that does nothing to change his suggestion.

He stares back with those piercing blue eyes.

Stop thinking?

He might as well ask me to stop breathing.