Losing It

I meant what I told her last year.

I want to be wherever she is.

I want to be with her.

And this—

Fuck, it’s not happening yet.

No reason to think about it yet.

I wave a goodbye to Owen.

He stares at us for a long moment, assessing our babysitting abilities. He nods his okay, disappears into his room, reappears in a suit and tie.

Quinn gushes about how well he cleans up.

As soon as he leaves, she turns all her attention to Ilsa.

She lights up around the kid.

I thought it would terrify me, but it doesn’t. I’m not scared of family anymore.

I’m not scared of my head.

I’m not Hunter. I’m not spilling my guts to anyone who asks. But I pour my heart into my work. I talk to Quinn. I let feelings into my head.

Yeah, I’m still afraid of getting hurt.

But not enough to keep my heart locked tight.

Missing out on love is a million times worse than losing it.

Casablanca was right about that.

Quinn rests her head on my shoulder. Her eyelids flutter closed. Her sigh echoes around the cab.

“That a happy sigh or a tired sigh?” It’s a warm night, but the AC is turned up high. I wrap my arm around her waist. Pull her closer.

She murmurs something as she nestles into the crook of my neck.

“I’ll take that as ‘tired.'”

She just barely nods. “Happy too.”

“Should I take you straight to the hotel?”

“Where else would we go?”

Somewhere scenic and romantic. A backdrop for this. “It’s a beautiful night.”

Her eyelids blink open. Her gaze shifts to the window.

The city whizzes by.

A yawn falls off her lips. She stretches her arms over her head, pulling her dress up her body.

Fuck, I never get tired of her lush legs.

I want them around my waist.

Against my hands.

Pressed to my cheeks.

I know how to make Quinn come.

This?

Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous.

“It is.” She stares out the window, watching sky and steel bleed together. “I’ve never thought of Chicago as beautiful before.”

“It’s nothing compared to you.”

Her laugh lights up her eyes. “I’m not that tired.”

“Fuck, you don’t like it?”

She shakes her head.

“It was smooth as silk.”

She shakes her head harder. Hard enough her red hair falls over her eyes.

I brush her hair behind her ear. Let my fingertips skim her temple, cheek, chin. “I don’t care if it’s cheesy. You’re more beautiful than any city I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What if I take these off?” She taps her glasses.

“Still beautiful.”

“But?” She raises a brow.

“My dick won’t like it.”

“Aw, poor Wes’s dick.” She tries to keep a poker face, but it doesn’t hold. “How will I make it up to you?”

“I can think of something.”

“What if I get LASIK?”

I feign shock. Shudder. “Angel, don’t talk like that.” I motion to my crotch. “He might rebel.”

“Oh yeah?”

I nod.

She shakes her head. “Aren’t you the one in charge?”

“Sometimes.” I slide my hand to the back of her head. Pull her into a soft, slow kiss.

She groans into my mouth as I scrape my teeth against her top lip.

Her hand goes to my chest.

Blood rushes south.

I need her.

I really fucking need her.

She pulls back with a sigh.

“Like that.” I curl my fingers around her wrist. Bring her hand to my cock. It’s over my jeans and boxers, but the pressure of her palm still feels fucking good.

“Wes.” She clears her throat and nods to the driver. “You’re evil.” She pulls her hand into her lap. Makes a show of facing forward. Folding her legs.

Her blush spreads to her chest.

It’s hot as hell.

But this isn’t the time.

Quinn is far too shy to fuck in the backseat of a cab.

And, well, I’m out of excuses here.

This happens tonight.

“I, um, you were saying something about the night?” She interlocks her fingers.

“That it’s a perfect night to fuck you senseless.”

Her blush deepens. “That wasn’t it.”

“That’s it now.”

“I’ll consider that proposition.”

“Consider it?”

She nods. “You think I’m a sure thing?”

“I think I know how to press every one of your buttons.”

“Well…” She smooths her dress. Clears her throat. Presses her lips into a smile. “That may be true. But only if I let you, ahem, play with my buttons.”

“Go on.”

She shakes her head not here. “I… uh… Reggie and Owen seem happy.”

They do.

“Ilsa is the sweetest thing, isn’t she? I want to smoother her with love.”

“Not sure smothering is the way to go.”

“Ha-ha.” She makes a show of rolling her eyes. “You’re really bringing the dad jokes tonight.”

“Who taught you about dad jokes?”

“People at the office.”

“Which people?”

“All of them. It’s the topic du jour. Well, it was.” Her lips curl into a smile.

Joy overtakes her face.

She loves her job.

I swear, she loves it more than she loves me.

When we first got back to LA, Quinn was scared. She had no idea what she wanted to do. Or what she was even capable of doing. Her biology degree was great for med school applications, but it didn’t help when it came to jobs outside of science.