First and Tension (Summersweet Island 4)

Making that little bit of nagging doubt in the back of my head start working its way forward again.

“Jesus, that was…”

“Really boring. I told you,” I complain, Quinn and me flopping back onto the couch in my living room with long, exhausted sighs.

“I mean, it’s one thing watching golf on television. You can record it and fast-forward through all the boring parts. You can’t fast-forward real life, man,” Quinn complains, making me laugh that his dream of going to a nationally televised, huge golf tournament, thinking it would be super exciting, was dashed in several long, boring hours. “Thank God for Bodhi. If he heckled Palmer one more time, I think I would have pissed my pants.”

“Calling him a dillsack on the 17th hole was unnecessary.” I sigh, closing my eyes and toeing my sneakers off, my feet killing me after walking and standing all over the damn course all evening. “And he did it right by a camera. That’s definitely going to be on social media before tomorrow.”

“Palmer won, didn’t he? That part was actually pretty exciting. I need to hire Bodhi to heckle me on the sidelines for every game.”

Watching Palmer sink his putt to win the tournament and get to see Birdie duck under the spectator rope, race across the green, and jump into his arms in person, instead of on television, really was the most exciting part of the day. It made me think about being in the stands for one of Quinn’s games and being able to do the same thing after he wins.

“Don’t even mention that in front of Bodhi, or you won’t be able to get rid of him every Sunday.” I laugh.

My laughter quickly ends with a squeal when I’m suddenly on my back on the couch, with Quinn climbing over my body and settling himself between my legs. I can’t even stop the contented sigh that comes out of me when I feel him on top of me, his hard body pressing into mine in all the right places. I immediately bring my legs up to wrap them around his waist, locking my ankles together behind his back and resting my hands against his sides as he holds himself above me.

Taking one of his hands off the cushion by my head, he moves it down to my thigh, running his palm up my bare leg locked around his waist, until he gets to my hip, the skirt of my dress bunched up around them now.

“I really like this dress you wore today,” Quinn says softly, shifting his hips, rocking his erection against my core, and showing me exactly how much he likes the short, flowing sundress I put on this afternoon. “And I like hanging out with your friends, and I like everything about this island, and the people here… but you’re my favorite part.”

My heart clenches when he drops his head for a kiss, rubbing his hand up and down my thigh while he takes his time worshiping my mouth, slowly swirling his tongue along mine, making my body heat and tingle with need.

“I like where this is going,” Quinn says softly when he pulls his head back, smiling down at me, rocking himself between my thighs again, making me let out a soft moan.

“So do I.” My reply comes out a little choked when Quinn’s hand slides around to my ass, clutching it tightly in his big palm and helping my body rock against him as he drops his head to the crook of my neck.

“Enjoy all this boring stuff now,” he mutters against the side of my neck, kissing his way up to my mouth and making me squirm beneath him. “This weekend, you get to come to the stadium and watch me put on the Sharks’s yearly peewee clinic, followed by dinner with some of the guys across the street at The Varsity Club. Our little bubble is about to pop.”

Quinn chuckles softly against my lips, but something about that statement feels ominous. I know he’s not referring to our bubble of perfection I keep thinking about, but it still doesn’t sit right with me. Not wanting to ruin this moment, I push everything aside and just enjoy what’s happening right here, in this moment.

“You can stop talking now.”

Quinn chuckles against my lips again, and I slide my hands off his waist, up his chest, and across his shoulders to wrap them around the back of his head, pulling him back down to my mouth.

We make out like teenagers on the couch, Quinn’s body slowly moving against mine while we kiss and touch everywhere we can reach, taking our time removing each other’s clothes in my dimly lit living room, with just a small reading lamp switched on in the far corner by the window.

For the first time since the locker room at the charity event, there aren’t any dirty words, and there isn’t any hard and frenzied fucking. Quinn’s arms slide under my back between the couch cushions, and he tugs my naked body as close to his as possible, kissing me slow and sweet as he enters me the same way.