Stroke of Luck

He smiled. “I’m glad about that. I’d hate to think I traumatized you by including that in the arrangement.”

“It’s really okay, Quinn. You have nothing to be sorry about. All you’ve done is help me. And the arrangement was my suggestion, so you didn’t take advantage.”

“I did blow it, though.” He stroked her cheek, gazing into her eyes with regret. “The first time I made love to you was a twenty-second bang against the door.” He shook his head.

She leaned closer, her eyes bright and a smile on her lips. “Yes, I remember.” Her voice was sultry. “I loved that you wanted me that much.”

A surge of need rose in him. “Damn straight I want you.”

She smiled. “So what are you going to do about it?”

His fingers curled tighter around hers, and he stood up, drawing her to her feet and pulling her toward the bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door, then drew her close.

He gazed into her eyes, his arms around her.

“This time, I’m going to do things right.” He gently stroked her cheek, loving the feel of her silken skin beneath his fingertips.

He pressed his lips to her neck right at the jawline, below her ear. He nuzzled, and her soft sigh and the way she melted against his body sent heat rushing through him. He fluttered light kisses along her jaw, then tipped her face up until her luminous blue eyes gazed into his.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

Hesitation flickered in her eyes. “You know you don’t have to flatter me. I’m yours no matter what.”

He knew she wanted this. She’d practically suggested it. But now that he was opening up to her, he could tell that she was fearful. Trying to keep a distance. He couldn’t blame her with the way he’d made it clear what he thought about her. She didn’t want to be hurt.

Fuck, the last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt her. She’d been hurt so much by her bastard of a fiancé. And by life.

Whatever he’d thought of her and her motives in the past, right now, all he saw was a vulnerable woman who needed love.

And that’s just what he was going to give her.

“Baby, I know we have an arrangement. But right now, I want you to be with me because you want to be, not because you feel obligated. Is that possible, or have I ruined any chance of that between us?”

Her eyes softened, and the haunting pain that had shadowed them ever since he remembered, even though he hadn’t recognized what it was, faded ever so slightly.

She stroked her hand over his whisker-roughened cheek. “Quinn, I do want to be with you.”

His heart pounded at her words.

She eased closer, her full lips parting slightly, and he dipped down and captured them. The sweetness of her kiss filled him with desire. He glided his tongue forward, nudging her lips. She opened, welcoming him inside.

He slid into her mouth, finding her tongue. He stroked it, then suckled. Her soft, delighted murmurs sent his heart into a staccato beat, and his cock surged to life.

His hands glided down her back, and he pulled her tighter to him. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against her, and the feel of her warmth made his groin ache.

“Oh, God, baby. I want you so bad.”

“I know. I can feel it.” Her hand stroked down his stomach, then over his bulge. Then she squeezed lightly, driving him insane with need. “What would you like me to do now, sir?” she asked as she started to crouch down.

But he grasped her arms and drew her back up.

“No. No sir or Mr. Taylor right now. Call me Quinn.”

She pressed her lips to his jawbone, then fluttered light kisses to his ear.

“Yes, Quinn,” she whispered. Her soft breath in his ear sent tingles dancing down his neck and along his spine. “Whatever you want.”

His cock twitched against her.