He laughs and takes my hand. “You’re in great condition. You’ve got this.”
I glance around. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m talking to you. Now get your gorgeous ass in gear.”
I want to grumble. I want to whine. But I don’t. I climb the damn stairs, having to stop about every thirty steps to catch my breath.
Of course, Quinn isn’t even breathing hard.
“It’s hard to like people like you,” I say when I don’t feel like my lungs are on fire anymore. “This isn’t even hard for you.”
“I work out,” he reminds me. “But we can go at your pace, it doesn’t bother me at all. I just love being with you.”
And just like that, he makes all this torture worth it. We continue to climb, stopping here and there for me, and all I can think is, My ass is going to be in great shape by the time we get to the top. The steps are quite narrow, and it’s good that I’m not claustrophobic.
I know Quinn is staring at my rear, which is going to be not only in great shape, but very sore tomorrow.
But once we’re at the top, I forget all about the torture of getting here. The view is incredible.
“It’s smaller than I expected,” I say.
“That’s what she said,” Quinn quips, making me laugh.
“No, they’d never say that about you, my love.”
He doesn’t reply, just cocks a brow at me as we look out at Manhattan and the harbor below.
“I think I can see your condo from here,” I say, squinting into the distance.
“I think we can see Toronto from here,” he says with a laugh. “I never realized it was this high.”
“Pretty high,” I murmur. I don’t love heights. I’m not deathly afraid of them, but I don’t love them. “I thought you’d been here before.”
“I’ve never been to the top,” he says and links his fingers through mine, then leans in to give me a hell of a kiss.
Damn, the man’s good with his lips.
“Thank you for today. It’s the best time I’ve had in a very long time.” His mouth is near my ear, whispering the sweet words.
“You’re welcome. I had a great time too.”
“I hate to do this to you, folks, but I need you to move along so more people can come up,” the woman in uniform says to us. We nod and take another look around.
“You know,” I say to Quinn and brush my fingers through the hair at his temple. “I think you have a couple of gray hairs.”
He stares down at me in surprise. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, she’s about to go over the side.”
He reaches for me, and I rush away, laughing.
“That’s not funny!”
“Neither is the gray hair comment,” he replies as I make a beeline for the stairs. “So, over the side or I spank you, which do you want?”
I immediately turn my butt to him. “It looks fabulous after all those stairs, so go ahead.”
He swats me firmly, but not enough to sting, then pulls me in for a tight hug.
“Never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.”
“And you love that about me.”
“I absolutely do.”
“Baby.”
I push my face into the pillow, hoping the voice goes away.
“Baby, I need you to wake up,” Quinn croons. I open my eyes, surprised to see that it’s dark outside.
“Jesus, how long did I sleep?”
“Three hours,” he says with a soft smile and pushes my hair off my cheek. “You needed a nap after our busy day out.”
“I feel like a wimp.” I sit up and stretch, yawn and then scoot into his lap. “This is nice.”
“Unfortunately, I have to go.”
“What?” I frown up at him. “Where are you going?”
“Finn called, and he needs me at the office for a little while. It won’t take too long. Do you want to go with me, or stay here?”
“I should get some work done there,” I reply and bite my lip. “But honestly, I think I’ll stay here and paint.”
“I like that plan,” he says and kisses my forehead. “A day off has been good for you.”
“Mm.”
He sets me on the bed and stands to put his wallet in his pocket.
“Want me to pick up dinner on my way back?”
“I’ll make something,” I reply. “I’m feeling domestic today.”
I follow him out into the kitchen, distract us both with another toe-curling kiss, and then he’s gone, and I’m alone in his big, quiet condo.
I love this space. It’s inviting and comfortable, and the kitchen is my favorite part.
It’s just every chef’s wet dream.
I decide on tacos for dinner, which is easy enough, and then remember that there’s a box of brownie mix in the pantry.
“Brownies for dessert,” I murmur. “Yes, please.”
I quickly mix the batter and get it in the oven, set the alarm on my phone for the baking time, and then walk into my studio. I turn on some music, the Maroon 5 station on Pandora, and glance around the space.