Losing It

I push her robe out of the way. Wrap my fingers around the side of her panties.

She gasps as I slide them off her hip.

My eyes meet hers through the mirror.

She nods, offering me permission.

I bring my hand to her other hip. Push her panties off her ass and down her thighs.

She kicks them off her feet.

Stares back at her reflection.

She’s standing in front of me in nothing but her robe.

Fuck, it’s hot as hell.

My fingers curl around her wrist. Slowly, I bring her hand to her stomach. “Show me, angel.” I slide her hand down her torso.

“Will you touch me?”

“After.”

Her nod is heavy. Needy.

She’s too turned on for nerves.

Perfect.

I hold her in place as she slips her hand between her legs.

Her eyelids flutter closed.

Her chest heaves.

Her lips part.

She drags her fingertips up her inner thigh. Over her cunt.

My body buzzes.

This is a million times better than her getting me off.

Than any fucking thing I’ve felt in the last… forever.

I watch as Quinn presses her index finger to her clit.

She rubs herself with slow circles.

Again. Again. Again.

“Look at me, angel.”

Her free hand tugs at her robe.

Her eyes blink open.

She blushes as she stares back at me.

But she does stare back at me.

“Watch yourself.” My voice gets low. Demanding.

Her nod is heavy. Like she’s barely absorbing my words.

I bring both hands to her tits.

Toy with her exactly how she needs me to.

“Fuck.” A groan falls off her lips. “Don’t stop.” Her gaze shifts to her chest. Then it drifts down her body.

Pulls back so she can take in everything.

Her breath catches.

Her pupils dilate.

Her legs shake.

She drags her hand to her thigh. “I want you…” Her voice is breathy. Heavy. “Wes. Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“Make me come.”

My body buzzes.

What else could I possibly want?

“Hands at your sides, angel,” I say.

She nods as her hands fall to her sides.

I keep my body pressed to hers. Keep one hand toying with her chest. Bring the other to her stomach.

I should tease her.

Drag it out.

But I can’t.

I need her bliss too badly.

My fingers dip below her belly button.

Between her legs.

I spread her lips then I press my index finger to her clit. Work her with those same slow circles.

“Wes…” She reaches back. Hooks two fingers through my belt loop. “Don’t stop.”

I bring my lips to her neck.

Suck on her tender skin as I rub her.

Softly.

Then harder.

Harder.

There—

Her lips part with a groan. Her eyelids flutter together. Her limbs relax.

I want to watch this, but I’m not sure she’s got standing in her.

I wrap my arms around her to lead her to the bed.

She shifts onto my lap.

Her back sinks into my chest.

Her legs part.

She’s offering herself to me.

Maybe she doesn’t realize it, but she is.

It hits me someplace that’s usually empty. Someplace that’s never been full.

I want her.

Like this.

And like everything else too.

I bring one hand to her chest.

Slip the other between her legs.

Work my way back to the perfect pressure.

“Fuck.” Her breathe catches in her throat. “I… Fuck.”

Her head falls to one side.

Her eyes flutter open then close.

Her fingers dig into my thighs.

I bring her to the edge.

Then push her over it.

She groans as she comes.

Her legs shake.

Her teeth sink into her lip.

Her brow furrows then relaxes.

It’s fucking beautiful watching pleasure spread over her face.

I know it before she says a word.

This isn’t going to be enough.

Nothing is going to be enough.

Chapter Twenty-One

Quinn

Warm water runs down my fingers. I pump soap into my hand. Press my palms together. Rub.

I’m washing myself off my hands.

It’s weird.

But hot too.

Wes is just…

He’s so fucking sexy.

I already owe him a lot. Everything.

He’s just…

Deep breath. Steady exhale.

Wes and I are having fun. Period. The end.

It’s easy getting attached to an authority figure, but it’s not happening.

There are only three weeks left of my summer.

I’m…

I’m just not going there.

I’m enjoying all of this.

Fun. Sex. Freedom. The end.

Well, the end is Chicago and med school and the complete opposite of fun and freedom, but, um—

Not the problem yet.

I finish rinsing my hands. Dry them on my cream towel.

Reapply lipstick. Blot. Pop.

Perfect.

I step into the main room.

He’s leaning against the couch, his gaze on his cell, his brow furrowed.

“Hey.” I try to keep my voice even, but my chill drains quickly. Something is wrong. It’s not me. I’m pretty sure it’s not me. Or us. Or whatever you call this. But it’s hard to avoid jumping to conclusions.

“Hey. I, uh, I gotta go.”

“Oh.” I swallow hard. That’s fine. No, it’s good. He’s making our boundaries clearer. I should thank him.

“Was hoping to make you something to eat, but there’s a family thing I have to take care of.” He slides his cell into his pocket. Returns to his usual effortless expression. “Fuck, angel, you look gorgeous.”

“Yeah?”

He nods and takes a step closer. “How about I fix you something fast?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Dunno.” He motions to the cinnamon sitting on the kitchen counter. “Can I let you near that?”