Author: Harper Sloan
Category: Contemporary
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"Get over here, let me hold you and watch the damn movie, Quinn. Let your man hold you and give yourself some time to really hear what your body is tellin' you when you're in my arms."
Oh. God.
Do I argue? Nope. Hell, no. That hell-raising badass inside me is already trying to lunge out of my body and curl against him, purring like a slut.
And I like it.
No. I love it.
- -
"What?" I sleepily mumble, trying to muster up enough energy to give a damn that I'm floating, only failing.
"Hush, baby. Movie's long over. It's late and we both fell asleep. Just takin' you to bed," Tate whispers in the darkness.
"'Kay." I curl into his embrace, knowing his strong arms will carry me without fail as I feel my body being lifted.
The only sound I hear is that of his sock-covered feet walking up the stairs and I feel myself drifting. I try to wake up, but the soothing effect of his heartbeat against my ear mingling with the slow rise of his chest as he breathes is making me slip into a powerful spell of contentment. Just like that, I'm helpless to remain conscious and I fall dead asleep with a smile on my lips.
- -
Nine Years Ago--End of the Summer
"I don't want this summer to end," I whisper, curling into Tate's naked body. "I feel like this one just started and now I have to say good-bye to you."
His chest moves as he laughs under his breath. "Darlin', we've done it for the past seven years. What makes the end of this summer different, when I've always come back to you?"
"It's hardly the same! Every summer since we were eleven you'd leave and it would kill me inside knowin' I wouldn't see you again for ten whole months, Tate. It killed me then, and that was before I knew what it felt like to have the boy I love inside my body."
I feel my chin wobble and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying like a child.
"Look at me, baby," he demands softly.
"I can't," I whine shamelessly.
"Now, Quinn. Look at me."
I make a big show of turning, hoping to buy myself some time to kick this vulnerable feeling out of my head. He shifts with me until we're lying face-to-face in his bed. I feel the thick velvet heat of his erection as it presses against my stomach, hard and ready even though we just finished making love not ten minutes ago. I move closer, my nipples rubbing against his smooth chest, and moan a little, making the hardness at my stomach jump.
"Stop," he says, his jaw clenching when I rub against him again.
"I can't help it. I like the way your skin feels against mine."
"So do I, obviously, but darlin' I need you to hear me."
"I hear you," I defend, lifting my leg over his hip and shifting until the part of him I want to feel back between my legs is sliding against my wet pussy.
"Fuck," he hisses, reaching one hand up and grabbing my hips to prevent me from taking him inside my body. "Don't. Move."
His chest is heaving. His handsome face is pulled tight with a frown and pinched lips. God, he's perfect.
The dark curtains in his room are pulled closed, the muted sun, high in the sky, trying to make its way into his bedroom, but only casting a low light into the space. We've practically been skin-to-skin since he called to tell me his grandparents would be gone the whole day and night and that I should figure out a way to spend that entire time with him, in his bed. He was leaving at the end of the week, and this would be one of the last times that we would have a moment like this until he came back next summer. If it was possible, I would spend every one of those moments with him inside me, imprinting the feeling in my brain so I have the memory of it to carry me until I see him again.
Finally gaining control of himself, he opens those blue eyes I love so much. "I know it's different, Quinn. Not just because we know each other in a way that no other person does. Even if we hadn't been each other's firsts, this would still mean just as much to me as I'm sure it does to you, darlin'. I'll get breaks, and I can come back here for some of them instead of goin' to my parents' house. Now you're done with school, maybe you can come out to Georgia. We're gonna make this work. I haven't gone a day without at least gettin' an email, text, or call from you in all those seven years and I'm not goin' to start now."
"It still sucks after what we shared this summer, havin' to say good-bye." I pout, knowing he's right, but still not liking it.
"It won't ever feel right until we're at that point where school and distance don't keep us apart."
"God, Tate, you're goin' to medical school--that's a lifetime!"
He laughs, his chest moving erotically against my breasts. I try to move my hips, but he doesn't relent in his hold.
"It's not a lifetime, Quinn. Nothin' will ever keep me from you. If you love me even a sliver as much as I love you, then a few years apart will just make us stronger. There's never been anyone else for me, and darlin', there never will be."
I feel a tear roll down my cheek, falling against his forearm my head is resting on.
He lets go of my hip, lifting his fingers to my face to wipe away the rest before they all join the one that escaped. He moves until his forehead is pressed against mine, placing the lightest of kisses against the tip of my nose. My breath hitches and I stare into his eyes, soaking up everything about the boy I love, filing it away in a safe place in my mind so that I don't ever forget it.
He doesn't look away or move his head from mine, but I feel his hand slide between our bodies. He shifts his hips, and the leg I slung over them moves with him. Then I feel the thick tip of his cock press against my opening, holding still while he continues to search my eyes.
"No matter how far away I am, there will never be a day that passes that I don't wish I was here. I've never loved anyone else, Quinn, never and that's somethin' that won't ever change. Feel me and let me show you how much I love you. Feel us and let yourself remember that nothin' will ever win except this--us."
Then he's pushing his length into me, my body stretching to accommodate his thickness. I know from watching him sink into me so many times this summer that he's not even all the way in, and I already feel so beautifully full. I whine, needing more, but he just continues his slow push into me, the sensation tattooing itself into my very being.
I know his control is costing him just as much as it's costing me. Both of us are panting with need. My eyes burn with the need to blink, but I refuse to look away from his face until I see him feel me surrounding him completely. I've become addicted to the expression that crosses his face at that moment.
"God, Tate, move, honey," I gasp, the burn of him continuing to stretch me, making my vision blur, even though I'm more than wet enough.
His fingers, now at my hip, flex. The arm around my back jolts, curling up until his hand is cupping my shoulder. Then he gives one steady push and finishes entering me.
The second I feel him hit a spot deep inside of me, I behold what I had been waiting to see. The jaw that had been locked relaxes, his full bottom lip separating from the top one with a small puff of air. His strong cheekbones are covered in a light blush. And those eyes that I could get lost in lose focus even while still looking into mine, as he seems to vanish into some other world; then his lids lower and his eyelashes flutter over his cheeks.
Pure bliss.
That's the expression I crave.
In the seconds that it took for me to get that, my center is already tightening around him just waiting for him to move. That's all it takes for me, and I'm seconds away from shooting off into space.
His eyes open again, clear now, and before he starts to move, the arm around my back yanks me into his chest and his mouth is devouring mine. Then, as if we're moving as one, he's thrusting into me as I roll my hips into his, the erotic sounds coming from both of us muffled as our tongues continue to tangle together. My hands, resting against his chest since we shifted, slide up, one going to rest against his neck and the other wrapping around his back. My nails dig into
his flesh at the same time his fingers clamp down on mine. In the back of my mind, I hope to God that we're marking each other.
When our bodies start to move erratically, both of us on the cusp of euphoric ecstasy, he pulls his head back and pants against my mouth.
"I. Love. You." He stresses each word with a slam of his cock deep into my body.
My toes curl and I explode around him, my body tightening so fiercely that I feel the sensation steal my breath.
"I love you too, Tate," I rasp through a painful deep gasp. "I love you so much."
18
TATE
"Die a Happy Man" by Thomas Rhett
- -
"I love you so much."
My eyes snap open in the darkness when I hear Quinn's murmured, sleep-drunk words as they dance across my neck. I know she's still passed out and just talking in her sleep, since her breathing is just as slow and steady as it was when I climbed into bed behind her ten minutes ago and instantly felt her curl into my side.
But, rational or not, those four words rush through my veins until they slam into my heart, the force of their hit stealing the breath from my lungs.
One day, when she's not lost in her dreams, I'm going to get to hear them again, and I'll fucking make sure she never goes a day without feeling like I deserve them.
I lie there with a stupid fucking grin on my face and let my mind wander. I have no idea how I managed to fight the pull I've always felt to her, not after what I felt snapping into place as I started making my way back over the last two months. The day I found out about Paw, it was just a sizzle of awareness. When I turned in my resignation back in Georgia, it was a burn. The minute I heard her voice over the phone, it was a searing pain, tugging at my chest for all it was worth. Then, when I finally saw her, it was a shot of pure ecstasy to the fucking heart. I had lived without her for so long, I could have cried on the fucking spot.
Ever year the struggle to stay away became more and more overwhelming. The hot summer months in Georgia would hit and I would get the itch to just say fuck the consequences and jump in my truck and speed to her. Then I would remember everything that was at stake and I would spend the next handful of hours later in one of the biggest depressions ever.
I'll never feel that again.
Never.
Not now that I finally have her back in my life. All that's left to do now is convince her to love me again.
And if her dreams are any indication, I'd bet my Stetson at least a part of her already does.
With a smile on my face, I hold her a little closer and fall into one hell of a good night's sleep.
- -
"Why are you lookin' at me like that?" I ask Quinn over the top of my coffee mug several hours later, finally having enough caffeine in my system to realize she really was looking at me like I'm some puzzle she can't quite figure out.
"Like what?"
"Not sure there's a polite way to describe those crazy eyes of yours you got goin' on, Grease."
Slowly, she places her mug on the counter and flips me the bird. "Kiss my boots, Starch," she says with no heat in her voice and a smile on her face.
"I would, if you had any on."
She looks down at her bare feet. I have to resist the urge to do the same, knowing that if I see her standing in my kitchen in just my discarded shirt from yesterday, with those long, tan and toned legs, bare feet with light pink polish on her toes . . . yeah, no fucking way I would be able to resist taking her on the spot.
She looks back at me, a knowing smirk on her face. "Somethin' wrong?"
"Nope," I respond, taking a long sip of my brew.
"You look like you're, what's the word . . ." She trails off, tapping her chin while she pretends to think, fucking minx. "Troubled."
"You're lookin' at me like a crazy person again," I joke, ignoring her prodding.
"Oh, Jesus Jones, Tate. I don't look crazy. I'm just tryin' to figure out how to bring up yesterday to you."
I feel my brows pull in. "What about yesterday?" I hope to fuck she isn't going to push me more about my talks with her brothers.
"You really aren't gonna bring it up? Not even mention it?"
"You've got to be clearer than that, darlin', because I haven't the slightest clue as to what you're talkin' about."
"The lake!" she laments.
Now I'm even more confused. I study her, my mind not completely awake, seein' as we just rolled out of bed ten minutes ago.
"Tate," she snaps with annoyance. "The kiss!"
"Ohhh." I drag the word out, a smile forming on my face that I'm powerless to stop. "That."
"I'm gonna go find my boots and kick you in the rear," she snaps. "Yes! That!"
"What do you want to talk about, Quinn? Want me to tell you how hard I was when you were rockin' against my cock, usin' me to get off? How about how hot it was when your thighs tightened against my legs and you fuckin' shuddered in my arms? Wanna know how all I could think about was how wet your pussy would be if I got my hands down your shorts?"
She doesn't look irritated anymore. Whatever she had thought I would say about that "kiss," it damn sure wasn't what she got. One of her dainty hands is pressed against the granite next to her, the other against her chest, which is heaving as she breathes rapidly. The mouth I can't wait to feel against mine again is hanging slack, shock written all over her face.
"Cat got your tongue, Quinn?" I question, taking another sip and lifting a brow mockingly at her.
"That wasn't fair," she gasps, coming out of her spell.
"How so? Not that I'm complainin', baby, but seems to me if you're amped up and so hot you're burnin' from the inside out, then you're in the same place I've been since you came apart in my arms by the lake."
"So this is payback because you have blue balls? Well, the joke's on you, because I won't be beggin' for more just because you've got me primed and ready to detonate by your words alone."
She must realize just how much she's given away with what I'm sure she had planned to come out as an insult, because she drops her head and mutters a sharp "shit" under her breath.
"You primed, Quinn?" The thickness in my own voice gives away just how turned on this conversation has me, my already-deep voice sounding foreign even to my ears.
"You're such a jerk." She sighs with no conviction whatsoever.
I laugh, feeling like some sort of fucking god because of the effect I have on her. When we were younger--both of us with no experience and learning as we went--she came alive under my fumbling hands. It took me a while though, to find out what worked with her, and it took me even longer to get her to burn her brightest.
Now though, well . . . now I'm not a fucking boy who doesn't know his way around a woman's body. I would give anything to erase the past nine years without her, but I can't. I also can't beat myself up over the fact that I've had other women share my bed when I was stuck living a life I thought would never have Quinn in it again--just as she can't do that for herself. It happened and it will only make us stronger in the end because we know there isn't a soul out there for us except each other--well, I know it with crystal-clear clarity. Quinn's still catching up.
It's not just that the past has taught us that we'll always be connected to each other--that we'll be unable to fathom having anything but meaningless sex with others in our attempts to fill the emptiness each of us feels--but that time and loss have taught us exactly who we are.
It sucks that I know what I do now because of all the time I spent thinking I would never have her again, but it's because of that time that I won't take a single day I have her back for granted. Furthermore, it means I have more tools in my arsenal to convince her mind to believe in us again . . . to follow her heart right to me, back home where it belongs.
She's been watching me while I let my thoughts get ahead of me, and when I finally come back to myself, I realize I miscalculated. She's always been smart as a whip, but it's the twinkle in her eye--the one I hadn't seen shining
while I was stuck in my head--that earned her the nickname Hell-raiser when she was growing up.
"I bet I could get you beggin' for me before you catch me fallin' on my knees pleadin' for you to fill me up with your cock, Starch."
Well, fuck me.
"Now wait just a dadgum minute, Quinn," I rush, dropping my mug to the counter and taking a large step forward to get closer to her. She moves back and I stop, placing one hand on the counter. "I wasn't issuin' a dare and you know it."
One perfectly shaped black brow goes up, and that fucking gleam in her eye all but blinds me.
I'm so fucked.
This girl has always been like a dog with a bone when it comes to dares. Doesn't matter one fucking bit that I didn't intend it to come out that way, it's how she perceived it, and by God, she'll bring me to my knees to win. I just know it.
"Quinn, whatever you're thinkin', put it outta your head right now." I try to sound firm, but she's got me right where she wants me and we both know it. The painful erection I'm sporting now is screaming that yes, yes she will get me to beg before her, at the same time my mind is telling me it would be the best fucking defeat in the world. Can't look at it as losing when either way I end up with my cock in the stranglehold of her pussy.
"I'm not doin' anything at all, handsome," she says innocently with a wicked smirk, a fucking sexy-as-hell smirk that almost has me dropping to the floor to do the begging right now.
"That's what I'm worried about," I mumble under my breath.
She giggles softly and reaches out to pat my cheek. Why that's something that makes my cock twitch in my pants, I'll never know.
"Take me home, Tate," she all but sings. "I need to take Daisy out for a ride and you should probably head out for some kneepads."
"Kneepads?"
There's that twinkle again, fucking hell.
"For when you're on your knees beggin'." She hums, breaching the gap between us and rolling up to her toes to press a kiss against my slack jaw. "Wouldn't want your knees to get sore while you're down there. If memory serves, you happened to like spendin' a lot of time down on your knees." She moves her head, mouth hovering right against my ear, and whispers, "Don't you wonder if I still taste like sugar?"
God. Damn. I reach between us and cup myself, feeling like I'm seconds away from coming in my pajama pants.