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I lean down to kiss her, but her hand darts out to my chest and presses against me, stopping me in my tracks.
“Why?” I ask. “You thought it would keep me away from you? I told you nothing would.”
“We can’t do this. I should go,” she says, her lashes fluttering as she starts to pull away.
“Or you could stay,” I counter. “Let me try to do penance in some other ways.”
“That would just confuse things between us, and they’re already messy. We fuck and then suddenly this dynamic is muddled. I’m not losing everything I’ve worked hard on just for an orgasm.”
“Give me credit. It’d be at least two or three.” I try to lighten the mood.
“See. Already mouthing off.” She levels me with a look.
“Then keep being the boss.”
Curiosity flashes across her face, and the way it lights her up, makes my heart rate pick up. All that blood pools south as I think about having this woman again.
“You don’t strike me as the type who could give up control.”
I haven’t been in the past. But for her, I’ll try anything she wants. If the only way she’ll take a chance on me is keeping all the control, I’ll give it to her.
I kiss the side of her neck. “I’m willing to try. Besides, haven’t I been good for you so far? Doing everything you want?”
“Yes,” she breathes the word as I kiss my way down her jaw and my hands ghost their way over her curves. “But I’d only be using you for the sex—to be clear. This would just be so we can get this out of our system and move on.”
“Understood.”
“And whatever happens behind closed doors stays there. Publicly I’m A.J.’s, and you and I are nothing but coworkers.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I whisper against her lips before I kiss her again.
22
Madison
I kiss Quentin tentativelyand his hands are slow and careful as they make their way up my sides. I want him, and now that he knows the truth I’ve given him everything he needs to know to break down my defenses. He’d already been suspicious. The oops phone call and the kiss had only driven him toward the conclusion he was hoping for—one where I give in. And right now, I’m a weak woman for a multitude of reasons.
I’m lonely and it’s been a long time—too long, really. It’s been so bittersweet watching everyone around me fall hard in love. Watching time tick past while I keep dating strangers and go home alone because we couldn’t even hold a decent conversation. Wishing someone could see past the Westfield name to see me. But it’s so much more than that.
I wanthim. Imisshim. More than anything else in this moment. Want his hands all over me. Want his mouth on mine.Want to hear him say all the things he used to about how he felt about me. How he loved how beautiful and smart I am, and how I’m the only one who makes him want this badly. Because before everything fell apart, I was convinced this man was the only other person on earth who saw me and saw things the same way I do. Whowantedthe same things I do. The one person I felt like would love me through anything.
But he didn’t. Which means I can only have the shallow end of what this could have been now. I can take the things I want from him and leave the ones I don’t. Give him some of what he wants too. But only if I’m careful. Only if I don’t lose sight of what this is really about.
He starts to walk me backward, toward his room, and I let him take us that way. His lips are down my neck and over my clavicle, and his hands dip under the back of the shirt I have on. His palms brush over my skin, up my spine, and then down again, slipping over my back and down over the curve of my cheeks before they tighten.
I put distance between us then and grab his belt, undoing it and then unthreading it from the loops. His brow raises as he watches me.
“Lie back on the bed.” I nod toward it, and I see the flicker of defiance in his eyes.
Quentin’s used to being in charge—on the field and off it. He’s definitely used to being in charge of me when we’re fucking. He gave me almost all of my firsts. Walked me through each of them slowly, constantly asking questions to see if I was okay and patiently taking me at a pace I was comfortable with. But there was never any doubt that he was in the driver’s seat. So the idea that he’s going to let me have control now seems a little far-fetched. I’m waiting for him to tell me that he’s changed his mind.
But he surprises me when he pulls his shirt off one handed over the back of his head and tosses it to the floor before heclimbs on the bed. He lays back and gives me a soft smile and the slight raise of his brow in question.
I use the belt to tie his hands to the back of his bed, tightening it and admiring the way his muscular arms look from this angle—stretched over his head. Every inch of him is sexy as fuck. His tattoos, his chest, the way I can see the anticipation in his eyes. Everything about him has improved with time, and I’m jealous because of it. That I missed all the years in between.
My hands fall to his pants, and I undo the button and zipper.
“Lift your hips?” I ask nicely. I don’t know how to do this bossy-in-bed thing either. I’m good at doing it all day at work, but usually, I prefer someone else taking the lead in bed. The idea of Quentin doing that to me, telling me how he wants to fuck me, using me how he wants turns me on so much I can already feel the answering throb in my clit. But first, he has to earn it. I have to know he can do this without abusing our dynamic at work.
