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I’m close enough that if he just keeps the pace, another orgasm will not be a problem.
Erik takes my mouth in a rough kiss, pressing his tongue deep as he thumbs my clit and grinds his hips into mine. For one brief second, I am so close to the edge that it’s almost painful, and then I fracture outward. Fire spreads through my veins as I tremble and cling to Erik’s arms. Either I slam my eyes shut or I white-out for a moment, because when I open them again, staring through the strands of hair stuck to the sweat pouring down my face, there he is. Erik’s jaw is stone set. He holds me to him with bruising force.
“You’re everything, Quinn.” He says and presses his face to my neck, groaning a hoarse curse as he empties inside me.
“You really like me on top,” I tease after I collapse off Erik’s lap, go to the bathroom, and he’d disposed of the condom.
“I like the view,” he agrees.
I pull back my covers and slip underneath them. I pat the mattress beside me and Erik frowns.
“We’re taking a nap, Erik Varg. Get over here.” It’s too early to go to bed—we haven’t even had dinner—but I like post sex cuddling.
“I can leave my leg on,” Erik says, keeping his back to me.
I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tight. I can feel his body relax into mine, and it’s almost as good as an orgasm.
“I said I don’t mind because I don’t mind. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice, but I also didn’t really notice because it’s just part of you. Can you take it off for a short while? I did some research online and I can offer you lotion. Do you need a special compression sock?”
“I can go a night or two without my shrinker.” Erik says. He presses a small button at the bottom of the fiberglass shell and then his leg is off. He unrolls a thick white sock from over his knee. At the end of the sock is a metal pin, one that undoubtedly attaches to the prosthetic. Erik leaves the sock inside out and sets them on the floor next to my bed. He slides into the sheets next to me, and I smile as he hunkers down under the covers. He pushes his arm under my neck and tugs me into his chest.
“This okay?”
He’s warm and solid against my body, and I swear he’s already gearing up below the belt for round two.
“This is perfect.”
I already feel drowsy, my eyelids drooping as his body heat cocoons me. For just this moment, I can let myself believe that this is the start of something real. Something beautiful. I’ll pretend that we had a round of hot sex because we’re a regular couple—one that can’t keep our hands off each other—instead of two people desperate to soak up every second we have together as our time slips from between our cupped hands like sand.
Erik’s breathing evens out, puffing warm air over my skin. His eyes close, and even in sleep, the corners of his mouth tip up.
“You’re the right person,” I press the words into his skin. “This just isn’t the right time for either of us. No matter how much I wish it was.”
“Don’t count me out just yet.” He pulls me in closer.
“I thought you were asleep.”
Erik hums in agreement and kisses me back when I press my mouth to his. He bands his arms across my hips when I turn away, pressing my back to his front.
“We still have a little time,” he says into my hair.
And two hours later when I wake to the soft kisses he presses to the nape of my neck and the insistent piece of him pressed to the soft curve of my ass, I lift his hand to cup my breast and he proves true to his word as he lifts my thigh, hooks my foot over the back of his hip, and slides deep inside me for the second time.
If I thought my first flight home was tough, this one is going to be impossible. Quinn and I stayed together through the night and most of this morning, and it was glorious. Everything I’ve never let myself want. She was still asleep when I woke, my body wrapped around hers like a climbing vine. My hand cupping her breast in a proprietary grip, and my thigh pressed between her legs. There’d been a large orange cat asleep against the curve of my back, purring like white noise into the room. Quinn snores a little, the snuffling sound cute in the otherwise quiet house.
We both stayed up late and in bed the entire evening. I lost count of the rounds of sex some time after midnight, but I’ll never forget the husky sound of her laugh or the deep moan she makes when she clenches down on my fingers, my tongue, my cock as she comes. We didn’t even break long enough to eat or shower. We sat propped up against the headboard as she read chapters of her current novel out loud, blushing as the characters stripped off their clothes. When her cat joined us, we introduced Tesseract to Loki through photos on my phone.
It’s terrifying how easily we seem to fit, and I’m terrified by the prospect of walking away. I can’t remember the last time I even considered staying with someone.
Quinn’s hair is a tangled mess, falling over her eyes and nose, and shifting every time she breathes. My fingers tingle with the desire to push it back out of her face and press my mouth to hers, but I don’t want to wake her. I’ve been waiting, almost all night, for her to ask about my leg, comment on it, do something other than forget it’s missing, but she hasn’t. I’m growing increasingly aware that I need to tell her about the other parts of my past. At first, putting it off had been understandable because we had no plans to see each other again. I can’t pretend that still applies. Even if this is our last moment together, our last chance, Quinn still deserves to have all the information.
I’ve gotten so good at not sharing this piece of my past that I’m nauseated at the thought of telling her. I’m terrified that it will change everything between us. It changed everything in my family and now I’m clawing my way back to them millimeter by millimeter. What if she looks at me as an invalid? What if she doesn’t? It’s going to hurt her. Telling her about my past is going to bring up all the fear and worry she has for her dad. I don’t want to do that to her either.
It needs to be soon, or I won’t do it. Not until I’m back in Chicago and typing the words out on my phone. The scared teenager I never grew out of wants to tell her over text. The adult I’ve become, the one with extensive therapy under his belt and fancy degrees, knows she deserves this in person. But as she stirs, her body arching against mine, I decide it doesn’t have to be right this second. It can wait a bit longer. I still have time.
Quinn freezes, stiffening as if she’s surprised I’m still here, but then she relaxes almost immediately and turns to face me. I give into the need and brush her hair back, letting my mouth move across hers in a gentle sweep.
“What time is it?” She stretches her arms over her head before looping them around my neck.
