Her shaking thighs were spread achingly wide as he began pumping into her, now showing her no mercy as she writhed and arched beneath him. He countered every surge of her hips with heavier strokes, driving her back down into the mattress. Her hands rushed blindly over his flexing back and down to his butt, clamping over the firm, clenching muscles.
This was more than sex. This was soul-shattering, life-alteringlovemaking.
Poised above her, his face taut with passion as he gazed into her eyes, Quentin commanded, “Say my name.”
“Quentin,” Lexi whimpered.
“Louder, damn it. Sing it from the rafters. Chase away these damn ghosts.”
“Quentin,” she sobbed.
“Louder.” He pulled back and thrust deep. “Louder!”
“Quentin!”she screamed as her body exploded in an orgasm of such cataclysmic proportions she swore she wouldn’t—couldn’t—survive it.
A moment later Quentin erupted. With his head thrown back, the sinewy cords of his neck straining and his powerful body bucking, he shoutedhername in a hoarse, rapturous voice that brought tears to her eyes.
As the waves of ecstasy crashed over her, breaking her down and liberating her, she clung tightly to him and wept with sweet, glorious abandon.
Quentin gathered her protectively into his arms, cradling her head against his chest and holding her like he’d never let go. “I love you,” he whispered fervently. “I love you so damn much I can’tbreathewithout you.”
Her heart soared, and an unspeakable joy blazed through her. She gazed into his eyes through a sheen of tears and whispered, “I love you too, Quentin.”
And deep inside her heart, buried so deep she’d been afraid to go anywhere near it, another truth echoed.I always have.
Chapter 16
“Ma? Where y’at?”
“In here, baby.”
Munching on a juicy apple he’d swiped from the kitchen, Quentin followed the sound of his mother’s voice to the sunroom located at the rear of her house. She was humming softly as she folded linen napkins and placed them around a table set with her best china and crystal. A centerpiece of fresh-cut flowers from her garden perfumed the air.
“Howdy,” Quentin said around a mouthful of apple.
“Hey, June bug. How are—” She glanced up. And froze. “Lord have mercy,” she breathed, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.
Quentin would have glanced over his shoulder to check for an apparition hovering behind him, but he knew the ghost his mother saw was reflected in his own face.
After several moments, Georgina Reddick blinked to clear her vision and let out a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry, baby. Goodness gracious. You look more and more like your daddy every day. It catches me by surprise sometimes.”
Quentin smiled quietly. “I know.”
She gazed at him a moment longer, then shook her head as if to banish the memories of her late husband, a police officer who’d been killed in the line of duty when Quentin was thirteen.
As she resumed folding napkins, Quentin sauntered over and leaned down to kiss her upturned cheek. Draping an arm around her shoulders, he surveyed the elegant place settings on the table. “Your turn to host the monthly book-club luncheon?”
“Sure is.” She sent him a sly smile. “The ladies will be happy to see you. You know how much they enjoy showing you photos of their daughters and nieces, hoping you might take a shine to one of them.”
At the thought of being ambushed by his mother’s matchmaking friends, Quentin grimaced. “What time do they get here?”
“Two o’clock.”
“I’ll be gone by one.”
Georgina laughed.
At sixty-three she was as beautiful as she’d ever been in her youth. With her smooth honey complexion, patrician features and luminous smile, she bore such a striking resemblance to the actress Lonette McKee that strangers often stopped her on the street and asked for her autograph, which tickled her to no end.
