“Well, I’m sorry for stormin’ off like that and worryin’ you. I shouldn’t have done that. But I ain’t sorry for this… And I doubt this would’ve happened had I not left.”
She pressed a kiss to my chest, the place her lips touched burning to life with desire. “Well, I'm sorry not sorry too, then. I’m sorry that you would think I would lead you on like that. But I’m glad that we ended up here as well.”
Silence descended once more and my eyelids grew heavy. I focused on the sound of her breathing, the feel of her soft, warm skin on mine—like velvet or silk.
Her voice sounded far away when she spoke, and it was only then I realized I’d started to drift off. “Was that—was I okay?”
I stilled beneath her. The sound of her voice. The timidness, the fear—I clenched my jaw. Who the hell made her feel like she wasn’t good enough? Some fucking asshat who probably didn’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman went and made her feel like she’d done something wrong. That was the only explanation i could think of for her to ask that.
My hand found its way to her cheek, and even though I couldn’t see her, I forced her attention on me. “You were fuckin’ amazing, darlin'.” The sound that came out of her was like amixture of a sob and a huff. It pulled on my heartstrings. “Why would you think that you weren’t good enough?” I couldn’t hold back the anger in my voice, and I prayed to God she understood it wasn’t aimed at her, but whatever fucking dickhead made her feel less than.
“I just…I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. I…” The bed shifted and the warmth of her body vanished, her sweet, already familiar scent drifting away. I bit back a curse, instantly missing her touch.
So I sat up too, though I didn’t reach for her. Not yet. Something told me she needed this moment. To sort out her emotions. Her thoughts.
When she spoke, her voice was small, weak. “I’ve only ever been with one guy, and, well…sex was always one of our weak points. I guess I’m just a bit self-conscious because of that.”
“You got nothin’ to be insecure about. Whatever problem that asshat had was on him, not on you.”
Choked laughter escaped her, but sadness still lurked beneath the surface as she sniffled. “I’m sorry, I’m a stupid, sobbing mess.”
Fuck, was she crying? What the hell?
No, I wouldn’t allow that. Reaching forward, I scooped her up into my lap. She melted against me, fitting in my arms like she’d been made for them. Were soulmates a thing, or was I just so fucking whipped that I’d believe anything was a sign at this point? Was I so starved for a connection with someone that I was making shit up?
No, this wasn’t me just being desperate. I didn’t believe that. Maybe with someone else. But, I don’t know, Quinn didn’t strike me as the type to just sleep with anyone. Not when she clearly had a past.
“Hey…hey now, no cryin’,” I murmured as she wrapped her legs around my waist and rested her head in the crook of myneck, right between my collarbone and jaw. Her body quaked with quiet sobs.
Well, shit. I hadn’t expected things to take such a drastic turn. I found her face with my hands and cupped her cheeks. “Quinn, hey. What’s goin’ on?”
Another sniffle. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know. I just—you’re probably used to being with these super confident, super sexy women, then here I am, all self-conscious and pathetic and insecure.”
“Who said you aren’t sexy as hell?” I asked, pressing a whisper-soft kiss to her lips.
Her weak disbelieving laugh spoke volumes of what she thought of herself. “I’m not. Trust me.”
I gripped her chin, not too tightly, but with a firmness that I hoped urged her to understand what I meant was important. “You don’t get to tell me what I think is sexy, darlin’. You don’t have to agree, but you got no control over what I think. I like you, Quinn. I like how you make me feel. I like that with you, the darkness doesn’t seem so, well, it doesn’t seem so dark. So fuckin’ bleak." I blew out a breath. "More days than not, I think of how much I hate what’s become of my life, but not today. So are you the most confident, experienced woman I’ve ever slept with? No. But you’re the first I’ve slept with who’s made me feel alive again. And I think that’s pretty fuckin’ sexy.”
Her fingertips brushed against my eyebrow, pushing my hair off my face. I wished I didn’t flinch at movement, but people touching my face always was a bit disconcerting now.
“Sorry,” she murmured, before asking weakly, “You hate your life?”
And there was so much sadness, so much honest curiosity in her words, that I almost told her everything. About the accident. The months of rehab after. Learning to walk again. Learning tolive again—if what you could say I did now was living. Some days it felt like I did nothing more than survive.
I moved my hand from her chin, sliding it back along her jaw and into her hair. It was soft and silky and smelled nice. I kissed her, slow and deep, before pulling away only far enough to whisper against her lips, “This ain’t about me, Quinn. Right now’s all about you.”
“How are you even real?” she asked, a sense of awe in her words.
I brushed my lips against hers once more. “I could say the same about you, darlin’.”
An appreciative moan escaped her. “I like when you call me that.”
I let out a low chuckle and gripped her hair a little tighter, tilting her head back so I could rain kisses down her neck. She seemed to like that too. “Oh, yeah? How ‘bout you tell me what else you like?”
Her voice was tentative, but husky as she whispered, “How about I show you?”
I grinned against the base of her throat, biting gently at her collarbone before kissing the hurt away. “I’d like that very much.”
