I took my time, learning every single inch of her. Her wants, her needs, her likes. What made her toes curl, what made her scream with desire. And when the two of us finally settled in for the night, when every nerve ending in my body was so awake and alive and burning that even the feel of her wrapped up in my arms was so intense it almost hurt, I knew that in the morning nothing would be the same.
Which was a terrifying, yet exhilarating notion, to be honest.
Chapter eleven
Til You Can’t
Quinn
Iawoke to aloud crash, followed by a muffled curse.
What the hell?
Bolting upright, I blinked the sleep from my eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the low light of the room. Where was I?Oh, right. Memories of the night before swirled to life in my head like tendrils of smoke. I glanced at the empty spot in bed beside me.
Oh my God. Hux. Was he okay?
I pulled the topsheet from the bed, wrapping it around me, and hurried toward the source of the crash—the bathroom.
It was dark in there as Hux’s familiar growl echoed off the tiles. Flicking the light on, I found him in the middle of the bathroom, looking lost and pissed as all hell. His lips were drawn down into a scowl, his brows furrowed beneath his sunglasses.The curtain to the shower had somehow been knocked down.Must’ve been the crashing sound then.
“Hey, you okay?” I asked tentatively, so as not to startle him.
He stilled for a moment, every muscle in his body going rigid, before he loosed a breath and turned to me. “I was tryin’ to leave and not wake you, but apparently that didn’t fuckin’ happen.”
My heart sank. Why had he wanted to leave without me knowing? Did he not want to see me? The answer was like a shout in my head as doubt settled like stones in my stomach. “Oh,” I said, defeat creeping into my tone.
“Wait—” Hux took a hesitant step toward me. Then another. And another. I reached out and pressed a hand to his chest so he didn’t bump into me. “I didn’t leave because I was tryin’ to sneak out. Well, not cuz I didn’t wanna see you or anythin’ like that. I just didn’t wanna wake you up. I gotta go feed and get to work for the day, and, well, it seems unfair wakin’ you up at 5:30 on a Sunday mornin’.”
And just like that, he pulled me against him, caging his arms around me. Relief blossomed in my chest. How was it possible to feel so at ease in someone’s arms? How was it possible he could take away my worries in a heartbeat, like the tide erasing footprints in the sand? “I’m sorry,” I replied, “I know I’m being insecure, I just—”
He stopped my sentence right in its tracks with a gentle, yet insistent kiss to my lips. Butterflies seemed to flutter behind my ribcage.
“I know,” he murmured against my mouth. “You don’t gotta explain or apologize.”
Drawing back to look up at him, I grabbed his hand. “Here, I’ll walk you out. You won’t get very far in here. We’re in the bathroom.”
He huffed but let me lead him out into the room. After changing quickly, I grabbed his hand once more, partly tohelp him navigate, but mostly because I enjoyed the feel of his calloused hand in mine. And maybe, possibly, definitely, because I was terrified that after he left things would be different. So for now, for these next few minutes, I’d savor his touch and presence.
“So,” I asked, glancing over at him as we walked down the quiet hallway. “What all do you do here for work?”
I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I was genuinely curious because I didn’t know the first thing about cowboys or ranch work or what all that entailed. And also because, well, I couldn’t imagine having to do it without my vision.
“I feed, water, and work all the horses mostly, since none of these dipshit cowboys can train worth a shit. I can buck hay easily enough, and as long as one of the guys gives me directions, I can hold my own with most manual labor.”
“You do all that without…” My words trailed off, uncertainty welling up inside of me. I didn’t want to sound callous or rude.
“Without seeing?” he finished. “You can say it. It ain’t gonna offend me.”
“I just don’t want to be insensitive,” I said, pulling him to a stop for a moment as we came to the front door. Opening it, I led him onto the front porch.
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. I can’t see for shit. I’m blind. It’s a part of me now, as much as I hate it. There ain’t nothin’ offensive about you sayin’ it out loud.”
He said it with such nonchalance that it both eased my fears a bit and made my heart hurt. But it was clear from his tone, from the way he talked about his situation, that he hated people making a big deal about it.
“I’m sorry.” I gave his hand a soft, reassuring squeeze.
He pulled me into his arms and the butterflies in my ribcage started fluttering about once more. “Can we do this again?” he asked.
