For a minute there, it was.
I move my lips to her cheek, her neck. I smile when she moans and grips my arms.
“I was so worried about you,” she gasps, dropping her head against the door behind her. Pieces of her hair escape from the bun on top of her head, and there’s a leaf tangled in the strands. “I thought—”
“When I saw you and knew you were okay, it felt like I could breathe for the first time in years.” I make quick work of her soaked shirt, dropping the heavy material on the tile floor. Goose bumps dot her bare torso, and I rub my hands down her arms in an attempt to warm her up. “I would’ve crawled back to you if I had to.”
“Helpingducksin a hurricane.” Quincy pops the button on my jeans, wrestling with the zipper. I help her drag it down, stopping when she can wiggle my pants off. They fall to my ankles, and I step out of them. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
The second I lost sight of her in the rain, my heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. My roar was as loud as the wind calling her name, and I clawed and climbed over downedtrees until I finally found her. Safe, unharmed, the whole while a thought pounding in my head.
I like her.
I like her so fucking much.
It might even be something more than that.
Telling her that would scare the shit out of her. It’s not what she signed up for, so what I can’t say in words, I plan to say with my hands and my mouth. With a kiss to her thigh and two fingers deep inside her. I put a hand on her stomach, lowering myself to the ground until I’m eye level with her shorts. Her breathing hitches again when I pop the silver button and lean forward, pulling the zipper down with my teeth.
“Are you okay?” I kiss the tattoo on her hip, taking off the pair of denims. Her underwear is black tonight, the same shade as the sky outside, and I tangle my fingers in the stretchy waistband. “Do I need to bandage you up?”
“No. Just scrapes. But your knee. You had trouble walking and—”
“I’m okay. I’m already healed. I’m in heaven right now, actually.”
“Since when did you become religious?” Her back arches when I yank her underwear down, too, leaving her in only a bra. “You don’t strike me as that kind of guy.”
“I’m on my knees in front of you, ready to worship. Consider me converted. A changed man.” I put her foot on my shoulder, running my hand up the inside of her leg. “Your pussy is my altar.”
Her laugh is a mangled noise, catching in the back of her throat when I kiss her clit. I circle my tongue, a forearm across her lower stomach so she’s forced to stay in place. Quincy tries to squirm, tries to find more friction by lifting her hips, but I pull away.
“You are the bane of my existence,” she pants, clawing at my shoulders. Her nails are sharp, jagged bites on my skin, and it makes me grin.
Funny.
She’s the bane of mine, but in a different way.
There’s her and there’s me, and someone with a whole lot of power decided I was lucky enough to live in the same timeline as her, and it’s the most overwhelming part of my entire being.
“You must loathe me.” I drag my tongue from her knee to the apex of her thigh, blowing a hot breath of warm air against her entrance. She whimpers, curling her toes on my shoulders, and my cock aches in my briefs. “Tell me how much.”
“I don’t know if I hate you anymore.” Her eyelashes flutter closed, exhale heavy. Her hands dance up her body, touching her chest and pulling down the cups of her bra. Her tits spill free, and I see the marks I made two nights ago, incapable of being with her and not leaving behind a souvenir that proves I was lucky enough to be there. “And it’s so fucking confusing.”
That makes two of us.
What isn’t confusing is how much I want her, the need only growing when she puts a hand on the back of my head, urging me forward with a silent demand. I smile, happy to submit to her willingly, and I nip at the sensitive skin at her waist.
“You don’t hate this, either, do you?” I touch her clit with my thumb. She’s wet, ready, and I hold her open with two fingers. “This you love.”
“Only when you do it.”
Quincy puts her free hand on the towel rack above her head, holding the fixture tight while I push two fingers inside of her. She hisses and I groan, the noises echoing in the small space. In here, we’re safe. In here, I can protect. In here, I can have her however I want, which is why I push up on my knees, tall enough to reach her chest with my mouth. I bite her nipple then smooth over the sting with my tongue, my free hand tracing her body up to her neck and settling right against the hollow of her throat.
Her pulse drums under my touch, heart beating rapidly while she gasps for air.
“Okay?” I ask, barely stopping to come up and breathe.
“More,” she pleads, circling her hips against my fingers. “I need—I want—” She grabs my necklace, tugging on it hard enough I have to look up at her. It’s embarrassing how much that burst of aggressiveness from her turns me on. Then she says, “Show me you’re okay. That you’re not hurt.”
