Page 35 of A Simple Life

I reached over and ran my finger down her cheek. “I’d like that.”

“Do you know what I’d like?”

“Tell me,” I replied, my voice dropping to a husky whisper.

“I heard your hugs are the best. I’d like to find out.”

I pulled her close, holding her in my embrace. She fit against me, looping her arms around my waist. I held her tight, breathing her in. Then I slipped my fingers under her chin and stared down at her. “Do you want to know what I want?”

“I’m hoping it’s the same thing I want,” she murmured, kissing my thumb that lingered near her mouth.

With a groan, I captured her lips with mine and kissed her. There was nothing gentle and sweet about it. It was hard and deep. Claiming. I explored her, drinking her in, sliding my hand to her ass and cupping it. She responded, her breathy sounds egging me on. My cock hardened, trapped between us, and it was only the sleeping child in the back seat that stopped me from pinning Quinn against the vehicle and ravishing her completely.

I heard the squeak of the wooden door, and regretfully, I eased back, but not before dropping three fast kisses to Quinn’s wet lips. She blinked up at me, her gaze unfocused and filled with passion.

“Call me when you get home.”

“I don’t have your number.”

I took her phone and programmed myself in, then called so I had her number.

“Call me.”

She climbed in, starting the car. She shifted into drive and looked at me, rolling down her window.

“What is it?” I asked.

“They were right. Best hugs ever.”

Then with a wink and a wave, she drove off.

I waited until her taillights disappeared and went inside to face the inquisition.

10

QUINN

Abby stayed asleep during the drive home, not waking even as I slipped her into bed. I wasn’t worried about a bath—she’d been swimming enough all day. I left her T-shirt on and tucked her in, making sure Enid was beside her. I looked around for Fluffy, but the bear wasn’t there. I must have left her in the back seat. I would go and get her before I went to bed, or Abby would be upset in the morning if she couldn’t find her.

I left the night-light on as usual and headed to my room. I took off my overalls, hesitating before I pulled off the shirt John had given me to wear. I clutched the collar, bringing the soft white fabric to my nose and inhaling deeply. He smelled so good every time I was close. It reminded me of summer rain and fresh-cut grass. And since I was wearing an article of his clothing, it was stronger, more saturated, and I had to admit, I loved it.

I left it on the bed and took a shower, washing my hair, and I put on a pair of loose shorts. Unable to resist, I slid his shirt back on, once again surrounded by his scent. I headed to the kitchen after peeking in on Abby, poured a cold glass of water, and settled on the sofa with my Kindle. Except I kept staring at the page, not seeing the words, but recalling the day. The past two days.

Thinking especially about John.

His unexpected visit yesterday and the swing he’d made Abby. How easy it had been with him, helping, watching him as he put it up, his first priority her safety. He had no idea how incredibly sexy he was swinging himself up on the branch to test it out. Climbing the ladder and knotting the ropes. Even the care that went into his creation of the simple swing itself. The bright pink he had painted it. The decorative flowers and the many layers of varnish to seal it so she wouldn’t get a sliver.

All for a little girl he barely knew.

It was more than her father had done her entire life.

Images of the last hours flitted through my mind. John looking pleased and excited with the picnic lunch. His smile was almost shy as he showed us his house. The huge central kitchen, with a good-sized dining room and a living area. There were four bedrooms, two on either side of the kitchen, plus an office and a large storeroom. The furniture was older, comfortable, and the entire house had a loved and used look. The well-worn floors gleamed in the light, glossy with age. There was nothing pretentious or fancy about it. He was excited to take us to the swimming hole. His honest and lavish praise for the lunch I had made brought a smile to my mouth and color to my cheeks. He seemed to like that.

I liked the way his chest rippled as he pulled off his shirt to get into the water. His torso was tight and ripped. His arms strong, his biceps flexing as he moved. His legs were powerful, his thighs thick, the muscles bunching in sexy waves under the skin. I’d had to look away, the lust that flared inside me simply by looking at him almost bringing me to my knees. I had never felt anything like it.

And when he’d finally kissed me again, I almost exploded. His lips were surprisingly soft, considering the cross words he often uttered. But when he was kissing me, he was completely sweet. And sexy. He made some low, growly sounds in his throat. His chest rumbled against mine in pleasure. His embrace was tight, his caresses indulgent. He made me forget about everything, but him. Us. The sensations he brought out. My past didn’t matter. Our heated interactions faded away. There was only him and me.

I sighed, running a finger over my lips. I swore I could still feel the possession of his mouth on mine. And I liked it. Maybe too much.