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“Because I want to break the cycle,” he says.
“Break the cycle?” I repeat. He nods, his eyes on mine.
“Break our cycle, Quinn. We might not know what good parents do, but we know exactly what not to do.”
For a while there, things were starting to look up for me. That’s when I should have known that it was too good to be true.
That first day after Quinn left the hospital, we went to the grocery store and bought loads of things pregnant ladies eat and drink to get rid of their morning sickness, and of course, prenatal vitamins. We carried all those things to Quinn’s apartment, because it was slightly closer and because despite my place being cleaner and bigger, Quinn didn’t wan
t to stay with me permanently. Or maybe she just wanted her apartment back. I don’t know much about women or how they operate, but I gave her what she wanted. There was no point in fighting when I knew I’d get my way, eventually.
Afterward, we went for a walk together. It was cold, so I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She didn’t protest, and I tried not to read too much into that. We had lunch at a Thai restaurant and both hated it. It looked quite fancy, which is why I walked in. I wanted us to celebrate that day, because it felt like a celebration. We may have not enjoyed the meal, but we enjoyed each other’s company. When we walked back out, she took my hand and wrapped my arm around her shoulder again and said, “I know you feel like I’m about to bite off your limb every time you try to show me physical affection. Let it go. There’s no wrong or right way of showing someone you care. You just…do.”
I’ve decided that those are words to live by. Don’t think. Don’t overanalyze. Just do. Do what feels right. Everything with Quinn feels right.
Two weeks passed, and things were grand. I pretty much moved into Quinn’s apartment, but this time I used the key. Well, that’s not entirely true. One night, after I’d gotten back from work at the club, I decided to sneak in through the balcony again. Stiles was there on a shift outside her door, making sure that she was okay, as per usual, and I had the key. I don’t know why I did it. I just felt the need to stalk my prey. Old habits die hard, I suppose.
I walked straight into her bedroom and watched her bare legs wrap around the linen, squeezing them between her thighs, and I wanted to be the sheets between them. Wanted to so bad, I’ve forgotten why I denied myself to begin with.
Sex with Quinn was perfection, until I lost control and it wasn’t. I didn’t have to think about anything. I didn’t feel like she was judging me, or grading me for my performance. But for some reason, having sex while she carried my child felt different. I was scared to lose control again, for one. And it just felt more… more real, more intense, more everything.
I crawled into her bed and watched as she stirred from side to side, her red hair fanned out across her pillow.
“Carter,” she moaned my name, almost on a whisper. Her voice silk and velvet, traveling the short distance from her pillow to my throbbing cock. “Carter?” Her eyes were still shut.
This was Quinn for you. Ever since she fell pregnant, she somehow managed to sleep like the dead. Her slumber was deep, and usually I was happy to sit by her side and watch her sleep. But tonight, I wanted to do more than watch.
This was a lie. Every night I wanted to do more than watch. To do everything. But that night, I finally felt brave enough to do so.
“Can I still make you feel good?” I sat beside her, brushing a hair off her pretty face. “Even when you’re pregnant? I promise I’ll be gentle.” I wasn’t planning on fucking her. I still wasn’t sure about my ability to control myself. I simply wanted to lick her. Taste her. Familiarize myself with her perfect body…again.
“Carter, please touch me,” she murmured. And I did. I ducked my head down, under the sheets, and slid her knickers down inch by inch, savoring every second like it was my last meal on this earth.
My whole body throbbed with something unfamiliar. Not just lust, no. I’ve tasted lust on my tongue and came to be quite smitten with the feeling. But something else entirely, and it consumed me to the point of madness.
My mouth watered, thirsty for her skin, when my lips felt the soft lips of her pussy. I could feel her pulse against my tongue as I tasted her carefully. My hands shook as I placed them on her inner thighs, pinning her down to the mattress.
I tasted.
Licked.
Gulped.
Loved.
I loved her in that moment. The realization was like a punch to the stomach. I never knew what love felt like. It was elusive, fragile, something only seen in movies.
“Yes, Carter, please. Fuck me,” she moaned over and over again. I knew what she needed, and it was more than my tongue, but I was too scared to hurt her, to hurt our baby. “Yes. Yes. I love you, Carter. I love you so much. I love you.” The words fell from her mouth like sweet poison, killing and reviving me at the very same time. I didn’t deserve to be loved, and I knew it, but still, here I was. Loved.
By the woman I loved back, no less.
Life could be funny like that.
Her eyes opened, filled with terror at the realization of what she’d said.
“Oh my God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. It just slipped out.”
I almost laughed, but it wasn’t funny. My lack of ability to accept love and compassion.
