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“Very sure.”
I’m not, but I don’t have the evidence to back it up. “You love him. He’s the best guy you know. What’s the rush to figure it out?”
She turns to the window. Stares at the bright blue sky. “I don’t know. Maybe… I do have time.”
“How much?”
“Not enough.”
“Is it ever?”
She nods. “No, it’s not.” She presses her palms into her thighs. “I… uh… Wes is a good guy too. More obnoxious, but still sweet.”
“He is.”
“Are you guys?” She clears her throat. “Are you serious?”
“That’s a good question.” I bite my lip. “I don’t have enough time to figure it out either.”
“Yeah.” She nods. “Just don’t try to find the answer in tequila.”
I laugh. “Good to know.”
“Or wine or gin or vodka—”
“I get what you mean.”
She stares at her to-go cup. “Thanks Quinn, but I think I need a little—”
“Sure. I hope I’ll see you later.”
“You too.” Her smile is slight, but I still feel it.
I have friends. Yeah, they’re as bad at sorting out their lives as I am, but that’s kind of perfect too.
We’re all a little dysfunctional.
We belong together.
I finish my English Breakfast on the elevator ride to our floor, but the caffeine does nothing to ease my exhaustion.
I’m ready to collapse.
To climb into our plush bed, nestle next to Wes, dissolve between his arms.
But he isn’t in bed.
He’s in the bathroom.
In the shower.
With the door wide open.
He pulls the glass door open and motions come here.
And, somehow, all my exhaustion slips away.
Chapter Fifty
Wes
My thoughts dissolve the second Quinn presses the door shut.
Her eyes lock with mine as she steps out of her shoes, shimmies out of her sundress, does away with her bra.
She pushes her panties off her hips.
She’s standing in the bathroom naked.
It’s not the first time, but it’s every bit as thrilling.
More.
It’s obvious now.
I need her.
I really fucking need her.
Griffin marrying his childhood best friend, Quinn’s plane leaving tomorrow, my plans for tonight—
None of that matters as much as this moment.
As her body against mine.
I hold out my hand.
Her fingers brush my skin. Then it’s her palm against mine.
She holds on tightly as she steps into the shower.
Water pounds the back of her head. Drips down her hair, neck, shoulders, chest.
She laughs as she pushes her wet hair out of her eyes.
Fuck, she looks beautiful like this. She always looks beautiful, but there’s something about the intimacy of this tiny space.
For once, I want that with no ifs, ands, or buts.
I want Quinn closer.
Period.
The end.
“Is Griffin okay?” She wraps one arm around my waist.
“He will be.” His situation is a mess at the moment, but he’ll figure it out. He always does.
I want to help. I do.
But, for once, I get that it’s out of my hands.
He has to realize how he feels.
No one can do it for him.
“Is Juliette?” I bring my hand to Quinn’s cheek. Rub her temple with my thumb.
She nods. “Yeah. Well, I think it’s the same. She will be.”
Will you? I want to ask her, but not now. Not yet. I need this moment with her.
I thought I liked fucking other women, but that was nothing compared to Quinn.
Being inside her is heaven.
“Wes.” Her gasp dissolves in the water. She digs her fingers into my side as my hard-on brushes her stomach. “Already?”
“Yeah.” I run my digit over her skin. She’s already slick from the shower. There’s something about that featherlight friction. Something that sets every one of my nerves on fire. “That’s what you do to me, angel.”
She looks up at me with those big, hazel eyes. “I’m not sure if I have the balance.”
I can’t help but laugh.
Her brow knits for a second, then it eases. Her lips curl into a smile. “You thought I’d stop being awkward now that I popped my cherry?”
I shake my head. “Didn’t think you’d say ‘popped my cherry.'”
“How should I describe it?”
“You tell me.” I bring my hand to the back of her head. Press my lips to hers.
She kisses back hard.
Her lips part.
My tongue slips into her mouth.
We’re both wet and slick. There’s less friction than usual. But I can still feel all her lust.
I still don’t understand everything she needs when we’re dressed.
But this?
I’ve fucking got this.
“I think”—she digs her fingers into my skin—”I was thoroughly fucked.”
“For the first time?”
She nods. “Are we focusing on that?”
“Yeah.”
“Wes Keating took my virginity.” She shifts her hips, pressing her body against mine.
My cock brushes her stomach.
Fuck, the feeling of her slick skin against my flesh—
“Wes Keating ruined me for other men.” She brings her other hand to my hip. “How is that?”
Fucking amazing. “Is it true?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Her eyelids flutter closed.
Mine follow.
Our lips connect.
It’s slow.
Then harder.
I lead.
She follows.
My tongue dances with hers. My hands go to her hips. My groans vibrate down her throat.
I pin her to the wall. Slip my hand between her legs. Stroke her with my thumb.
