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I shake my head and throw my arm over my face. “Nothing.”
He moves my arm. “Look at me.”
I open my eyes to see his beautiful blue ones staring down at me, the light from the moon bathing his pale skin.
I reach up and run my hand over his beard. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect.”
“Then why are you crying?” he asks gently.
Pursing my lips, I say, “I actually don’t know. Maybe because that was the best orgasm I ever had in my life?”
He smiles. “You mean to tell me, all this time, all I had to do was sayI love youduring sex and it would have made you come?”
I think back to the moment and nod, chewing my lip. “I guess so!”
He chuckles. “Unbelievable. I wonder if it’ll work all the time? We’re at work and I pop my head into your office. ‘I love you!’ and you come right on your seat. Or maybe when we are at a social event. I’ll whisper it in your ear and you’ll gush right there.”
I smack his chest. “You’re a silly fox.”
“Have you ever seen that movie where the guy has the remote control to a vibrator in her pussy and he controls it while they’re in public?”
“Oh yeah, I did see that. You wouldn’t dare.”
He laughs. “I would. It’s more of a soft punishment thing.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a really harsh discipline.” I laugh.
He gets off the bed and pulls me into the bathroom, starting the faucet on the enormous jetted tub. Once the temperature is right, he throws in a bath bomb, and it begins to fill with bubbles. I enter the private toilet and close the door while I listen to him humming. It makes me smile. Lincoln Silverstone is nothing like I thought he would be. Stuffy, uptight, with a proverbial stick up his ass.
No, he’s loving, attentive, caring, and deliciously domineering (that part I actually thought he might be). I like to think I had a part in that.
When I emerge from the toilet, he’s already in the tub, two candles lit on the windowsill above it. He holds out his arms, and I slide into the bath, my back to his chest as he wraps his arms around me.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my entire life. I don’t ever want this to end.
“I love you,” he says, and I’ll never get tired of hearing it.
“I love you more,” I reply, craning my neck up to look at him.
He stares at me for a long while and I just smile up at him. His lips twitch like he wants to say something.
“What is it?” I ask.
He pauses, then whispers, “Move in with me, Quinn.”
I gasp.
***
“What are you gonna do with your house?” my sister asks the next day as I’m in my kitchen cleaning and talking to her on speakerphone.
“I don’t know. Linc wants me to keep it and rent it, but renters can be iffy,” I say.
“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Macy says. “Remember those people we had livin’ next door to us when we rented that house after high school?”
“Of course, the Wyatt brothers. Good Lord, were they pigs.” I shake my head as I spray 409 on my countertops with my gloved hands.
“Such pigs, which is an insult to pigs,” she replies, laughing.
