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She brought the remaining dishes from the table to the sink and took a moment to watch him load the dishwasher. What was it about a gorgeous man doing housework?
“In a bout of distraction, I think I may have agreed to help out.” She frowned. “Remember how you said Roxie has a grand master plan for asking you things when you’re not exactly paying attention?”
“Yeah?”
Standing next to him, she leaned back against the counter. “I think you may be onto something.”
“You know what I think?” He shut off the water, then dried his hands on a towel, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I think the rest of the dishes can wait until tomorrow. What do you think?”
Before she could blink, he hauled her close. His head dipped, and he trailed kisses along her neck.
All thoughts vanished. All she could do was feel.
His soft lips.
His strong hands.
His hard body.
Her eyes drifted shut, and she tilted her head, giving him more access. She ran her hands up his muscular back and laced her fingers behind his neck. Tugging him closer, she enjoyed the sparks his talented mouth detonated along her skin.
Her eyes flew open when he hoisted her onto the counter. She spread her thighs and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking him back to her. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing his hips flush against her, the fire that burned in his gray eyes raged into an inferno.
His lips crashed into hers, and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped. Tingles shot from the top of her spine down to her toes as they devoured each other.
When they came up for air, Quinn lifted her from the counter. She locked her ankles at his lower back and glued herself to his chest. His heart thumped hard against hers, its racing beat matching her own.
His hands cradled her ass as he walked them into the living room. He came to a stop in front of the couch, and she drew slightly away. Their breaths were ragged. The evidence of his desire pressed into her, and she rocked her hips against his hard length. His eyes blazed for her.Her.
She knew that if she asked him to stop, he would. No questions asked. And he wouldn’t be mad. Frustrated, perhaps, but not mad.
Quinn would never hurt her the way Preston had. Ever.
Yes, things were beyond complicated, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she could trust him. Her body, her heart, her very soul—all were safe with this man.
With her legs still wrapped around him, she placed her hands on either side of his jaw, caressing the stubble there and running a thumb over his delicious lips. She studied his face, and only one word remained in her brain.
Mine.
Gone was the doubt. Gone was the chaos. Gone was the fear.
All that remained was him.
Quinn.
He was passion, sweetness, and trust. He was hope.
She brought her mouth to his, licking at his lower lip. While their tongues tangled and explored, she tried to show him in one kiss how much he’d come to mean to her.
With a moan, he lowered her onto the couch and lay over her, his arms supporting his weight. His hands roamed her body, setting off tiny explosions everywhere he touched. She pushed off his corduroy shirt and tugged up his T-shirt, the desperation to feel his bare skin on hers overwhelming.
“Quinn, I need you so much,” she murmured.
Every touch, every kiss thrilled her. She’d never experienced this kind of hunger before. And yet, she wanted more. She wanted it all.
She wanted him.
Shifting his weight to one arm, he slipped his free hand under her shirt, and she drew in a sharp breath. Her core throbbed with need, desperate for what she hoped was to come. He stroked from the base of her neck to the band of the jogging shorts she wore, caressing and exploring every inch of her skin in between.
