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But whatever his history, I need him to know that he’s all I want. All I need.
Reaching for the hem of my T-shirt, I pull it over my head and toss it behind me. I’m now totally naked and exposed in front of him. This is the only way I can show him that I need him and only him.
“Touch me,” I boldly whisper, reaching for his hand and drawing it up to my bare breast.
My nipple hardens the instant his warm fingers encircle my flesh, and after the fucked-up night we’ve just had, it’s nice to feel this one simple act of passion and honesty.
I remain still as he rolls his thumb over my nipple before his large palm cups my breast in one hand. He then lowers his lips and pulls at my nipple.
An unrefined groan echoes in my throat because it feels so damn good.
Arching backward, I thrust my chest forward, pushing more of myself into his mouth. My hips begin moving of their own accord, needing the delicious friction I feel from his growing erection. The moment my breast pops free, he cups the back of my neck and pulls me down to meet his eager, sinful lips.
We kiss like starved creatures, and the moment I draw his lip ring into my mouth, I know we’ve crossed the line of no return.
He reaches between us and begins running his fingers along my sex. I moan and buck forward, needing more.
I want him more than I’ve ever wanted him before, and I think back to my idea of what I wanted to give him for Christmas. The gift isn’t much, but it’s the only thing I can offer him that isn’t stained and remains untainted by my past.
And that gift is me.
The moment his finger enters me, a guttural moan resonates in my chest, and Quinn’s animalistic growl has my entire body undulating in desire and need.
But I need more, and I make that clear as I reach down between us, freeing his erection from the confines of his boxers.
“Make love to me,” I whisper, biting my lip when I hear him hiss in response to my words.
However, he surprises me by sadly confessing, “I don’t know how.”
That’s not entirely true as I’ve seen him.
I’ve caught him in the act, and although nothing was loving about it, he engaged in the deed with much passion and enthusiasm.
“But I’ve…seen you,” I say, hating to taint this moment with that vulgar memory.
Quinn shakes his head. “Nothing about that involved love.”
I don’t understand what he’s telling me.
“Red, I’ve…fucked plenty of girls.” I cringe at not only the word but also the visual. “But making love,” he continues. “That’s totally uncharted waters for me.”
What is he telling me? Has he never been in love?
“And you’re not ready,” he concludes, removing his finger.
How does he know if I’m ready or not?
Enraged, I reach for his hand and place it back between my legs. “I beg to differ.”
He hisses but draws his hand away again because he’s just as stubborn as I am.
“I don’t mean that. I mean in here.” He touches my temple.
Deep down, I know he’s right, but I can’t help but think he isn’t ready, either.
I bite my lip, feeling stupid, vulnerable, and shy. I also feel slightly rejected. This isn’t the first time Quinn has said no, and it’s a blow to a girl’s ego.
“If you don’t want me, just tell me.”
