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“It’s a shame.”
“No, it’s not. It’s wild.”
“Exactly.” He sinks his fingers into my hair, fisting unruly curls between his fingers. “It’s wild and gorgeous, and it looks sexy as hell.”
My throat bobs as he just looks at me like he can’t get enough of me.
My hair has been described in a lot of ways, but nobody ever said it looked gorgeous. Well, except Kiara, but she’s my best friend, so she can’t say anything different.
“I told you, I don’t wear it like this. It’s hideous.”
“There’s nothing hideous about it. Don’t you get tired of always straightening it?”
I do. I won’t say I hate it because I don’t. But are there days when I’m tired or simply not in the mood to do it, yet I still do? Yes. Plenty of them. But I’m just too worried about people not looking at me the same way if I were to walk around with a head full of crazy curls.
“Ness?” Quinn caresses my cheek, bringing me back to the present.
“I…” I clear my throat. “I tried hiding it when I was younger. So the habit just kind of stuck. I’ve heard so many people comment on my appearance. On my olive skin and dark curly hair. They didn’t see a little girl who was born in the States; they saw a child of two immigrants.”
“I’m so sorry, Vanessa.”
I look away, blinking away the tears. I figured I overcame this weakness, but I guess I was wrong. “Me too.”
I’m sorry for letting my fear hold me back for so long. For giving other people so much influence over me, letting them dictate even this small part of my life. For letting John do it.
It felt wrong. Thinking about him when I was in bed with Quinn like this, but I couldn’t not notice the differences between the two men. There was that one time when John came over late. I was just halfway through styling my hair, and he just looked at me for a long moment before he said it’s better that I’m straightening my hair because it looks ugly naturally.
Not Quinn, though.
“They were the ones in the wrong.” Quinn slips his finger under my chin and turns me to face him. “They didn’t deserve you.”
“No, they didn’t.”
He brushes his lips against my temple. “You can do whatever you want with it, but you shouldn’t need to hide who you are because of some assholes.” My cheek. “You’re beautiful, Vanessa Dawson.” The corner of my mouth. “You’re beautiful just the way you are.”
My traitorous heart does a little flutter at his words, my palms turning clammy with nerves.
Damn you, Quinn McLannister, for unnerving me like this. Damn you for making me want more.
How could there be more when we’re so fundamentally different?
Or are you?a little voice asks me.
I shake my head, pushing the thought away. I can’t go there. I won’t.
“You are,” Quinn counters, probably thinking I’m shaking my head at his words. I don’t correct him. Instead, I close the distance between us, pressing my mouth against his.
I don’t hold back as I kiss him. My mouth swipes over his before nibbling at his lower lip. He groans, his fingers tightening in my hair and pulling me closer as my tongue slips between his parted lips. Swirling, sucking, tasting until my head starts spinning.
We break the kiss, Quinn’s mouth tracing my body with soft kisses. He cups my breasts, his mouth sucking and licking my nipples before he makes his way down to my pussy.
My legs fall apart, and he settles between them, his eyes meeting mine as he makes the first, slow lick between my lower lips, a jolt of energy going straight to my core and making my legs quake.
Holy shit.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to a man worshiping me so thoughtfully that my body melts. But that’s exactly what having Quinn’s mouth on me does.
“Quinn…” I breathe in protest, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
