Before You Break: Between Breaths

by Christina Lee

  I felt Ella’s tears dripping onto the back of my hands, her gaze fixed solidly on Sebastian’s grave.

  “Thank you, Sebastian,” she whispered. “For bringing Quinn into my life.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ella

  At Quinn’s childhood home, we cooked burgers and ate them on the deck along with the margaritas he’d concocted for us, with salt around the rims. We sat together in a reclining chair, me propped between his legs, looking out at the view together.

  His parent’s property extended into the woods and when you sat back here you felt like you were in a secluded oasis. Even though Quinn grew up lonely in this house, its gardens that were filled with lush hydrangea bushes, dogwood trees, and weeping willows were impressive. Lined along the back of the land were strapping pine trees that acted as a barrier between properties.

  Between us and the outside world. And there was no other place I’d rather be. Maybe tonight could be the beginning of new memories for Quinn. For us. Here. Together.

  Quinn’s mouth swept over mine while the crickets chirped, coyotes howled, and the fireflies lit up the night sky. I licked the salt from his lips and tasted the tequila on his tongue and felt so relaxed and at peace with his arms around me. Protecting me. Keeping my heart safe.

  But he didn’t own me completely. Not yet. Nor I him. Not according to the conditions he had set before he’d made his confession to me. And mine to him.

  But if he wanted to take me right here in this chair, I wouldn’t object.

  He removed the margarita from my hand and set it next to his on the side table. Then he flipped me around so I was facing him, my legs dangling on either side of his thighs.

  “Before we head out in the morning,” he said, nuzzling my chin, “would you mind stopping at my aunt and uncle’s?”

  “I’d love to meet them,” I said, honored that he’d even ask. I knew how much they meant to him and now that he’d begun forgiving himself, maybe he’d let them back into his life.

  He cupped my cheeks and stared deeply into my eyes. I felt a fluttering in my chest, like a hatchling testing its new wings.

  Brushing his thumb against my lips, he said, “Gabriella Abrams?”

  He was distracting me with the lips and the eyes and the breaths, so my voice faltered a bit. “D . . . Daniel Quinn?”

  “I’m in deep. So very deep,” he whispered against my lips and a bolt of lightning shot straight to my core. “With this girl—who rocks my world with her amazing lips and her brilliant mind and her generosity.”

  Now that baby bird was swooping and soaring, thrashing against my rib cage, and bursting out of my chest.

  “I want to be with her.” His hot breath mingled with my own. “I want everything with her.”

  This boy—this man—was asking for the moon and the stars. And I was willing to shoot us straight off the map. And offer him the entire universe.

  “I’m . . .” I cleared my throat trying to swallow the tears that had begun to form there. “I’m in deep, too.”

  He closed his eyes as if savoring my words. His long eyelashes brushed against his cheeks and his full red lips remained perfectly still, waiting on me.

  “With this boy—whose kisses, bravery, and tender heart make me melt. Plus, he’s damn hot and I want him more than I’ve wanted anyone else in my life,” I murmured. He opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on me. “I want everything with him, too.”

  Those were the last words uttered between us for a long passage of time.

  Because all at once he stood up, taking me with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and secured my arms against his neck. His lips claimed mine, his tongue deep in my mouth—probing, penetrating, searching for his everything.

  Sliding open the screen door with one hand, he walked us down the hall. He paused outside his room, which contained a queen-size bed, more lush and firm that the one I slept in at home.

  Propping me against the wall, he flicked his tongue along my jawline and then moved up to my ear, where he pinned the fleshy lobe between his teeth. His body pressed so firmly, his groan reverberated so deeply, that I almost became liquid beneath him.

  His hard bulge drove against my center and a loud moan burst from my throat. I clenched his hair in my fingers and thrust my hips against him. His eyes grew dark—so dark—as overwhelming desire coursed through them.

  He laid me down in his soft sheets and then took his time undressing me. He lifted off my shirt and tugged down the straps of my bra. His tongue stroked my hard buds before pulling each breast into his mouth and sucking gently. My back curved off the bed and my nails bowed against his back.

  The only sound in the room was of our breaths and moans. And whereas we’d always been so vocal before—boldly telling each other what we needed and how much we wanted each other—this time seemed different. Tender. Attentive. Reverent.

  Our silence felt like a necessity as we touched, tasted, discovered, and worshipped.

  His shirt joined mine on the ground and I licked the toned muscles on his chest and tasted the smooth skin on his stomach. He made swift work of unbuttoning his shorts and removing them. He knelt on the bed completely naked before me—allowing my gaze to trail over every ripple, curve, and angle. I slid my fingers down the center of his chest, in awe of how gorgeous he was—inside and out.

  He flicked open the button on my pants and tugged them down, depositing them to the floor. Then he twisted me onto my stomach. I felt exposed to him, just like that first night in the bathroom—the first time I’d felt a flicker of desire for him—and now I wondered if he was thinking about that same moment.

  But I didn’t want to breach our silence—this quiet serenity—to ask him.

  Tonight was too special. Too perfect. Too right.

  He swept my hair to the side and I felt his hot breath in my ear and then on my neck and I quivered in anticipation. He trailed his tongue between my shoulder blades and his hands snaked down to my underwear, outlining the curve of my ass with his fingers. I was hot and throbbing between my legs, sure that my underwear was already soaked.

  His lips slid down the center of my spine and his fingers curved beneath the elastic of my panties as he tugged them down. I squirmed in arousal, muffling my moans into his pillow. Once he’d pulled the material from my legs, he continued kissing downward, while I writhed beneath him.

  Quinn using his mouth and tongue and fingers so intimately was hands down the most sensual thing I’d ever experienced. I was dripping wet for him, thrusting my ass toward him, practically begging for him to take me from behind.

  His fingers slid over my thighs to my stomach and I felt myself trembling beneath his touch. He positioned me onto my knees, his fingers found my sweet spot and I nearly exploded from the contact. While he rubbed my slick center, I felt his head move under my thighs.

  Then all at once his hot tongue swiped against my opening. I groaned loudly and sank to the bed—but he held me up, anchoring me with his forearms.

  I whimpered and moaned as his tongue tunneled inside me and his fingers worked their magic from the front. His tongue mapped circles against my swollen flesh and then moved down to close around my extremely sensitive bud. And that’s when I was driven over the edge.

  Light and heat danced around the corners of my mind, while the world caved in around me. He stilled his lips and clung onto my thighs with I throbbed and panted and quivered.

  As I floated back down he licked me tenderly before finally releasing his hold on me.

  I collapsed onto the bed and then curled onto my side into a tight ball, mumbling incoherently, still throbbing in pleasure. He reached for my chin and stared into my eyes.

  Stroking my slick hair away from my face, he shattered the silence by uttering his first words, in a shaky, almost desperate voice, “Ella . . .”

  “Please, Quinn . . .” I rasped out. “Now.”

  He bent over and picked his shorts off the floor, pulling a condom from his wallet. H
e slid it over his very stiff erection, trembling with need. I turned and raised my hips with eagerness, but still he took his time. He bent down and kissed me, forcing his tongue so deep into my mouth that I gasped for air.

  His eyes were fixed on mine as he pushed his tip in tentatively. The feeling was so intense, so personal that I struggled to keep my tears at bay. Quinn briefly closed his eyes like he couldn’t handle all of the sensations at once.

  When he opened them again he gazed at me in wonder.

  “You feel amazing,” he murmured. “Christ, so incredible.”

  He rocked into me, going deeper before pulling almost all the way back out. He repeated the motion, finding a rhythm that had me writhing with pleasure.

  Having him fill me so completely was incredible. Gratifying. Profound.

  I had fallen so hard for this boy. And I saw the same reflected in his eyes.

  He cradled my head in his hands in an almost-protective gesture right before he plunged inside me again. I brought my legs higher around his waist and his thrusts became harder and deeper. His groans filled the room as he drove into me again and again.

  He leaned down and pulled my breast into mouth, sucking it eagerly. His tongue swirled around my nipple before biting down. That was my tipping point as he sent me skyward again.

  The feeling was beyond words. Beyond colors and lights. It was the sky. The universe.

  A pure and exquisite slice of heaven.

  “Fuck, Ella.” He became still, watching me. Waiting. Marveling.

  And then he drove himself fully inside of me, deep and solid.

  As solid as my bones. As liquid as my veins.

  To the very depths of my core. And maybe even my soul.

  His release came in a breathy and curse-laden chorus.

  He collapsed on top of me and kissed my neck and ear and jaw all while whispering unintelligible words. Tangled together in a sheen of sweat—we lay panting and recovering.

  “You’re so beautiful, Ella,” he said, before gathering me in his arms and kissing me tenderly. “I’ve never had this. . . .” The words escaped him, his throat clogging with emotion.

  As the first tear spilled from my eye, I said, “Me neither.”

  His thumb came up and swiped my cheek. Then he pulled me tightly again him, my back to his front. Our breaths were soft and steady against the stillness of the night.

  “I guess this means you’re all mine,” he breathed against my ear.

  “For as long as you’ll have me,” I mumbled, in the haze of sleep.

  And just as we drifted off into the land of bliss, I heard him whisper, “Forever works for me.”

  Despite this book being a work of fiction, suicide is a very real epidemic in our country. If you need to talk to someone, if only to hear an empathic voice, please consider calling the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First, I want to say how grateful I am for my ten plus years as a clinical social worker, where my experience in child and family therapy taught me a great deal about humanity. I learned about empathy, vulnerability, and the resilience of the human spirit. The thing we all share regardless of our race, gender, or socio-economic status is the need to be loved and to belong. Kindness goes a long way in helping someone keep their dignity. It might actually be a lifeline.

  Thank you to Jane G. for assisting me with hotline details. You are truly one of the most gifted and compassionate people in my former field. And in life.

  Thanks to Greg P. for teaching me the ins and out of college baseball.

  To my rock star agent, Sara Megibow. You are like the voice of reason inside my head.

  To the entire Penguin team, including the art department for my amazing covers, and the savvy publicity team: Erin Galloway and Nina Bocci. To the editing department: Laura Fazio, your keen eye helped make this book so much stronger. I’m so glad to have you in my corner. Special shout-out to Jesse Feldman who helped shape this story from the beginning.

  To my family and friends for your constant unwavering support: I love you.

  To my first readers: Kate, Stina, Lindsay, Deb, and Alina. Thank you for believing in Quinn and Ella’s story.

  To the book bloggers and reviewers out there—there are too many of you to list here. Please just know I appreciate all that you do for the simple love of books. Because when it comes down to it, all of us are first and foremost, readers.

  A special shout-out to The Sub Club ladies for making my debut book tour rock.

  An additional thanks to Neda, Angelica, and Christine for those extra things you did to make my debut launch more special.

  Last, to the readers. Thank you for taking a chance on my books and reaching out to talk to me about them. For an author, there may be no better feeling.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  ALL OF YOU

  Available now from InterMix

  Love was like a loaded gun. You slid your bullet inside the cold metal chamber as a safeguard for the inevitable day that everything went to shit. At the first sign of trouble, you blew your opponent to pieces, long before their finger found the trigger. At least that’s what my mother’s string of failed relationships had taught me.

  I downed the warm beer and scanned the frat party from my armchair perch. The low moans drifting from the next couch over awakened a longing inside me. My best friend, Ella, and her boyfriend were going at it again. Our other friend, Rachel, an even bigger player than me, was in the far corner making out with another university jock. And I wasn’t about to be the only one leaving empty-handed tonight.

  Guys were easy to figure out—at least in the hormonal sense. You needed only appear helpless or horny, and their pants instantly dropped to their ankles. Except none of the guys here tonight appealed to me. Maybe I’d text Rob for a booty call on my way home. He was always good for one, unless he’d already hooked up with someone else.

  My gaze landed on the guy entering the back door through the kitchen. A red baseball cap was slung low on his head and inky black curls escaped beneath it. His arms were muscular, and his charcoal T-shirt hugged his lean chest. He was Grade A Prime Meat and probably knew exactly how to put those full lips to good use.

  I watched as he high-fived one of the guys and then propped his forearm against the counter. His smile was magnetic, and I pictured him using it on me in another five minutes, when he sweet-talked me. I stood up and straightened my shirt so that it revealed more of my cleavage—the little I had—and strode toward the keg with my plastic cup.

  As I drew nearer, I saw how alarmingly gorgeous this guy really was. The one hand fisted in his pocket tugged at his jeans, revealing a small sliver of a taut stomach. The trail of baby-fine hairs leading downward made heat pool low in my stomach.

  I tried catching his eye, but he wasn’t going for it.

  His friend was a different story, though. He practically growled in my direction.

  The friend was cute, too, but paled in comparison to Hot Boy. But maybe his friend was my ticket in. Too bad I wasn’t the type to take on both of them—that might be entertaining.

  Bile scorched the back of my throat. Hell no. Two meant more testosterone, less power. No telling what might happen, even if I thought I was in control. There was a reason I only did one willing guy at a time.

  When I stopped at the keg, I overheard Hot Boy telling a friend that he was moving in the morning. Hopefully not out of state. No matter; I only needed him for tonight. His voice was low and gruff, sending a ripple of satisfaction through me.

  Hot Boy’s friend reached over and grabbed hold of my cup. “Let me help you with that.”

  Hot Boy looked up and our gazes meshed for the first time. Warm chocolate eyes pinned me to my spot. They raked over me once before flitting away, sending my stomach into a free fall.

  He pushed aside the messy bangs hanging in his eyes and resumed his conversation.

  I wanted to run my fingers through those unru
ly curls at the nape of his neck. I made a mental note to do that later, when he was lying on top of me.

  His friend handed my cup back, filled to the brim. Hot Boy didn’t look my way again.

  “Thanks.” I clenched my teeth and worked to keep my lips in a neat, straight line.

  “So, what’s your name?” he asked as he stepped closer. His breath was sour with beer and cigarettes and I knew I could’ve taken him oh-so-easily. As simple as the arch of my eyebrow.

  But I didn’t want him. I wanted Hot Boy. Just for one night.

  “My name’s Avery,” I said, loud enough for Hot Boy to hear.

  Hot Boy only paused at the sound of my voice without looking my way. Damn. Maybe he had a girlfriend, or maybe he was gay. The pretty boys always were.

  “Nice to meet you, Avery. I’m Nate.” His friend slid his hand to my hip, and I considered giving up the hunt and taking him upstairs. But for some reason, I just wasn’t feeling it.

  “I’ll be right back.” I left him swaying unsteadily on his feet.

  I headed back to Ella and Joel, who were still hot and heavy on the couch.

  “I’m going to head home,” I said, close to her ear.

  Ella came up for air. “No prospects tonight?”

  “One.” I glanced over my shoulder to the kitchen. Hot Boy’s friend was still waiting for me. “But I’m not really into it.”

  “Bitch, you’re always into it.” Her lips curved into a devilish grin. “Gonna hook up with Rob tonight instead?”

  “Maybe.” I didn’t want to disappoint her. I was ready for a good time most weekends. And, even though she didn’t really approve, she was ready for all the gritty details the next day. Ella hadn’t gotten me to change my ways in high school, and she wouldn’t now. But if I wasn’t in the mood, I didn’t feel like explaining it to her.

  I looked around for Rachel to say good-bye, but she was already somewhere private with jock boy. Ella went back to ramming her tongue into Joel’s mouth.

  She’d probably felt stranded by Rachel and me too many times to count, so seeing her with Joel actually thawed a corner of my frozen heart. A real live boyfriend was what Ella had always wanted. Someone who got her, she’d said. Whatever the hell that meant.