“And talking.” He rocked back on his boots and tipped his hat back. “Or not talking.”
“Quint.”
“Nothing more. I swear. Cross my heart.” With his index finger he made an X on his chest. “I have a couple of pillows to prop your cast up on. So your arm doesn’t hurt.” His smile broadened.
“Were you eavesdropping on me?”
“Who me?” He patted his chest and rounded out his eyes all innocent-like.
“Now you’re mocking me.” Gillian couldn’t help but smile.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Quint held out his hand to her. “Sit?”
He helped her get comfortable, stacked a couple of pillows up for her cast and poured her a glass of wine before he joined her on the blanket.
“Cheers.” He held his glass up.
Gillian clinked her glass to his. “Cheers.”
Townsfolk milled about for a few minutes until the mayor announced the show would begin soon.
“Would you believe this is my first time ever watching fireworks?”
Quint paused while tossing a piece of popcorn in the air. The kernel bounced off his forehead. “Are you serious?”
Maybe it was the wine or maybe just the fact that when she was with Quint but a comfort she’d never known before washed over her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to someone. To unburden herself. She’d confided in Manny, but only about what made them leave, not what made her tick. No one had heard that story. Explaining her lack of pyrotechnic gazing was an easy one though. “Growing up, it just wasn’t something we did. It was just my mom, my sister and I. As I told you before, dad was gone early on. When we spent time together—if we had time together—we’d always end up just talking and never get anything done.”
Gillian ran her finger around the edge of the wine glass, remembering. The Harwood women had many a late night talking about anything and everything. God, how she missed her mom and Becca. “Then once Heidi got here—” she shrugged, “—I never had time for much of anything.”
“With your mom and sister both gone—” he shook his head, “—is it hard? Raising Heidi all alone?”
“Yes and no.” She took a long drink from her glass. “I don’t really have anything to compare it to. It’s had its bright spots and its difficult moments.” One in particular that she didn’t think she’d ever get out from under.
“That’s rough.”
“You have no idea,” she said under her breath. “What about you? I know Bonnie and Zan are close by. Do you miss not having other family around here?”
Quint leaned back on his elbows and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Thank God, no.”
Gillian jumped at the first explosion in the sky. Green and blue light shimmied over Quint’s face.
“Why don’t you get along with your dad?” She scooted closer to him to hear over all of the noise. “Are y’all too different?
She saw rather than heard his huge sigh as his chest rose and fell highlighted with the neon flash of light.
“It’s not that. I got tired of letting my dad down.”
“I can’t believe that.” She frowned. “How could you have let him down? You’re the most conscientious, selfless person I’ve met.”
“You don’t know my dad.” He tilted his head toward her. “Or maybe you do. Jeffery Walters.”
Gillian shook her head and shrugged.
“From the Texas Rangers and—”
“Like Chuck Norris?”
His teeth flashed white with a quick grin. “No, like baseball. He played for the Rangers for a bit. But he spent most of his career with the San Diego Padres.”
“Gotcha.” She wished he smiled more when he spoke of his father. Instead, his mouth turned down and his eyes squinted around the edges. “But you followed in his footsteps, playing ball.”
“For all of five minutes.” Quint frowned. “How did we start talking about me?”
Gillian shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth and shrugged.
“You’re not going to tell me anything are you, despite my magnanimous offer to listen?”
“Uh-uh.”
“I should just sit back and watch the fireworks.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Pass the popcorn, please.”
Gillian set the bowl between them. The pair ate in silence and watched the show. When the bowl was halfway empty, they both went in and their hands tangled.
Quint didn’t let go. He pulled her hand up to his mouth and stuck her index finger between his lips. “Mmm. Salty.”
Gillian closed her eyes.
The man did things to her. Things she never thought she’d experience—maybe not never, but someday in the distant future when Heidi was grown and on her own, assuming they could get from under the trouble they were in… With Quint however, she lost fear, lost inhibitions she’d developed early on. She could breathe and tension eased from every fiber of her being. She was so relaxed, she shifted and her cast slid off the pile of pillows and hit on the hard-packed ground under the blanket.
“Ow.” Her eyes shot open and she ripped her hand from his to cradle her throbbing arm.
Quint sat up. “You okay?”
“Hurts.” Tears welled up.
“Take a deep breath. Now another.” He rubbed her back. “You want me to walk you home?”
She nodded. Quint helped her stand. Colors danced across the sky as they wended through the seated crowd. She should go back and sit, watch the show. The pain would subside, but so many emotions raged through her she needed the quiet of the house to think. To digest the way Quint stirred the want in her.
They walked the few short blocks back to the house in silence. By the time they pushed through the front door, the pain had in fact subsided and guilt took its place.
“I’m so sorry.” Gillian stood in the doorway.
“For?”
“Making you miss the rest of the show.”
Quint tucked a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You should go on back. Catch the end.”
He removed his cowboy hat and scuffed his fingers through his hair. “I like where I am right now just fine.”
Chapter Twelve
Gillian stared at him for a long moment. Her heart hammered so hard it rang in her ears. Indecision danced all through her. Without time to talk herself out of it, she shoved the door open wider. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thought I’d have to stand out here all night, mooning away.”
Gillian snorted. “Like you’ve ever mooned over a woman.”
“I could moon.” He tossed the hat onto the end table. “I’ve just never had cause to. Before now.”
She led him into the middle of the living room. “I never know when you’re being for real and when you’re trying for charming.”
Quint tilted his head to the side. “Maybe they’re one and the same.”
She nodded. “Charming.” She crossed the room toward the kitchen. “Can I get you something?”
“No. Sit. I should be asking you that.” He motioned her over to the sofa.
He settled his hand at the small of her back and guided her across the room. Then he fluffed up two pillows for her cast and—with a smile—ordered her to “park it”. Her cheeks heated as she sat.
Quint crouched in front of her. “Is the pain unbearable?” He lifted the cast in his hands, ran his thumb carefully over the backs of her fingers just peeking out from the end. “It doesn’t look swollen. You want me to call Dr. Hambert?”
“No, actually it’s feeling better.” Gillian ducked her head. “I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Why? That’s good.”
She looked up and held his gaze. “I feel bad for making you leave the fireworks.”
He chuckled. “There’s plenty of sparks going on right here.” He released her cast and set his hands on either side of her on the sofa. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips.
Gi
llian savored the moment. Wanted not to forget a single moment spent with Quint. She was afraid it might end far too soon. She committed the touch of his lips to hers to memory for those dark and lonely nights yet to come. She ran her fingers through his hair, desperately wanting to let the softness lull her into complacency. Too many thoughts, though, danced around her head. Not the least of which was her self-appointed rival. She pulled back. “What about Ruby?”
Quint shifted to sit next to her on the sofa and took her face in his hands. “Gillian, I swear to you, there is no other woman in my life. And hasn’t been for a very long time.”
And he hadn’t cared one way or the other about his lack of companionship until Gillian came crashing into his world. She made him think things, made him contemplate the future. What he wanted to be when he grew—hell, if he wanted to grow up.
It was odd that his father had harped on him to make decisions and make “plans” for the future. All it took was one lost soul accidentally thrust into his life that helped put things into perspective, and to know it was time that he took charge of what he wanted. Unfortunately, his dad still wouldn’t be happy with anything he might come up with. It wasn’t his plan. Top of the “to do” list though was to figure out how and where Gillian Harwood fit into everything.
Gillian frowned up at him. “You look so serious.”
Quint held her gaze as he slid his hands into her hair. “You are so damn beautiful.” A blush crossed her cheeks and crawled down her neck. It was sexy and powerful all at the same time—to know she reacted so…so…much to him.
And it was mutual. There were so many things he wanted to say to her—so many things she made him want to say—but all he could think of as he settled his lips on her ear was, “I have wanted you since you ran me over.”
“I did not…” Gillian trailed off in a whimper as his teeth nipped the tender lobe. “I didn’t mean to run you over.”
“Semantics.” He needed to feel her. He slipped his hand up under her shirt, flattened his palm on her back.
“Do you always get what you want?” Gillian settled the clunky cast on his shoulder, wrapped her other arm around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.
The long, intense kiss made him momentarily forget the question she asked. “Do I get what I want? When I’m lucky,” he said against her mouth.
“Are you feeling lucky?” She snuggled closer to him.
Quint scooped up her legs and draped them across his own. “When I’m with you? Always.”
Her breath tickled when she sighed against his throat. He shifted, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in his jeans.
It didn’t work.
Especially when she wriggled her ass against his erection.
The pressure that built inside him was so intense, to the point of painful—a good painful—but painful nonetheless. “We need to get more comfortable.” He leaned her back until she lay under him on the small sofa. He wedged himself between her thighs, and settled against her warmth.
Quint loosened his grip slightly and stoked her thigh in slow, meandering strokes, stopping just at the edge of her shorts.
Every second, every kiss he expected her to call a halt to it. Not that he wanted her to, but he sensed wariness in her, almost inexperience. Which was silly. She was well into adulthood. And had a child for goodness sake. It was an innocence, though, that added to her appeal. She had no pretenses. She didn’t push or rush; she let him take charge even though she set the pace.
The whine and pop of the fireworks outside played an eerily similar soundtrack to the one going off in his head as he shifted his hand beneath her and kneaded her supple, round—spectacular—ass.
She was perfect. Soft where she needed to be soft, curvy in places that set his pulse to racing for more, to explore the parts hidden by clothing. It took every ounce of will not to strip Gillian bare then plunder her right there on the sofa.
He moaned as she deepened the kiss and let his tongue in to mingle with hers. She was so sweet, so warm, it set every part of him on fire.
Heat pooled in her stomach and worked out in every direction while he kissed her senseless. Thoughts of wanting his hands elsewhere, unencumbered by clothing, tumbled through her.
Gillian reached for the buttons on his shirt. Instead she grazed his ear and clunked his shoulder. “Damn cast.” She flopped her head back and tears threatened the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry.” For smacking him with her cast. For not knowing what to do. Every new emotion swirled through her, fought with the fear and trepidation of going where she’d never been before.
“It’s okay, darlin’.” He sat up and yanked the shirt over his head, forgoing the buttons altogether.
God, he was beautiful. She’d seen him shirtless during the rainstorm, but she’d been otherwise preoccupied with the electricity shooting at them from the sky. He was all tan skin and not an ounce of flab. Sandy blond hairs covered his well-sculpted chest. She ran her fingers from his neck down to his waist and back. Too tempted, she leaned up and licked his collar bone. Salty and musky.
Quint groaned and slid his hand under her shirt to cup her breast. He ran his thumb across the tight peak coved in lace. When she looked up at him, he said, “If you want me to stop, say so. But soon, before I combust.”
Instead of complaining or pushing him away, she covered his hand with hers. “Don’t stop.” She slanted her head back and closed her eyes, reveled in the feel of him touching her, caressing her. She’d never in a million years imagined the fire that raced through her. She’d like to think it was from sheer inexperience, but what did she have to compare it to? No man had ever touched her as intimately as Quint Walters.
The fabric of her shirt slid up, but she didn’t dare open her eyes. Not even when he kissed her through the lacy bra. Before she could stop herself, her hips gyrated against him in rhythm to the kisses and the need to be closer to him grew until it hurt. “What are you doing to me?”
He nudged her chin with his lips. “You like?”
She peeled her eyes open and held his gaze. “Very much so.” She turned her face to his and ran her lips greedily against his. She traced the seam of his lips until he opened and let her sweep her tongue up against his. A moan rumbled the back of her throat.
Quint shifted and all but fell off the small sofa. He broke the kiss and stood with her in his arms then walked down the short hallway to the master bedroom and settled her on the middle of the bed. He gave her a pillow to put under the cast. “How’s the arm?”
She gulped. “Fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He cupped her cheek, ran his thumb over her lower lip. “Are you okay with this? Me and you?”
“Um, yes.”
He gave a nervous, nasally laugh. “You don’t sound too convincing.”
“It’s not that.” Gillian wasn’t sure what to say. A few pertinent details had been left out. She sighed. “The thing about Heidi… Once Heidi came along…” She smoothed back his hair from his forehead. How do you tell someone you’ve been lying to them? From the moment you met them. Her hands shook as she debated what to say, how much to say.
Quint leaned forward, set his lips to her to her forehead and kissed her softly. “I can leave.”
It would be the hardest damn thing he’d ever done, but for her, he was willing to go as slow—however maddeningly—as possible.
Gillian stared into his eyes. “No, I want this. I want you. More than I can tell you.”
Quint’s heart pounded as all the blood rushed to his dick and made him harder than he thought feasible.
“I want you too, darlin’.” He coaxed her back onto the pile of pillows. “First order of business, you have too many layers of clothing.” He helped her undress; her cast made it necessary for him to strip her down to all her glorious, creamy skin. He quickly undressed, too and joined her back on the bed.
Her gaze was transfixed on his dick. He’d be damned if it didn’t
swell even more.
“You’re so…big.” She gulped.
How would she take it if he stood on the bed and beat his chest? He wanted to.
Tentatively, she reached and touched the tip. He sucked in a quick breath as all thought fled.
She frowned. “Did I hurt you?”
If Quint wasn’t so damn horny and almost ready to explode he might start to question her past sexual experiences. Did the guys she’d been with just wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am and not give her time to explore and enjoy? Now was not the time to ask. But he’d be damned sure to give her all she needed.
He rolled to his back. “Touch me all you want.”
She ogled him with a mixture of wonder and awe before she wrapped her hand around him. He covered her hand with his and drew it and down his rigid cock. Up and down, and again.
Tension crackled through his nerves. He let her stroke him until he couldn’t take it any longer. He stilled her hand. “Okay, okay, okay.”
“Not good?’
“Too good.” Again he wanted to question her, but another time. He slid his hand over her hip, then eased between her thighs. He swept his fingers across her clit and teased the small bud until her eyes slammed shut and her mouth parted on a shuddered sigh.
He fondled her until she was wet and ready for him. “Almost forgot.” He leaned over the edge of the bed and snapped up his jeans. He dug through his pocket until he found the little foil packet.
“You’re awfully sure of yourself.” Something between anger and hesitation laced her words.
He shook his head. “A habit my daddy impressed upon me in high school. Better to be prepared than staring down the barrel of a shotgun.”
“I…” She chuckled. “I don’t know quite how to respond to that.”
Quint slid the condom on. “No need.” He leaned forward and kissed her deeply, and wedged himself between her thighs. He glided the tip of his cock along the edges of her folds. Back and forth. Until she was writhing against him. He stopped kissing her and watched her as he slid inside her. There was a moment of resistance and her eyes jolted open briefly, but he was so wrapped up in the moment he could have hardly slowed down.
Wrong Turn, Right Cowboy: Paintbrush, Book 2 Page 15