by Lacey Black
A smile spreading across my face as I wet the other washcloth and return to my bedroom. The moment I see her, my heart stops beating in my chest and the smile is wiped off my face. My God, she is without a doubt, the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen. Her blonde hair is a wild, tussled mess and the thin blanket I use in the summer is tangled around her legs. She looks like an angel. An absolutely gorgeous angel lying in my bed. Never have I wanted to forget all about the commitment hang-ups I have and just snuggle up to her and never let her go.
But I know that can’t happen.
Sure, maybe for a night or two, but the new, the shiny, will wear off. All relationships end in pain, which is exactly why I don’t do them. Pain now or pain later, it doesn’t matter. Pain is pain, and it’s inevitable.
That’s why I have to convince Quinn to just enjoy our time together, for as long as we have it. Could be a week or two, maybe a few months if I’m lucky, and then we move on. No harm, no foul.
Only, I’m not sure Quinn is built that way. I can already tell she’s a relationship girl. No doubt a white picket fence, two kids, and a dog kinda woman. Looking for that one person to spend the rest of her life with.
The thought of someone else coming home and receiving her smiles does something funny to my heart.
I push it aside, though. No way am I digging any deeper into whatever the hell that was. The fact remains she’ll move on, probably get married and have some kids—and I’ll do the same—minus the marriage and kids part. I’ll move on. I’ll be fine.
With the warm washcloth in my hand, I head over to my side of the bed, where a beauty sleeps. She barely stirs as I move the blanket and whisper her name. Quinn doesn’t move, just burrows into my pillow. I should probably wake her up, but the sight in front of me has my brain malfunctioning. Instead of doing what is right, I toss the cloth into the hamper and crawl into my bed.
My arm reaches for her and she comes willingly. Quinn nestles into my side, tossing her arm over my chest. Her soft hair tickles my neck, but not enough for me to move it. Instead, I hold her close and close my eyes, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.
This doesn’t feel wrong.
Not at all.
***
Bacon.
I can definitely smell bacon. The rich, maple aroma of my favorite pork product has me wide awake just after seven. I glance around, spying the ball of wrinkled sheets—the very ones I threw off the bed around four, as Quinn climbed on top of me and rode me until I could barely breathe from orgasmic exhaustion.
Speaking of, she’s nowhere in sight, which tells me she’s probably in my kitchen right now, fixing breakfast. That domestic image is wildly appealing, but not the reason I climb out of bed. No, can’t be. It must be my full bladder.
Has to be.
Yet, that doesn’t explain why I’d rather head to the kitchen, find Quinn, and kiss the fuck out of her until she’s ready for round…whatever. I’ve lost track. I force my legs to carry me to the bathroom to take a leak. While washing my hands, I discover one of the new toothbrushes I keep in the bottom vanity drawer sitting on the counter. Used. I grab the brush and examine it, as if it could produce answers to world peace and child hunger, but all I see is a simple brush. One used by a woman who spent the night. No, not the first time, but this feels…different.
After I brush my own teeth and slip on a pair of shorts, I head out to find the source of the amazing smell. What I wasn’t quite expecting is the vision of Quinn that almost brings me to my knees. She’s wearing my T-shirt from last night, which hits mid-thigh. Her long blonde hair is cascading down her back, and her feet are bare. Since when are bare feet so fucking sexy? And my dog is sitting at her feet, his tail wagging against the hardwood as he waits for her to drop some food.
I lean against the counter and watch as she takes the bacon from the oven and sets it on a potholder before grabbing a spatula and removing what looks like French toast from the skillet. She hums along to the tune in her head, and startles when she turns around, seeing me. Jack barks a greeting. “Oh, I didn’t know you were there,” she says, the cutest blush creeping up her neck.
“I figured that much,” I offer with a grin. “Whatcha got there?”
“French toast,” she replies proudly, setting the platter in the middle of the counter, my dog trailing her like a shadow.
While she retrieves the bacon, I fill up a cup of coffee and spy hers sitting just off to the side. With a quick top off, I take our cups to the counter and have a seat in one of the barstools. “Jack, go lay down,” I command. He hangs his head and whines, but heads over to his bed and dramatically flops down. “Black coffee?”
“A splash of milk and one scoop of sugar,” she replies, taking the seat beside me, “But I don’t mind black either.”
I shove a piece of crispy bacon into my mouth and chew. The moment I swallow, I add, “I would have thought you were a latte girl.”
She shrugs, swiping her bacon through the maple syrup on her plate. “I’ll drink those too.”
I take a big bite of French toast, savoring the blend of egg and maple syrup. “This is good,” I tell her, shoveling in a second forkful.
“Thanks,” she replies with a shrug. “Your syrup is amazing.”
“It’s from Canada. I have a friend who moved there a year ago. He sent me that fancy jar shaped like a leaf.” Honestly, I’ve never opened the jar. Hell, I had forgotten I even had it in my cabinet. I’m not much of a sweet breakfast kinda guy, but I’ll admit, her homemade French toast and the Canadian maple syrup hits the spot this morning.
When Quinn has finished her food, she gets up, taking her plate to the sink. “Leave it. I’ll take care of it later.”
“I don’t mind,” she insists, turning on the water to rinse her plate.
I take the last slice of bacon and hold it out toward Jack. His ears perk up as he sits, not moving until given the cue. “Here,” I state. Jack jumps up and scampers over to retrieve the food in my hand, scarfing it down in one bite. Once he’s licked my finger clean of residual bacon grease, I head over to where Quinn stands, enjoying the hell out of the view of her legs as I go. When we’re side by side, I take the fork from her hand and drop it in the sink. “I said I’d get it.”
She sticks out her chin and huffs. “And I said I didn’t mind helping.” When she places her hands on her hips, all I can think about is kissing that defiance off her plump lips.
So I do.
I slide my hands around her waist and settle them on the globes of her ass as my mouth descends to hers. “No panties?” I ask against her sweet mouth, taking the opportunity to slip my tongue inside the moment she answers my question with a “no.”
Having sex with this woman should be the last thing on my mind right now, yet it’s the only thing. Her nails dig into my scalp as she pulls me down to her mouth, her fingers slipping through my hair. I back her against the counter and feast, as if I hadn’t just eaten a plate full of food. I’m famished for her, and only her.
“Fuck,” I grumble, ripping my lips from hers and sucking in a big gulp of oxygen.
“Yes, that. Let’s do that,” she begs, scoring her nails down my chest and across my abs.
“I don’t have a condom with me.”
A look passes through her blue eyes as they meet mine. “I’m on birth control.”
My heart skids to a halt in my chest and my throat becomes dry. I’ve never—and I mean never— gone in without suiting up. Even in high school, when all my friends were slipping in the tip, I refused to risk it. Now, I do everything in my power to make sure I’m in control of the situation and my future. That means I wear a rubber one-hundred-percent of the time.
Yet, there’s something promising in those deep blue orbs that has me reconsidering my stance on protection and willing to risk years of self-discipline and self-respect just to know what her body feels like against mine. It’s a dangerous game. One I’m not sure I’m ready to play.
“I sho
uld grab a condom,” I tell her, running my thumb down her jaw.
Instead of arguing with me, like I expect, I’m surprised when she says, “Then you better hurry up, huh?”
Like someone lit my ass on fire, I take off for my room. Jack thinks it’s time to play and runs to catch up with me. I dive for my nightstand drawer, grabbing two from the half-empty box. When I turn around, I see man’s best friend sitting there, eagerly waiting to join the game. I crouch down and pet his head. “Listen, buddy, I’m gonna need another half hour or so, okay? Then we’ll play outside. Promise.”
At the word outside, Jack barks.
“Yeah, you’re not gonna like me right now, but I promise to give you plenty of attention in a little bit,” I tell him, scratching behind the ears and standing up.
When we get back in the kitchen, I tell Jack to go lay down again, which he grudgingly does. My eyes return to the woman wearing my shirt. Well, actually, I take that back. My shirt is being tossed on the floor. I take her in a bruising kiss, my hands skimming across her hot, naked flesh. Her tits fit tailored in the palm of my hands, her nipples hard and begging to be sucked.
Of course, I oblige. My tongue dances across the hard nubs, causing her to gasp and moan in pleasure. My cock is hard enough to pound nails, and when my hand drifts down to her pussy, I find her wet and ready. I go ahead and slip two fingers inside, just to be sure, and then I spin her around to face the cabinets.
“Hang on tight, angel. This is gonna be a bumpy ride.” I sheath myself in latex and line myself up from behind. I have to squat a little, considering she’s so much shorter than me, but I make it work. The moment she arches back, I press forward, filling her sweet pussy in one thrust.
“Holy ahhhh,” she gasps, turning and glancing at me over her shoulder.
That right there.
That look. It’s part wonder and euphoria mixed with desire and trust.
It’s my undoing.
I’m so very screwed, and I don’t mean the sex.
I mean my heart.
Chapter Fourteen
Quinn
“What’s your plan for today?”
His question startles me, as I didn’t realize he was lying on his bed, waiting. I step all the way out of the bathroom dressed in last night’s clothes. I’ve never completed a walk of shame, and I admit, it’s slightly embarrassing as he sits there and watches me, no doubt noticing my wrinkled shirt, stretched out jeans, and makeup-less face. Not to mention my wet, limp hair from a quick shower.
With Royce.
“Umm, I think first up is to change my clothes and find some underwear,” I tease, referring to the mangled panties I ended up throwing in the trash.
His eyes darken even more as the most wicked smile stretches across his mouth. He sits up and crawls off the bed in this sexy manner that makes my body start to hum. Royce stops directly in front of me. “Don’t wear them on my account,” he whispers, his fingers dancing against my side as he pulls me into his chest.
I swallow hard. “I usually do my grocery shopping on Sundays.”
He seems to think for a few seconds, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s going to offer to go with me. Clearing his throat, he has another suggestion. “Well, how about you do what you need to complete today. Jack and I will be going for a walk later. Maybe we can stop by and say hello.”
I wrap my arms around his waist. “Maybe I’ll cook dinner?” I mean for it to be a suggestion, but for some reason it comes out a question. Probably because I’ve never been this bold before, and it’s something for me to get used to.
His eyes light up. “Dinner? I like dinner,” he replies just before his lips glide across mine. “Do you want me to bring anything?”
“Just Jack.”
Royce snorts. “Oh, you know he’ll be there. I think he likes you better than he likes me anyway,” he says, running a hand through my hair. “Can I give you a ride home?”
Man, not only do I need to do a walk of shame, but he has to take me home too. That or call an Uber, which I’m not keen on. Those apps always scare me. Too many people say their card is charged for trips not taken or food not delivered. I’ll stick to the old-fashioned way and do it myself.
Except in this case.
“Yes, that would be helpful, thank you.” I grab my purse and phone, realizing it died sometime between last night and this morning. “Shoot.”
“Problem?” he asks, leading me out of his bedroom and toward the front door. He stops and puts Jack in his kennel before locking up the house and escorting me to his truck.
“How long do you have to keep him in the kennel?” I ask, as he opens the passenger side door ignoring his original question.
“Actually, I probably won’t keep him in there too much longer. He’s trained well. They recommended it for the first week or two, just to see how he adjusts. He’s out at night and while I’m home. I only put him in there when I’m gone,” he says, closing the door behind me. The cab smells like him, all rich and musky, and is neat and organized.
Just like the owner.
I take in the cabin with fresh eyes. Last night, I could tell it was a great place, but in the light of day, I see it’s well maintained and has great landscaping. I can almost picture Royce—shirtless—while mowing the yard, trimming the shrubs, and watering the plants. It’s not all that unappealing. In fact, it’s a pretty nice image.
He backs out of the driveway and heads in the direction of my place. I start to mentally make a list of things I’ll need from the store, both for dinners throughout the week and for tonight. One of my favorites is salmon with lemon and asparagus with Parmesan cheese, but that doesn’t mean Royce is a fan. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot,” he replies, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Do you like fish and seafood?”
“Love it, why?”
“I was just thinking about dinner tonight. Is there anything you don’t like?” I ask, as he turns down my road.
He pulls his truck in front of my little white house and throws it in park. He turns those hazel eyes my way, looking deep in thought. “Well, let’s see, I’m not a fan of chickpeas, peaches, Funyuns, or grape jelly. Oh, and pumpkin spice.” Royce sticks out his tongue and gags. “That shit’s nasty.”
A bubble of laughter pulls from my throat. “Pumpkin spice is weird. I don’t get the craze. But grape jelly? Really?”
“Strawberry, all the way, baby,” he adds with a wink.
“I spent my entire childhood eating grape jelly and peanut butter sandwiches with Doritos on top.”
He just stares at me from across the cab. “I think I just fell in love with you.”
I know he’s teasing, but tell that to my heart, which kicks up a few hundred beats per second.
“Yes, well, if I’d had known you were this easy to please, I’d have made you a few sandwiches for breakfast.”
Another wolfish grin breaks out across his lips. “Oh, I’m very easy to please.”
Yeah, he’s definitely not talking about food.
Clearing my throat, I reach for the door handle. “Wait, I’ll help you out.”
Royce jumps out of the truck and meets me on the passenger side. With his hands on my hips, he practically lifts me off the seat, depositing me on the ground in front of him. He doesn’t move his hands, as our gazes meet. “Thank you for everything.” My words are just above a whisper and I can feel the heat creeping up my face.
Instead of saying anything right away, he places his hands on the sides of my head and plants his lips on mine. It’s a quick kiss, but still packs quite a punch. “I had a great time.”
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Would you still like to come for dinner?”
Why am I so nervous?
He lifts the corner of his mouth in a smile. “I’d love to. What time would you like Jack and I to arrive?”
“Any time after five? I’ll have dinner ready at six.”
“Sounds perfect,” he says before
kissing me soundly once more. In fact, he does such a thorough job, I’m on the verge of inviting him inside. “I’ll see you around five.”
With one final chaste kiss on my lips, he heads back to his truck, leaving me standing on the sidewalk. My legs feel shaky as I make my way to the door, the weight of his stare heavy on my back. The moment the door is open, I turn and wave, letting him know I’m good. He throws me a smile and wave of his own before starting his truck and driving off. I watch him go, and stand there for a few minutes after his Chevy has disappeared.
Then, I finally step inside.
First thing I do is plug in my phone. It takes a few minutes before it charges enough to turn on, and the moment it does, it practically blows up with texts and voicemail messages.
“Shit,” I mumble, scanning through the dozen messages from my best friend. They start sweet and encouraging, but as the night rolls into early morning, they get progressively more concerned. I had never thought to check my phone while I was with Royce, and now I realize the damage I’ve caused.
I worried my friend.
Hell, I probably even terrified her.
Just thinking of the shoe being on the other foot makes my heart race. If Sabrina had gone home with some guy and I couldn’t get ahold of her, I’d be a little panicked too.
I dial her immediately and hold my breath.
It doesn’t even finish the first ring. “Holy shit, Quinn Michaels. I thought you were lying in a ditch or already sold as a sex slave in Mexico!”
I cringe at her words and the tone of her voice. “I’m so sorry, Rina. My phone died, and I didn’t notice until a little bit ago.”
“You better be sorry, missy. You can’t just disappear like that. I’ve been worried sick!”
Groaning, I lean against the counter and close my eyes. Memories of being pressed against a certain countertop earlier this morning flash through my mind, creating a vivid porno-like parade of naughty recollections.
“What? Are you okay? You just moaned,” Sabrina asks, her voice calming down a few decibels.