Page 66 of Protecting the Nerd

I pushed back slightly from his embrace and looked up at him, not caring that my emotions would show in my eyes and on my face. “Will you take me to bed, Quillon?”

It wasn’t just about physical need, though that was undeniable. It was about wanting to be close, to feel that connection that surpassed anything I’d ever experienced. It was about the desire for intimacy, for the vulnerability and trust it entailed, a gravitational pull too strong to resist.

Quillon hesitated, and I could almost see the gears turning behind his thoughtful gaze, the way he considered my request. Something shifted. A subtle release of breath, a softening around his eyes as if he’d found the answer or at least an explanation that assured him I was asking for the right reasons.

“York, are you sure?” Those four words held a depth of emotion, a silent echo of the care and intensity I’d come to associate with him.

“Surer than I’ve ever been about anything,” I replied, my voice gaining strength.

A moment passed, and then another, but finally, Quillon’s lips met mine with a gentleness that wrapped around me like an embrace and ignited my senses as if every nerve ending had been dormant until this very moment. I absorbed him, the bitter taste of coffee on his tongue, the lingering scent of his cologne, the citrusy smell of his shampoo. Everything else faded.

He took my lips with more greediness, surging into my mouth with his tongue, chasing me until I surrendered. His hands found my ass again, fondling and caressing, squeezing and massaging. I slipped mine under his shirt.

“Quillon,” I said between kisses, grappling for purchase on the planes of his back, his muscles rippling beneath his shirt. He answered without words by delving his tongue deeper, engaging in a dance as old as time yet as fresh and exhilarating as if we’d invented the act.

My fingers itched to explore further, to chart the landscape of his sleek body. A small tug on the hem was enough to make him step back and whip the shirt over his head. We stood naked chest against naked chest, and my nipples hardened against his rough hair, which felt amazing.

How could I have thought I was straight all this time when I wanted nothing more than to get my hands on this man? He was six foot two of perfection with those moss-green eyes that saw everything, those straight pearly whites with the little gap between his front teeth, those miles and miles of skin, and those sinewy muscles of sleek sexiness. Everything about him was masculine, and I’d never wanted anyone more.

Driven by an urgency that seemed to mirror the pounding of our hearts, we stumbled toward the staircase. I bumped into a doorframe. He tripped over a rug. We kissed on every step of the stairs, unwilling to let go of each other long enough to hurry. Time held no meaning when every second was consumed by the taste, the touch, the intoxicating presence of him. The hunger, raw and insistent, demanded to be sated yet deepened with each kiss, each caress, each stroke.

“Nerdy,” Quillon murmured against my neck, and shivers cascaded down my spine. “You feel so fucking perfect in my arms.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I whispered. Was that husky voice mine?

Our ascent was a blur of movements—hands roaming, tugging at fabric. Soft sighs and moans punctuated the air. Every brush of skin against skin felt like a revelation, each discovery a piece of a puzzle I hadn’t known was incomplete until Quillon came along.

We stumbled into my bedroom. Our bedroom. Between kisses, Quillon explored with deliberate care. His touch ignited a trail of fire along my skin. His hands, calloused yet astonishingly gentle, traced the waistband of my boxer briefs like he was teasing me to unveil a treasure.

My cock was rock hard and leaking for him, ready for him. But when he dragged my underwear down, he barely touched it, and I mewled out of protest. He nipped at my bottom lip. “Be patience, nerdy. I’m gonna take my time with you.”

He kissed me again, roughly invading my mouth with his tongue as he held a hand tightly around my neck. He had a touch of dominance in bed, a way of taking charge and having me submit to his lead, and I loved it. I trusted him like I had never trusted anyone else.

The deep, passionate kiss sent shivers up my spine. He guided me onto the bed, and I stretched out on my back, not hesitating to subject myself to his perusal. Laid bare before him, I saw a hunger in his moss-green eyes so intense it seared straight through to my soul.

With considerably less finesse and more speed, Quillon stripped himself of his remaining clothes. As he stood there, gloriously naked, I let my gaze roam over his body, drinking in every detail—the ripple of his abs, the curve of his hips meeting his thighs, the powerful lines of his shoulders. Desire pooled hot within me, and the same emotion was reflected on his face. The man looked like he wanted to feast on me, and I was all on board with that. Every inch of my skin ached for his touch.

He stretched out next to me, and our mouths met again as if pulled toward each other by an irresistible force. After a thorough exploration of my tonsils, he moved farther south, trailing his hands over my skin, igniting trails of heat. He induced a constellation of sensations across my body as he mapped every crevice and plane with a deliberation that was both tender and torturous. His lips followed, blazing a trail of fire that threatened to consume me.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmured against the shell of my ear, his breath hot and heavy with promise.

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“I doubt there’s anything you could do to me that I wouldn’t love…”

Quillon’s eyes, those deep pools of moss green, seemed to absorb my confession, understanding the complexities of my mind as easily as he navigated the contours of my body. With a nod, he lowered his mouth again, this time to the sensitive skin below my collarbone.

He was driving me crazy, yet I couldn’t get enough. “Will you fuck me? Please?”

He stopped and pushed himself up. “We don’t have to?—”

“I want to. I want to feel you inside me.”

He groaned as if he were in pain. “I want that too, nerdy, but only if you’re sure.”

“There’s lube in the drawer. Do we need condoms?” We might as well get that out of the way. “I haven’t had sex since my last test, and I was negative.”

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