Page 14 of Bound

“I don’t hate you.” He shakes his head, and his breath wisps over my lips. “I hate having you this close to me. I hate that Conor is fucking infatuated with you. I hate that even though I’m too old for you, I’m also not good enough for you. And most of all, I hate that I can’t do the one thing I really want. The one thing I can’t fucking stop thinking about.”

My breath hitches so hard that I struggle to draw in my next breath. Gazing up at him, my lip quivers as I struggle to find the courage to ask, “What is that?”

“This.” His lips vibrate as they crash against mine, setting my body on fire. There is nothing soft or tender about our kiss. It is messy, passionate and full of the need we have both been harboring. He doesn’t just kiss me. He claims me until I am breathlessly whimpering into his mouth.

Without breaking our kiss, he grips the back of my thighs. His fingers dimple into my flesh as he pulls me around his waist. He carries me through the room until I’m pinned to the wall beside his bed. Holding me to it with his body, the hard length in his pants grinds against my panties as his lips and tongue travelalong the length of my neck. His lips press to my ear, and I can feel him fumbling with his pants as he groans, “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about this.”

“Dec?” I breathlessly moan as he pulls at my panties and aligns himself beneath me. “Wait.”

“What?” He pauses. “Are you not on the pill?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m not.”

Declan pulls me from the wall and places me at the edge of the bed before digging into the nightstand and pulling out a condom. Placing the foil wrapper between his teeth, he tears it open and rolls it over himself with obvious experience.

“I’m not the pill because I’ve never had sex,” I blurt as I shamefully cover my face with my hands.

“Quinn,” Declan barks, climbing over me and pulling my hands from my face. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. And you don’t need to do anything you don’t want to. I’ve waited a long time for this. I can wait a little while longer if that’s what you need.”

I tentatively grip the back of his shirt with my hands and slowly pull it over his head. A slight smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he stares down at me and asks, “Are you sure?”

I nod as Declan dips his head and presses his lips to mine. Unlike before, this kiss is soft and tender as he explores my mouth. “Tell me what you want,”—he languidly kisses the words down my stomach and along my thighs before he removes my skirt and panties—“and I’ll give it to you. I’d give you everything, mo chéadsearc.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DECLAN

“You’re okay.” I continue to brush the sweaty hair from her forehead with my eyes locked on hers. Fixated on the gold flecks nestled in the deep emerald of her eyes, I suddenly feel like the stupid twenty-five-year-old kid who would do anything for her again.

I wipe my thumb over a trickling tear, and she shudders when it slides over the still-fresh, small scar running along her cheekbone. “Don’t.” She sobs when I tenderly drag my finger along it. “It’s a reminder every time I look in the mirror of how weak I am.”

“Nonsense. It’s a reminder of how fucking strong you are. Of how determined you are to live.” I continue to trace my finger along the jagged line. Closing what little distance there is between the two of us, I taste the saltiness of her tears on my lips when I place a soft kiss atop the scar and another on her cheek. My lips a breath from her skin, I promise, “You’re safe now. Iwillprotect you this time.”

“Dec?” Quinn tips her head, dragging my lips along her salty cheek until they are resting beside her mouth. Her breaths growincreasingly fast, and she breathlessly whispers, “Tell me why I shouldn’t do the one thing I want.”

“What do you want?” My lips vibrate against hers as I fight the urge to give in to the one thing I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since she was thrust back into my life.

Quinn draws a deep breath and holds it for a second. Her lips part, and her warm breath blows over my lips, “Y?—”

“Daidi!” Fiona’s scared voice carries from down the hall, immediately dissipating the needy tension in the air.

The warmth of Quinn’s expelling breath disappears from my lips as her hands fall from their tight hold of my shirt. She barely glances at me as she climbs from the couch and retreats into the cool night air on the terrace. I want to follow her, but the moment is gone. Standing from the couch, I shout, “I’m coming,a stóirín.”

With Quinn’s screams having woken her, it takes a bit to comfort her and convince her that everything is okay. At least twenty minutes pass before I manage to get her back to sleep. By the time I make my way back into the living room, Quinn is no longer standing on the terrace. Since no one alerted me that she left the apartment, I can only assume she went to bed.

I decide to follow suit. Stripping from my clothes and sliding into bed, I am wide awake when my head hits the pillow. The more I try not to think about Quinn and our fleeting moment on the couch, the more she infiltrates every last nook and cranny of my thoughts. Flooded with memories of things I’ve tried so hard to forget, my cock grows hard.

As much as I’ve tried to ignore it, I yearn to feel the softness of her skin beneath my fingers and enjoy the taste of her on mytongue again. My hand descends beneath the sheets, and I close my eyes and wrap my hand around my cock, giving myself both.

Running my tongue along the length of her inner thigh, I teasingly lick from her knee to the subtle dimple beside her pussy. I nip at the tender flesh of her upper thigh, and herthighs tremble, fighting against the double spiral futomomo.

“You look so fucking good, spread wide and dripping in anticipation of my touch.” I kiss the words against her soft, well-groomed cunt.Itake a deep breath and inhale the scent of her as my tongue drags teasingly up one plump lip of her cunt and down the other as I fight my urge to bury my face in her.

Sliding my fingers between the ropes binding her thighs to her calves, I pull her against my face as I firmly swirl my tongue around her entrance and up to her clit. She groans with pleasure and need as the swirl of my tongue quickly brings her to the edge. Holding her at the brink, I slip a finger into her. Easing it in and out of her ata brutally slow pace, I command, “Tell me what you want.”

I imagine feasting on her, the fantasy so vivid I can practically taste the sweet tang of her. My hand slides languidly over my length, wanting to savor every moment of my fantasy instead of merely providing myself relief.

“Please,” she begs, trying futilely to grind her hips against my face. “Make me come.”

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