Page 55 of Quake

Thirty-six freckles dust the bridge of her nose and cheeks, with one rampant one taking place in the center of her bottom lip.That one’s my favorite.

She begins to stir, her lids fluttering open, and a smile spreads across her face as I come into view. Her immediate reaction to seeing me makes my heart clench inside my chest. Somehow, I had anticipated regret at seeing me when she woke up. I even considered leaving when she fell asleep to avoid that but couldn’t drag myself away from her.

“Hi,” she says, her voice soft, almost a whisper, but her smile remains.

“Hi,” I repeat, an unfamiliar lilt to my voice.

“How long was I asleep?”

Checking my phone on the nightstand, I tell her, “Only about an hour.”

“Really?” she asks, eyes widening in surprise. “I feel like I was asleep for twelve hours.”

“I can take care of the dogs and let you keep sleeping if you want,” I offer, wanting to give this beautiful woman anything she desires in exchange for the weight she’s somehow lifted off my shoulders.

“It’s okay, but can we just, uh, talk?” Her words send panic racing through me, my body tensing with fear.Does she want me to leave? Is she already done with me?

“Of course,” I tell her, worry evident in my tone, and my brows pinch together.Did I hurt her? Go too far?“Did I hurt you?” I finally ask.

“What?” She looks at me with wide hazel eyes. “Oh my gosh, no,” she says, waving a hand through the space between us. “No, you definitely didnothurt me. That was honestly the best sex of my life,” she admits, her cheeks flushing.

“Oh,” is all I manage as my tongue sits thickly in my mouth.

“Yeah, I just want to get to know you better, if that’s okay?”

I consider this, deciding I’d like to know everything about her, and I know how this works. It’s a trade. “Sure,” I respond, voice strained.

“Okay, good,” she says, rolling over to lie on her back with her hands crossed over her stomach. I do the same, staring up at her ceiling. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Well, itwaslight blue, like my eyes.” I answer her honestly, deciding to give her some additional context as it’s one of the safest questions she could have asked, and I appreciate her going easy on me. “As a child, I was fascinated with mirrors. How they worked, how the different angles and shapes changed our perception. How lighting could have such an impact on the way our pupils constricted, or what color our irises appeared.”

“That’s actually really sweet, but you said it ‘was’ your favorite color. How about now?” she asks, a light-auburn brow raised at me.

“Emerald green,” I tell her on impulse. The unspoken part is that it’s only recently become my favorite color. More specifically, emerald green and rust.Just like her eyes.

She hums beside me before finally breaking her silence. “Mine is pink, and no, I don’t have a sweet reason for it like you.” She chuckles. “I just really like pink. Your turn.”

I’m certain that I could ask her anything, and she’d answer me, but I know she’ll make me respond, too, so it has to be something that isn’t too personal. “Okay, I’ve got one. When’s your birthday?”

“It’s January twenty-sixth. I’m an Aquarius,” she says with a lazy smile.

“Happy belated birthday,” I tease.

She laughs at that, the small sound sending tingles through me. “It’s been almost two months,” she says, and my eyes flit back to her to catch the way she playfully rolls her eyes at me. I love how expressive she is. I never have to guess with her. It’s a freeing feeling. “Your birthday?”

“March twentieth,” I admit.

She hums. “You’re a Pisces.” I feel the bed shake with her silent laughter before she says, “That makes entirely too much sense now.”

Before I get to ask her what she means by that, she sits up straight, peering down at me with wide eyes. “Your birthday is infive days,and you haven’t mentioned it before? What are we doing?”

My brow wrinkles in confusion. “It’s not a big deal, Lark. I don’t really celebrate my birthdays. I don’t like big parties or loudatmospheres, so I just have Sunday dinner with my family, and my mom makes my favorite dessert.”

She settles down, understanding calming her confusion. She lies back down slowly, reaching out her tiny hand to grasp mine. I can’t help myself as I lift it to my lips, running them across her knuckles before placing a kiss to the center of her palm.

“What’s your favorite dessert?” she whispers.

“Carrot cake,” I answer, but before I get to ask her the same, she rolls over, partially on top of me.

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