Page 76 of The Fire We Crave

“Smoke,” I say. “Ronan. Please, wake up. It’s me. Quinn.”

He doesn’t move, so I gently place my palms on his pecs and shake him. “Ronan. Come on. Wake up. You’re safe.”

He bolts awake and sits up with such force that I dip back to avoid being slammed in the face. Sweat dots his temples, his breathing ragged.

“Quinn,” he says, grabbing me desperately and holding me hard to his chest.

I wrap my arms around him. His body is cool and clammy with sweat, but his hair smells fresh from the shower he obviously took before he went to bed.

His heart races. I can feel it where our chests are pressed together so tightly, I can barely breathe.

And his fingers dig into my back.

“It’s okay,” I soothe while I rub my palms gently up and down his spine. “Take a minute and find your bearings.”

But he doesn’t. He releases me, cups my cheeks, and kisses me.

I taste every ounce of fear and shame and hurt that still courses through him. His hands hold me tight too, as if I’ll slip away.

His tongue brushes mine, and he lies back down, taking me with him.

Once his head hits the pillow, I try to break away from him. “Stop,” I say.

His steely eyes glare at me. “Fuck me or get out.”

“Smoke, please.”

He folds a forearm across his eyes. “I’m serious, Quinn.”

I reach for his arm and tug it out of the way. “You’re vulnerable right now. It would be wrong.”

He rubs his hand across his face. “Let me decide what’s wrong, Quinn. So what if a bad dream is the reason you’re in here right now. We’ve been dancing around this since I saw you fuck your pussy. Share it with me. Now.”

“Tell me what your nightmare was about.”

“Does it matter? I need your body to escape them. And there are some images you don’t need in your head. Trust me, once they’re in there, they won’t come out.”

“If you want me to share my body with you, then you need to share what’s happened to you with me.”

He winces. “Fine. You asked for it. The fire at the bakery turned into you dying when I couldn’t get to you. I saw your skin peel from your body, Quinn. But then, it turned into you on that fucking mountain. Couldn’t get to you there either.” He slides his palm along my thigh, beneath the hem of my nightdress. “But you’re here. Now. Alive. With me. And I don’t want to go another minute without knowing what it would feel like to bury my cock inside you.”

He pushes the covers back off the bed, and I finally see he’s naked. He takes his cock in one hand, stroking it gently, then loops his other hand behind my neck, pulling my lips to his.

“Why didn’t you want this when we got home?”

“Because I was trying to be a fucking gentleman.”

“Then, what do you need now?” I ask, letting him set the boundaries.

“All of you,” he replies.

Even with the uncertainty that this is any kind of good idea, I’ll do it. Because if this is the way I can help him in this minute, if this is what he needs to forget what happened and ground himself in the safety of the now, so be it.

“Kiss me, Quinn. Make me forget.”

This time, the kiss is truly mutual. There’s nothing quick or sweet or fleeting. I yield to him, part for him, and invite him to take whatever he needs. To explore me however he wants to.

It’s deep, possessive, and passionate.

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