Page 45 of Infinite
“Shh.” My finger covers his lip. “No more questions. No more wonder. Make me feel you, Quinn. Make me forget everything but you.”
He doesn’t hesitate. A second later, he has me in his arms, and his lips are on mine. I kiss him, giving as much as taking, letting him fill me to the brim with everything. I feel his hesitancy, emotions, love, and determination.
It swirls between us as his hands press against my back, keeping me tight against him.
The sound of hunger erupts from his throat as his tongue slides into my mouth. I drink in his taste. His breathing is labored, and I don’t know if it was from the run, our talk, or the fact that we’re both surrendering to each other.
All of the past weeks slip away as his lips graze against my skin. Gone is the loss, grief, and sadness. It’s all replaced with him.
“I fucking love you, Ashton.”
“I love you.”
That’s the only thing that’s been constant. I love him. I just don’t love myself.
His hands slide into my hair, and as his fingers wrap around the strands, he tilts my head to the side. I revel in the way his tongue pushes against mine. We both battle each other before he breaks away, sliding down the column of my neck.
Quinn’s teeth nip against my smooth skin, biting softly as he gets to the base. His tongue leaves a trail as he goes to my shoulder, moving the straps of my tank top down. “God, I’ve missed you.” I close my eyes, fingers in his dark hair. “I’ve missed your taste, your smell, the feel of your skin against mine.”
I shiver and kick against the current that is threatening to take me away from him. This time, I don’t want to let it pull me out to the safe, calm waters where I drift. This might be our last time, so I need to remember, absorb, and savor it all.
“Kiss me,” I beg.
He does. He kisses me like he’s a starved man and I’m his last meal. It’s been so long, and he’s been patient with me, never once pushing me into something I couldn’t handle. He’s settled for chaste kisses and snuggling.
When his lips leave mine, he’s panting. “Do you want me to stop?”
Quinn has always been ravenous when it came to us sexually, and right now, I want to unleash the beast.
“No. No, don’t stop. Please, I’m not made of glass, and if I am, then I want you to break me.”
He lifts me so my legs can wrap around his waist. Our lips stay fused as he walks us to the bed. I grip his damp, hot skin as he lowers me.
Quinn stands, looking over me. His chest rises and falls with the effort it’s taking for him to control himself.
I’ve been weak the last few months. The loss of the baby has beaten me down and left me in a constant state of despair, but I push that all away.
He won’t give me what I need if he sees that same woman. I dig as deep as I can to bolster myself. There’s no way he’ll break me willingly.
“I want you so much, but fuck, Ash, you . . .”
“Need this,” I say for him.
I watch the storms roll through his eyes, and I won’t let him stop. I lean up, wrapping my hand behind his head, and bring our lips together. Slowly, he melts into the kiss. I coax him to stop thinking, praying he’ll let his restraints slip further.
Then his warm hand moves down my front to the hem of my shirt, and I stare into his eyes as he removes it. Not wanting him to back out, I unhook my bra and fling it to the floor.
Quinn drinks me in as my breasts are bared to him.
“You’re gorgeous.”
I don’t allow the self-doubt to seep into this moment. It doesn’t matter that I have a scar on my stomach or that I’ll forever feel like less of a woman. He doesn’t see that, and I need it to stay that way.
My fingers move to his chest. “You’re so hot.” I trace the planes of his abs, loving the ridges and peaks. There’s a faint scar on his side, and I press my lips to it. “I’ve always loved your body.”
He tilts my head back. “I love you.”
I know he does, which is the best and worst part of it. Somewhere, deep in his blue eyes, I see the fear lingering. I wonder if he knows what this is and will stop it.
