Page 51 of Q: Satan's Fury MC

Quinton watched as I reached down and grabbed my shirt and undergarments from the floor. After two rounds of sex, I had no doubt that he had seen every inch of my body, but I still felt the need to hold the fabric against my chest, hoping it would be enough to cover my body as I darted for the bathroom. I hadn’t gotten far when he growled, “What the hell is that?”

“What?” Startled, I whipped around, and the second I saw his face, I knew he’d seen my scars. “Who did that to you?”

“It’s nothing, Quinton.”

“It’s not nothing!” He got up from the bed and charged over to me, wrapping me tightly in his arms. The anguish in his voice broke my heart as he asked, “How in the hell did I miss it?”

“We were both a little distracted.”

“It’s no excuse.” He looked down at me with a horrified expression. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know.” I knew they looked horrible. It was why I’d worked so hard to hide them. “I guess I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? You’ve got no reason to be embarrassed, baby.”

It pained me to see the way he was looking at me, especially after the incredible sex we’d just had. I didn’t want to tarnish the moment, so I asked, “Can we please not talk about this right now?”

“Jules.”

“Please,” I begged. “I’ll tell you all about it. Just not right now.”

“Okay, but I’m not going to let this go.”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

I held his gaze for a moment, then turned and slipped into the bathroom. When I saw that there was a shower, I placed my clothes on the counter and turned on the water. I’d barely stepped under the water when I felt Quinton get in behind me.

He didn’t say a word.

Instead, he put some shower gel on a sponge, then ran it carefully down my arm. Without ever saying a word, he washed my chest, my neck, and every inch of my body, paying careful attention to my back. After every brush of the sponge, he’d let the water wash away the soap, and then repeat the process all over again.

It was the sweetest, most sensual, erotic thing anyone had ever done for me. When he was done, he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. His hands slowly reached up to the sides of my face as I opened my mouth to him. The kiss became demanding, sending an involuntary shudder down my spine. This man had consumed my thoughts, my dreams, my very existence, and now, in this moment, he was consuming my heart.

My hands roamed across his broad, wet chest, feeling his muscles tighten as he continued to claim me with his mouth. I loved the feeling of his hands against my body. The taste of him against my tongue. The scent of his cologne. Every miniscule detail about this moment would be locked away forever in my memory.

After several moments, he released my mouth, and I eased the door open. As I grabbed a towel, he told me, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

After a quick nod, I stepped out, and dried off. While he finished showering, I went back to the bedroom and got dressed. I’d just finished putting back on my pants when he stepped into the room wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, and my God, he was a sight to behold.

The muscles on his chest were perfectly defined and lined with intricate tattoos, and he had a six-pack that rippled down to his oh, so sexy V. Add in his wet, tousled hair and panty-melting eyes, and you have an absolute dream of a man. “It’s just not fair.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed and enjoyed the view as Quinton started getting dressed. As he put on his boots, he asked, “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat a bite. What do you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking it’s time you try my famous pasta.”

“Um-kay. Are we going to have this amazing pasta at your place or mine?”

“Yours. I just need to drop by the store to grab a few things first.”

“I think we can manage that.”

He grabbed his keys from the dresser, then took my hand in his and led me out to the parking lot. Since we had to get groceries, we took my car and headed to the store. Once we’d bought all the ingredients he needed for dinner, we drove over to my place. I helped Quinton carry the groceries upstairs and put them on the counter. “Okay, what do we need to do to make this famous pasta of yours?”

---