Page 104 of Waiting For You

“This is cozy,” I say, and Quinn grins over at me, looking so damn happy. He flops down on the bed, his legs sprawled out in front of him, and I just take him in, the lines of him, the shape. He’s so damn hot.

I want to press myself down against him andgrind.

“I mean, besides the birds, it’s pretty great. Wanna just hang here tonight? There is so much I wanna do to you in this bed, and then tomorrow we can go explore. There’s a trail that leads us over the dunes to Lake Michigan. Have you done it before?”

“Yeah. Once,” I say as I move toward him and step between his legs. My hand runs along the top of his thigh, moving closer and closer to his hard dick, wanting so badly to touch, to feel. “But yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve done the hike. I think that sounds great.”

He arches his hips up, his breath coming out a little shaky.

“I could so go again,” he whispers. “But we should probably wait until Ginny is asleep.”

“And the birds,” I tell him, and Quinn lets out a pained chuckle.

“Yeah, those damn birds. Fuck. I cannot believe how many she has. I swear I didn’t know about those. No one mentioned them in the reviews. I mean, they said the chirping was beautiful, but I thought they were talking about the birds in the motherfucking trees,” he replies, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

Our eyes meet and he reaches out, his hand sliding across my hip.

“Hey, how are you feeling? Where’s your mind at? You can be honest…”

“Oh, yeah, I’m um…I’m feeling pretty damn good.”

“Not worried?” he asks, and I know what he’s asking. Am I worried about Joshua? Well, fuck, I am. Just a little. Of course that’s gonna be in the back of my mind. He’s my son. But I feel more at peace now that Quinn is around. Now that I have him again. It’s like things can finally move forward now that he’s by my side.

“You sure you wanna be stuck with an old guy like me?”

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and stands up, pressing up against me. “Old. You’re young, Grey. Stop being so dramatic.”

I mean, has he met my knees? They’re fucking fragile. But I don’t say that.

“Now, come on. Let’s grab a drink and sit outside. I just want to be with you for a while before we come back inside for the night and I wreck your ass.”

I blush at that and let him pull me to the kitchen where Ginny makes us tea. And then we cradle our mugs and step outside into the cool summer air. All around us I hear the wind whipping through the trees and smell the scent of cherries in the air. It was evening when we arrived and now the sun is starting to make its descent in the sky. Fuck, it’s romantic to just watch it set with him, to know that we are ending our day together and that tomorrow we will wake up in each other’s arms.

It’s simple, really. This is what I want.

We sit together on a white wooden porch swing, our hands entwined, our thighs pressed against each other’s. He wraps a blanket around us and leans his head on my shoulder, and I feel so damn content.

God, I am so into him. How did this happen?

Well, I know how it happened. He captivated me—full-on stole my heart. Maybe it all started years ago, when he first planted the seed—sitting with me on my birthday, bringing me cupcakes, listening to me so raptly each and every time we talked—and then it bloomed on our road trip. Just took root and blossomed.

And now I can’t imagine my life without him. Which sounds insane. It’s only been a few days. But has it really? Perhaps it’s been years.

“I know I asked this, but is it weird that this is moving so fast?” I ask and Quinn leans up and shakes his head.

“Nah. Let me reassure you. It’s just right, Grey. I couldn’t wait another year for this to happen. I already waited until I was nineteen. I about died. My heart can’t wait another minute to be with you.”

I pull him in closer, so close he’s almost straddling my legs. But that’s fine. I want him on me, want him on my lap.

The swing groans and squeaks beneath us as we just cling to each other, our hearts beating in time with one another.

I bring his hand up to my lips and kiss those knuckles, loving that they’re never fully clean, that there is clay still caked on the tips.

“Love your hands,” I say, my voice full of gravel. “I want to watch you work one day. Would you let me?”

Those green eyes slash up to mine. “Of course I would. I so fucking would,” he says and pulls me down for a deep kiss.

I could get lost in it. I almost do but we’re interrupted when a telltale squawk resounds near us. We pull apart and our eyes are drawn toward a familiar figure making his way toward us.

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