Chapter Eleven #9
“I think it’s time to get you home.” Quinn’s hand settled on Sasha’s lower back. “How much have you had to drink?”
“This many.” Sasha held up what he thought was four fingers but might have been three or five—his vision was a bit blurry despite his glasses. “But it’s fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. No big deal.”
Sasha attempted to stand, wobbled dangerously, and would’ve fallen if Quinn hadn’t caught him around the waist. “Okay, walking might be challenging though.”
“I gotcha.” Quinn’s arm tightened around him, and Sasha found himself leaning into that solid warmth, head resting against Quinn’s arm.
“Do you know I’ve never even been a date. Was the waterfalls a date?” he mumbled into the fabric of Quinn’s shirt. “No one has ever treated me like I matter until you.”
Quinn thanked Ash and settled the tab while Sasha continued to use him as a human crutch. The cool night air hit Sasha’s face as they stepped outside, making him realize just how fuzzy his head was.
“My car,” he suddenly remembered. “It’s here. Somewhere. I think.”
“We’ll come back for it tomorrow.” Quinn guided him toward a familiar black truck. “Let's get you home.”
“Your home or my home? Because my home has Marcus, and he’s being weird and scary lately.” Sasha frowned at the thought of his cousin. He didn’t want to go home. Not tonight. Not after Marcus had been there as soon as Sasha had gotten off of work, demanding that thousand back.
Quinn helped him into the passenger seat of his truck. It was the second time he’d ridden in it today.
“Guess I’m going to your place.” Sasha leaned sideways, closed his eyes, then sighed as he passed out.
Chapter Six
Quinn leaned back, watching his mate sleep, sunlight just beginning to finger its way over the edge of the horizon.
Sasha breathed deep and steady, face serene, that little nose twitching as he dreamed.
Lashes like red silk brushed his cheek. God, he looked unreal in Quinn’s bed.
A sight that punched all the air out of Quinn every time.
No one else had ever been in here. Not once. If Quinn wanted someone for the night, he always crept out—a stranger’s place, a rundown motel, somewhere easy to walk away from. This room? Sacred. Off-limits. But with Sasha tangled in his sheets, Quinn couldn’t imagine leaving.
Last night had been a test of willpower worthy of a saint.
Sasha’s clothes had been damp. Quinn didn’t blame him for shivering.
He’d peeled them off, careful, leaving Sasha in his underwear and nothing else.
He’d stopped there, hands fisting the blanket, because restraint was all that stood between him and losing control.
The coyotes. Fucking scavengers. They’d come out of nowhere, torn the perfect night to ribbons. They’d been laughing in the water, Sasha shining like a firefly, and then those bastards arrived. Quinn didn’t know who they were, but if he ever saw them again, he’d end them.
Sasha was his to protect, and Quinn had almost failed his mate.
Red lashes flickered. Sasha let out a soft sound, inched closer, and burrowed against Quinn’s chest, curling tight.
The world’s cutest burrito.
He grinned, breathing in the scent of cherry blossom and something more. Not shampoo. That scent belonged to Sasha alone.
Quinn was never letting him go.
Sasha’s lashes fluttered, his sleepy blue gaze colliding with Quinn’s and catching him mid-stare.
For a second, Sasha seemed to surface from some sweet dream and smiled—a lazy, crooked thing.
Red bedhead hair spilled across the pillow, wild and tempting, making Quinn want to reach out and run his claws through it.
“Taking up voyeurism as a hobby?” Sasha’s voice was rough, sleep and teasing rolled together. “Or is watching someone sleep just a wolf thing?”
Quinn snorted. “Only watch the cute ones.”
It was then Sasha glanced down at himself, and his eyes went wide.
The blanket was bunched at his waist, skin pale and dusted with freckles on full display.
The same marks Quinn had counted while undressing him last night.
His mate yanked the sheet up, but it was a lost battle. Quinn had already seen everything.
“Where’d my clothes go?” Sasha mumbled. He was barely awake, each word slow, like he was still figuring out how his mouth worked.
Quinn didn’t bother hiding his grin, propping himself up on one elbow.
“Relax. I was a perfect gentleman. You passed out in my truck. I took off your damp clothes and put you to bed. That’s it.
” He paused, eyeing Sasha’s bare shoulders where the blanket had slipped.
“Not going to pretend I didn’t appreciate the view, though. ”
Sasha rolled his eyes, but a crooked smile tugged at his mouth, blunting the retort. “So chivalrous.” He pressed a palm to his forehead as he winced. “My head feels like a marching band’s having a field day in there.”
“Mojitos will do this to you.”
A low groan escaped Sasha as he buried his face in the pillow. He stayed there a moment, muffled, and then lifted his head again. The look he gave Quinn was sober and searching. “So… You’re a werewolf.”
“Wolf shifter,” Quinn said, correcting him gently. “Werewolf makes it sound like we’re controlled by the full moon. We shift when we choose.”
“Right. Because that’s the weird part.” Sasha sat up, sheet slipping low around his waist. “Not the whole you-turn-into-a-wolf thing.”
Quinn brushed a stray lock from Sasha’s forehead with his thumb. “You’re handling this better than most humans would.”
“Give me a minute. I might still have a meltdown.” But Sasha leaned into Quinn’s hand anyway. “Does it hurt? When you change?”
“No,” Quinn said, voice softer now, fingers tracing along Sasha’s jaw like he was drawing a line he never wanted to erase. “Feels like stretching after being cramped too long.”
Quinn closed in, hungry and reckless, and suddenly it was his mouth on Sasha’s, claiming, devouring, demanding everything.
Sasha tasted like tangled sheets and the rum from last night, untamed and wild, and Quinn’s pulse throbbed with the need for more.
There was a startled sound from Sasha—a gasp, tumbling quickly into a heat-borne groan as his hands flew up, desperate, seizing Quinn’s shoulders like he would be swept away if he let go.
Sasha kissed him, carefully at first—a delicate brush of tongue, a slow tasting that quickly gave way to a deepening, a mess of hunger so familiar Quinn could already feel it under his skin.
He held Sasha’s jaw, thumb stroking that soft spot right below his ear, and Quinn’s other hand ended up low on his mate’s back, just holding his mate there, right against him.
When they finally broke apart, Sasha’s glasses were slightly askew, and his eyes were huge, pupils blown so wide that the blue was nearly gone, swallowed up and lost. He looked at Quinn like he was seeing something brand new and dangerous.
“Good morning to you too,” Sasha murmured, voice rough, almost shy, mouth a bare inch from Quinn’s and breath warming his lips like a secret. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m pretty sure I asked you if happiness smells like cupcakes last night.”
“You did.” Quinn’s hand roamed, lazy, painting invisible circles on Sasha’s stomach, trailing over skin just to watch the muscles jump and tense. “You also tried to feed me nachos. And you told me my eyes look like storm clouds.”
“Oh god.” Sasha’s hands flew up, hiding his face. “Please tell me I didn’t do anything else embarrassing.”
Quinn gently pulled Sasha’s hands away from his face, refusing to let him retreat behind his fingers. “Nothing embarrassing,” he said. “Just adorable.”
Sasha rolled his eyes, but heat flared at his throat, blooming upward, undeniable. He let his gaze dip, raked it over the lines of Quinn’s bare chest, then snatched it back up. “So, are we going to talk about the wolf thing or...?”
“Later,” Quinn promised, his thumb drifting across Sasha’s bottom lip as if he could silence old fears with touch alone. “Right now, I’d rather finish what we started at the waterfall.”
And just like that, the world narrowed to the soft edges of morning and the heat waiting behind Quinn’s quiet smile.
Sasha’s breath hitched, the sound raw, helpless. He nodded, only once, but it was all the invitation Quinn needed, and suddenly it was happening, fast, urgent, like they’d been circling this moment for weeks instead of a day.
Their mouths crashed together again, hungrier this time, fusing heat and want until they didn’t know where one ended or the other began.
Quinn pressed in, shifting his weight, guiding Sasha flat to his back, his mouth never breaking away, hands everywhere.
Quinn’s touch wandered lower, knuckles grazing the elastic edge of Sasha’s boxers.
The fabric was thin and useless and didn’t hide anything.
Sasha was already hard, straining, wanting.
Quinn trailed kisses down his Sasha’s jaw, lingering at his neck, savoring the taste of salty skin in the hollow of his mate’s throat.
Sasha’s fingers tangled in Quinn’s hair, gripping tight as if afraid to let go.
Quinn moved lower, mapping every patch of freckled skin, every shiver, every stuttered breath.
His tongue swirled around a nipple, and Sasha gasped, sharp and wild above him.
“Fuck,” Sasha breathed, hips lifting in a helpless arc off the mattress.
“That’s the idea,” Quinn growled, voice rough against Sasha’s skin. He left a burning trail lower, pausing at Sasha’s navel, catching his mate’s gaze. The way Sasha was looking at him, dark and dizzy, like maybe he was already too far gone.
Quinn hooked his fingers under the waistband and drew Sasha’s boxers down, slow, deliberate, exposing every inch till his mate’s cock was revealed. Flushed, hard, aching against his stomach. Sasha kicked the fabric away, suddenly unsure, eyes darting, body all tension and vulnerability.