Chapter 10
Ten
L owey could feel him behind her, the weight of his presence tangible even before he touched her.
But then he did, his fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her back against him.
The hard press of his cock against her drew a shattered moan from deep within her.
She dropped her head onto the bed, arching her hips back against him, a silent entreaty for more.
“I’ve dreamed about you just this way.” The confession rasped out of him, his voice deeper and gruffer than usual. It shivered over her and stoked the flames.
“Then, God above, Quentin…what are you waiting for?” she asked. The need to feel him moving inside her, filling her up, and taking her the way that only he could was too intense, too all-consuming, to allow for patience.
It was like she’d flipped a switch. She heard the rasp of his zipper, so loud in the silent room.
Then he was there, the blunt head nudging against her as he parted her with his fingers.
He slid two inside her. It was unnecessary.
Foreplay, while a wonderful thing, was wholly redundant.
She’d been wet for him since the moment she’d laid eyes on him.
It wasn’t pleasure, when he entered her.
That was too mild a term. It was relief—intense, overwhelming, and consuming.
For just a moment, it assuaged the awful need that was like a constant and unrelenting torture.
Then he moved, thrusting inside her, and the need flared to biting, scratching life again.
It clawed within her as her fingers clenched the bedding.
She screamed his name as the tension within her suddenly ratcheted higher, to the point she felt as if she might simply shatter with it.
Each thrust, each powerful surge of his hips as he drove into her only heightened the sensation. She was crying out insensibly, her body shivering beneath his as she climbed. The sounds that escaped her were more animal than human, but she was beyond caring.
“Please,” she gasped. She didn’t even know what she was asking for.
His hand moved from her hip, his fingers trailing up her spine until they tangled in her hair.
He closed his fist then, tugging her hair taut and pulling her head back.
It changed the angle of penetration just slightly…
just enough. A broken sob racked her, left her shuddering.
And then he thrust into her again—harder, deeper—and she broke.
Her body trembled as the pleasure washed through her, every muscle quivering as the waves crested again and again .
Lowey was still shaking when he abruptly withdrew from her. He flipped her onto her back. His hands were rough on her, but she craved that from him. She needed to feel that desperation from him, to believe, even if it was just for this moment—that he was as consumed by it as she was.
When he came down on top of her, his weight settling between her parted thighs, he kissed her again.
His mouth was hot on hers, his tongue surprisingly gentle as he slipped it between her lips.
It glided tenderly against hers—soft, sweet.
It wasn’t the kind of kiss you got from someone who just wanted to fuck you.
It was the kind of kiss you got from someone who loved you.
But there was no time to question it, no time to ask him to explain. He was sliding into her again, easing his cock inside her and thrusting deep. He pulled back then, breaking the kiss and looking down at her. Their gazes were locked together as intimately as their bodies.
It was different, she thought. He was different. Whatever was between them had changed, morphed into this strange thing that neither of them fully understood or was prepared to define or deal with. Then conscious thought fled, and she was left with only the ability to feel.
Quentin gritted his teeth, trying to hold back his own release until he could watch her come for him again. The need to see that, to see her head thrown back and her lips parted on a silent cry as she shuddered beneath him, was something he couldn’t ignore.
Dipping his head, he pressed a kiss to the soft skin between her breasts and followed it with a lick.
He could taste the salt of her skin as she strained beneath him.
The muscles of her thighs trembled, her belly quivered, and he knew that she was close.
He slipped one hand between their bodies, pressed one finger against her, stroking her clit with deliberate precision.
Her neck arched, her head fell back, and her lips parted on a soundless cry as she clenched around him.
The rhythmic clenching of her body around him pushed him over the edge.
He thrust deep once more, surging into her and gritting his teeth with the force of his release as he came inside her.
Collapsing onto the bed, resting his weight on his elbow so he didn’t crush her, Quentin struggled to regain his breath. Regaining his equilibrium was a lost cause. She rocked him to his soul, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Lowey was beyond beautiful, but it wasn’t just her perfect face or her curvy body that haunted his dreams that drew him to her. It was the hint of vulnerability beneath all the barbs. He wanted to take care of her, to be the man she didn’t think she deserved.
“If I didn’t know better,” she said, rolling onto her side and curling against him, “I’d think you missed me.”
He grinned as he rolled onto his side to face her. Looking at her was a joy in and of itself, but looking at her this way, with her face still flushed, her lips still swollen from his kisses, that was something special. “You know I did. And you missed me. Don’t bother trying to deny it.”
She turned her head to stare up at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t. For better or worse, Quentin, no one makes me feel the way you do.”
Quentin’s grin faded slightly as he took in her profile.
There was still a sadness in her, and he had to wonder if it wouldn’t be there forever.
Lowey had struggled her whole life. She was still struggling.
At least he had his siblings, even if they did drive him crazy sometimes.
She was alone in the world, and he had to live with the fact that he’d exploited that to his advantage.
He’d used that to worm his way into her life with every intention of just leaving her behind when he was done .
Coming face-to-face with his own ugliness was a hard thing to do, but it was time to own it. It was time to stop hiding behind everything that he’d pretended to be, everything he’d tried to be, and just accept what he was.
“We’re going to try for better. I can’t promise we’ll succeed,” he said softly, “But I can promise to try.”
“What is this, Quentin? This isn’t you.”
“It is,” he protested. “No more walls. No more hiding. I want you, and not just for sex…amazing as it is. I want all of it. Body and soul.”
She looked at him directly then, those dark eyes of hers peering right through him. He couldn’t have hidden anything from her in that moment even if he wanted to.
“If I give that to you,” she replied in a low, steady tone. “You have to give it back. I’m tired of this being a one-way street.”
“Whatever I have, baby, and whatever I am, it’s yours.”