Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
QUINN
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I rush upstairs with Zoey.
Once inside her loft, she rips off her mittens and tosses them against the wall, kissing me, shrugging off her jacket, tugging off mine.
She tosses her glasses on the table while I kick off my shoes, stumbling, my heart racing.
This is actually happening. Zoey’s lips are so soft and delicious, but firm.
She slides her tongue over me, her breaths heavy, her hands gripping me.
She’s kissing me like she’s starving, like she’s been waiting years.
My jacket knocks over something with a loud thump when I toss it, but we don’t stop.
I want more. I want to canvass her body with my fingers and breathe her in and taste her skin.
God, she smells so good, tastes so good, and the need to be closer to her intensifies.
Shallow pants leave my mouth. My pulse pounds in my chest, a steady thud that grows stronger, more intense, more desperate.
I cup her cheeks, fist her hair, inhale everything about her.
Just from the kisses, the foreign emotions, I feel myself slowly come undone.
I’m not going to last more than a few minutes.
Zoey spins me around and presses my back against the wall, and…
Holy hell, who is this person? She leans back and meets my gaze.
Her clean, crisp blue eyes have darkened, and something nearly feral has taken over.
The sweetness is gone. She looks like she wants to devour me.
Her hands glide down my side and tug up my shirt.
My heart pounds against my rib cage. Fingertips swipe against the skin at my belly, and goosebumps fly up my arms.
I hold her tight, pull her into me, needing her closer.
Her body is so warm, so open, so ready. She moans against my ear, dragging her lips across my neck, kissing the slope below my ear.
Her mouth doesn’t leave mine, hardly at all.
A bolt of electricity rushes through me, a current that is firing all my cells, springing me to life.
Her lips are so full and strong, her tongue moves against me, owns my mouth and…
What does this all mean? Is this it? Is this what people talk about when they have so many feelings, and being with someone special, and emotions, and—Shit.
I pull back.
Immediately, she stops. Her lips are red, swollen, wet with kisses. Heavy breaths heave against her chest and her gaze dashes across mine. “Oh, gosh, okay, oh yikes. Sorry, I just, with our conversation, I thought… Oh no… Are we good?”
I drag my hands down my face. What is my problem?
This is the type of sex that I love, that I crave.
Hot, fiery. The kind where everything inside me burns to the point where I need to unleash, and now, I’m literally frozen.
“Yes, we’re totally good.” I drop my hands from her waist and pull in a few calming breaths.
Zoey steps back with a crease forming between her brows.
“Did I do something wrong?” Zoey asks, her eyes growing wide.
I grab her hands and swipe my thumb against the smooth skin. “No, no, of course not. You’re… perfect.” Words choke at my throat. “I’m so totally up in my head right now. I’m sorry.”
Leaning against the wall, I release her hands and calm my breaths.
Never once since I was sixteen and first had sex has something like this ever happened.
I’ve never stopped midway because of nerves.
Nerves, for God’s sake. This is my realm.
With sex, I’m like on a mission control operation.
There is a goal. Make the woman orgasm, get myself off, clean up, and go home.
It’s what I do, and I’m a master at it. I don’t think, I do. And now, I’m thinking. A lot. Too much.
“Quinn? Talk to me.” Zoey lays a hand on my shoulder and dips her head to meet my gaze. “We don’t have to do this. Really. It’s totally okay.”
Ugh. I want to do this, so bad. My legs are practically quivering already from her kisses alone.
I picture her, us, more than the bedroom, more than this moment.
A future. A low pinch starts in my chest. “No, no. I want to do this. Like so bad I can hardly stand it. Zoey, you are incredible. So kind, so thoughtful, so fucking beautiful.” My words are failing me.
But I need her to understand, and I can’t explain it properly.
“I do this. Like all the time. This is who I am. But until you…”
Zoey takes a hesitant step back. “Until me, what?”
Trembles overtake my body. I exhale, heavy, through my nose, and try to push past them.
“Until you, it felt different. It wasn’t this…
and I’m so scared for this.” My body and brain begin to splinter.
An ache to touch Zoey, to taste her, to feel what she feels like pressed against me, fights against this brick wall in my heart and I don’t know how to reconcile them.
I don’t know how to sleep with my best friend and kiss her and feel the satiny smoothness of her skin, while still having all her other parts—the one I want to call at night, the one I want to watch movies with, laugh with, dance on empty dance floors with.
How do I combine all the parts I love about her with all the parts I crave?
“You’re shaking,” she says softly. “Come on, let’s sit on the couch.”
Her fingers intertwine with mine and she leads me to the living room. When I sink into the cushions, I sigh. I love this as much as I hate it. I want to be with Zoey. This is not a question. This is not my fear, not what I’m running from. But how to be with Zoey is a totally different question.
As Zoey holds my hand, she rubs a gentle thumb against my inner wrist. The feather-soft tracing makes my skin spark alive and I lean into the touch.
She doesn’t push me to talk. Instead, she continues holding me, letting me think and process.
Silent moments fall between us until I finally take a sharp breath.
“I’m scared.” I tuck a leg under my butt and shift to face her.
“This isn’t me. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I’ve changed since coming back here, since meeting you.
” I nibble on the corner of my lip and take another breath.
“I’ve always just had sex. That’s it. I’ve never had… this.”
Zoey tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “What is this?” she asks. When I don’t answer, she leans forward and cups my face. “What is this?”
Her eyes are reading my soul, burying into me, seeing all my darkness, and she’s still here. She’s not running, she’s not making me feel like shit, she’s not doing anything but listening.
My chest feels tight. Christ, do people do this in the real world?
Talk about feelings and fears? It feels like I’m opening my diary and just waiting to see if Zoey will look past all the ickiness or if she’ll flee.
It’s suffocating and frightening, but Zoey is worth it.
To the deepest part of me, I know Zoey is worth me living in the fear.
I push out a shaky breath. “I’m terrified of these feelings.
They’re so, I don’t know, raw. Real. And so fucking scary.
I’ve never had them before and don’t know what to do with them. ”
A soft grin passes, and she drops her hands from my face. “I’m scared, too.”
My chest lifts. “You are?”
She nods and tugs a pillow into her lap.
“I’ve had these feelings before. And they’re beautiful and wonderful.
I thought I was going to marry these feelings, you know?
When Josie and I were together, I was convinced it was for life.
And when it ended, I knew, I just absolutely knew, that I would never have this again. ”
Maybe I am the most self-centered person in the world, but it never occurred to me that she is scared, too.
She’s comforting me, supporting me, and it should be the other way around.
Zoey’s navigated a broken heart, learned to overcome, opened herself up again.
I’m the one who has never had this, and I’m scared. Zoey must be petrified.
I peek up into those warm blue eyes, absorb the way Zoey is looking at me with want, and intention, and care, and I want to fold myself into her. “I’m scared of real.”
“I’m scared of real, too,” she says. “But if it’s real with you, then I want to try.”
Her eyes dip to my mouth, and I know that look. The lust is obvious. But there’s more, something deeper. She’s giving me a peek into her soul, a gift, one that I think she’s given to very few people. And in this moment, I decide. I’ll accept the gift.
The couch dips below me as I move forward, cup her face, and bring her to me.
I’m slow, diligent, purposeful, as I press my mouth against hers.
I inhale the cherry on her lips, the taste of sweet orange and passion and promise.
She moves against me, her hands caressing my arms, and slips her tongue against mine.
My body melts. With every swipe, breath, kiss, I drop. My defenses, my fears, my insecurities. Her fingers tug at the edge of my shirt, and my belly quivers. She lifts the fabric, softly, hesitantly, her fingers sweeping against my skin.
The urgency pushes both of us, stronger, firmer, and Zoey deepens the kiss. She pulls my bottom lip into her mouth, then releases. My breaths increase, my pulse picks up speed. This is really happening. This moment, this feeling, I want to remember every second.
She grips the bottom of my shirt and lifts it over my head, leaving me only in my tank. “Oh my gosh…”