Chapter 26
Quinn
W e’re standing in the lady bathroom off Harlan’s bedroom. When I just wrap my arms around myself and definitely don’t start getting undressed, Harlan takes a deep breath, like he’s holding onto his patience, and starts the bath water running.
My attention creeps over to the many beauty products on display. Including a lot of pretty, feminine-looking tubes, jars and bottles, and makeup, which clearly don’t belong to Harlan. They’re all over the countertop, which was stark and empty the last time I was here.
I actually feel nausea creeping up again, but this time, it’s not pregnancy related.
“Has someone else been here?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “Another woman?”
He scowls at me. “Of course not.”
“Then what’s all that stuff?”
He turns away, adjusting the temperature of the bath water, so I can’t read his face when he says, “It’s for you.”
I take another look at the items, all the skin care and luxury cosmetics.
There’s a basket of bathing supplies by the bathtub, too.
He got all this stuff for me? To make it more welcoming and comfortable for me, when I finally came back?
He squeezes a dollop of something that smells lovely into the bath, like lavender and vanilla.
“Don’t make it too hot,” I tell him. “It’s not good for the baby.”
“I know that,” he says grumpily. “I’ve read the books.”
“What books?”
“All of them.”
I try to picture that, but can’t.
He glances at me, almost self-consciously, and mumbles, “I listen to audiobooks in the car.”
Somehow, that’s even harder to picture. Harlan and Manus, driving around, listening to audiobooks about pregnancy.
When he approaches me, I suddenly feel shy. Like this is the first time he’s going to see me naked.
“Take off your clothes, Quinn,” he says gently.
“Do I have to?” I joke.
His eyelids lower as his gaze roams down my body. “It will be a much more comfortable bathing experience if you do.”
The way he says bathing experience , I’m definitely wondering if I’m in for more than a bath here.
When I hesitate, he moves behind me. I can see him in the mirror as he starts unzipping the back of my dress with focus.
I swallow. “My body is changing,” I warn him.
“I hope so. That means the baby is growing.” He drops the dress to my ankles and deftly unhooks my bra.
“I feel fat,” I say self-consciously as he peels it off, my breasts bouncing free. God, that feels good, though. My nipples hum, desperate for his attention.
“You’re gorgeous, Quinn,” he says, his voice low and rough, as he dips his fingers into my panties. They tug against my clit, making me shiver. He pulls them gently down my legs, sparking little shivers all the way down.
He undresses me like I’m the most precious thing on earth to him. Not fragile. But beloved.
It takes my breath away.
When I’m completely naked, his hooded eyes find mine in the mirror. Then they find my pussy. “Do you want help getting in the bath?”
“I’m okay.”
I climb in and sink into the warm water, and he shuts off the faucet.
Then he strips off his jacket, and starts rolling his sleeves up over his strong, sexy forearms, watching me the whole time.
I try not to stare, reminding myself that I’m mad at him.
I pick up a washcloth that sits on the side of the tub, but he takes it from my hand. “Sit back.”
I settle back into the bath, too tired and too thirsty for his attention to argue. He lathers up the cloth with body wash. Then he kneels by the tub and smooths the soapy cloth over my skin. Legs, feet, and toes. Then arms and hands. He’s soaping each individual finger when I finally decide I’m speaking to him again.
“I just don’t think you’re being fair,” I tell him, trying not to sound like I’m in heaven.
“It’s almost cute how much you fight me,” he mutters.
“As long as you win,” I counter.
He gives me a look that’s part dangerous and totally aroused.
But I don’t want to forget that thing I’m mad about just because my body wants his so badly.
“Your brother and Megan, they would be such important clients to me. And the guests at their wedding, those are also potential clients.”
At least he seems to be listening, and calmly. “I’ll get you other clients.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
His eyes meet mine. “It would be my pleasure.” He soaps my breasts and I sigh, kind of rolling my eyes. His gaze moves hungrily down my chest. “Your breasts are swelling.”
“Yeah, I’m pregnant,” I say dryly, like I’m not enjoying this at all. “All of me is swelling.”
He carefully washes my hips, then my belly, which is definitely swelling a little.
Then he takes my hands and gives me a gentle tug. “Stand up.”
I get to my feet with his help, then put my hands on his shoulders for balance. I’m becoming soft and rubbery, and I only sag against him more as he lathers my ass with his strong hands, massaging me with body wash.
He looks up, his gaze moving greedily over my naked breasts, then locking onto my eyes. “What did I do that hurt you, baby?” he asks me. “I’m going to fix it.”
I try not to pout when I say, “You don’t want me at your brother’s wedding.”
He says softly, “I can’t have you around my family, or tell them about the baby, unless you continue to let them believe that you’re Darla. Can’t you do that for me?”
“That’s not fair. You’re trying to put this on me, like I’m the one who’s in the wrong.”
“I already told Savannah it’s just a nickname. They can call you Quinn now. What does it matter?”
“You think this is about a name? My name, or whatever they think it is, is not the point. I don’t want my relationship with my baby’s aunts and uncles, your brothers and sister and sister-in-law, to be built on a lie. Do you?”
“Of course not. But that doesn’t change anything.”
I gently push his hands away.
He doesn’t like it. But I don’t care.
“So you prefer secrecy and lies to honesty and trust,” I say.
“It’s not what I prefer. It’s the way I need it to be.” He squeezes out the cloth in the bathwater and uses the warm, clean cloth to wash between my legs, his eyes darkening as he does it.
“To protect her ,” I say, my voice breaking. “You’re still protecting her.”
And now I’ve revealed the bruising truth. The source of my hurt. Now he knows that I’m still jealous of her. Geneviève Blaise.
The real Darla.
“It’s not about her,” he says tightly.
“Of course it’s about her. It’s always been about her.”
“Come here.” He takes my hands, and guides me as I step out of the bathtub.
I watch him warily as he dries me off with a big, plush towel, but I’m losing this battle with myself. I can’t resist the pleasure of his touch.
So I just let him touch me.
My hormones have been doing crazy shit to me, and I’ve been horny as hell.
Horny, and wanting him.
And the way he’s looking at me right now, I know he’s been missing me, too.
He’s down on his knees in front of me, and the way he caresses my body with the soft towel, so slowly, while he carefully studies my nakedness, is maddening. He’s setting me all aflame, making me burn for him. It’s like my whole body has forgotten I’m already carrying his child, and is urging me to let him plant himself inside me again.
He strokes my swollen nipples with the nubbly fabric, and asks me, “Do you like that?” His voice is low and dark with need.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He moves the towel between my legs, nudging my already-swollen clit. “How about this? Does this feel good?” He caresses my pussy with the towel. If I’m wet there, it’s no longer from the bathwater.
I moan wordlessly as my eyes roll closed, and I dig my fingers into his shoulders.
“Have you been playing with this pretty pussy,” he whispers, “while you think about my cock?”
“You’re a monster.”
“So you tell me,” he says, not the least bit offended. “And I’ll take that as a yes.”
And just when my rubbery knees are about to give out, he drops the towel, scoops me up in his strong arms, and carries me into the bedroom. He lays me down gently on his bed, on my back.
But instead of stripping off his clothes before he joins me, he just gazes down at me, like I’m some beautiful prize he can’t believe he’s won.
When he finally lies down beside me, he’s still dressed. He’s on his side, facing me. My body is still humming from his caresses with the towel. My breasts are swollen and plump, and he stares hungrily.
Then he starts placing soft, worshipful kisses on my breasts. His slight stubble is rough on my skin, making me shiver, and he takes his time… leaving sweet, sucking kisses all over. While completely ignoring my nipples, which are swollen and dark, and extra sensitive.
“Beautiful Quinn,” he says softly. “Tell me how you feel. Right now.”
“I’m aching,” I whisper as my nipples tighten, begging for the attention of his hot, luscious mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he keeps ignoring them.
“Tell me, baby. Where does it ache?”
“Please, Harlan,” I beg breathlessly.
“Tell me,” he demands. “Where?”
I know he knows. He just wants me to say the words.
“My nipples and my pussy.”
“Mmm. Does my sweet girl want these gorgeous, achy nipples sucked?”
“Oh my god, yes, ” I cry shamelessly.
He chuckles, driving me mad.
Finally, he flutters his tongue over one taut, eager nipple. I whimper, it feels so good.
“More,” I beg.
He keeps teasing, fluttering his evil tongue over the taut peak. “More?” His fingers drift over my hip, toward my pussy, so fucking slowly I think I might die. “How about this aching pussy?” he taunts, like the beast he is. “Should I play with it?”
“Please…”
“You want me to touch your clit?”
“Fuck. I’m dying…” My heart thuds in my chest as he makes me wait for it. “ Please .”
When his fingertips finally reach my clit, gently fluttering over it, I gasp.
He drags his teeth along my nipple, just lightly, and I cry out. His fingers are so warm as he fondles me with gentle purpose, making me pant and sweat. When I start to tense, he says softly, “Just relax for me, sweet girl. I’ll take care of all your little aches.”
I try. I try to take a breath and relax, but everything is quickly swirling together into one giant, aching, throbbing mass of need that’s centered between my legs. And he just keeps teasing at it, so gently, with his deft fingers.
He flutters his tongue over my other nipple, then takes it into his mouth. He groans, a sound of masculine contentment, and starts sucking. Goosebumps break out all over my body, and I feel myself gush.
My body wants to be fucked by his. Hard.
But he seems to have no intention of fucking me. Just teasing me until I completely fall apart.
When I start grinding my hips a little, trying to get more pressure from his fingers, he pinches my clit. I squeal and fall still. Pleasure surges through me.
I almost come.
“Shh. Not yet,” he murmurs as I struggle to catch my breath. “Nice and relaxed. That’s my good girl.”
I fucking melt when he calls me his good girl.
I bask in it, glowing in his approval.
He moves his mouth from one throbbing nipple to the other, and resumes teasing. “My sweet, horny girl,” he taunts happily, in-between licks. “You’re going to come for me, so hard, aren’t you.” Then he sucks me into his mouth again, deeper, and my eyes roll back.
I try harder to relax and be still, and just feel everything he wants me to be feeling right now. His hot, wet, sucking mouth. His teasing tongue. His patient fingers between my legs, gently persuading me to succumb, to surrender to him.
I lay perfectly still, the way I know he wants me to, just receiving the pleasure he gives as he stokes my arousal, higher and higher. Until the first spasm of pure ecstasy makes my hips twitch and my pussy jerk. I moan raggedly as I start to fall apart.
I can’t stop it this time.
“That’s it, baby,” he says, a thrill in his voice. “Let go.”
He bites my nipple a little, and I cry out as the climax explodes through my core. I feel it in my nipples as he suckles. I scream softly until my voice is hoarse, as he strokes me right through it, coaxing my pleasure in waves. My pussy clenches, over and over, longing for the sweet stretch of his swollen cock, filling me with his hungry thrusts.
I’m throbbing all over, aching for him to possess me. My thighs are soaked in my need for him.
Maybe this is exactly what he wants…
“Harlan,” I plead.
“I know, baby,” he says softly, “keep coming. Good girl.” Then he sucks my throbbing nipple into his mouth again as I keep falling apart.
He coaxes and coaxes until he’s lavished me with every last twitch of pleasure I can possibly feel.
Only then, when my body finally stops quivering and spasming in response to his caresses, he releases me.
He settles next to me, and pulls me against him, drawing the covers over us both. I feel boneless as he guides my head to his chest, and I collapse there, spent.
I can barely stand to move, but my fingers slide beneath the untucked hem of his shirt, seeking his warm skin.
I feel his heart beating, steady and strong, beneath my cheek.
He’s silent, just holding me, and I know I’m going to fall asleep in his arms, and fast. I feel tender and raw and totally spent.
Satisfied.
And scared as hell.
I whisper brokenly, “Do you think you could ever love us like you love her?”
But if he answers me, I don’t hear it.