Chapter 21 Quinn
QUINN
Is it possible to be hungover and horny at the same time?
My eyes are still closed, but the bright morning sun is already pushing knives into my brain. Colt’s arms band around me, holding me against his firm—and in certain places, fully hard—body, and the contact sets me on fire. I push back against him, and he moans sleepily in my ear.
One hand slides from where it’s grasping my breast, skimming over my stomach to my hip. He pulls me back as he pushes forward, grinding himself on my ass. We both moan.
“Fuck, Quinn,” he whispers, kissing the spot where my neck and shoulder met. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Worth it?”
He runs his hand back up to my chest, massaging my breast before tugging my nipple through my tank top. “Without a doubt.”
I pinch my eyes shut more tightly to block out the headache and focus on his brilliant hands, but Colt reads the stiffness in my body. He slides away from me and pushes up on his elbow, looking down at me with a cocked eyebrow.
“Hungover, Chaos?”
“Of course not. Perfectly fine. Keep touching me.”
He scrutinizes me for five seconds, and I fight to keep my face serene. Suddenly, he bursts out into a loud—and off-key—rendition of “O Sole Mio.”
I squeeze my eyes shut again and blindly reach to cover his mouth. “Fine. I have a slight headache.”
His grin falters before he drops beside me, noticeably keeping his hands to himself.
“We shouldn’t have done anything last night.” He’s upset, more at himself than me.
I roll to face him. He’s staring up at the ceiling with his brows pulled together.
My fingers grip his chin and turn him toward me. “I was tipsy, not drunk. I’m just in my thirties. Looking at alcohol gives me a hangover. You have nothing to feel guilty about, I promise.”
His Adam’s apple bobs and I fight the urge to lick up his throat.
“And don’t think I forgot your promise. I’m fully sober now.”
His pupils dilate, the green slipping away like a shadow taking over a forest. There’s danger there, and my veins are injected with another hit of desire.
“You still want that?” he asks, his eyes boring into me.
“Absolutely,” I say. “Don’t you?”
His jaw tightens, and I worry for a second that he’s going to say no, that it’s too much of a risk for our friendship, and he’ll leave me here burning.
“And you’re happy with this just being physical?” he asks.
Physical is good. Hot. I don’t want to ruin our friendship with romantic feelings, and Colton already made it clear that he isn’t willing to factor anyone else into his plans. We’re on the same page.
“Don’t worry, Colton, I’m not asking you to be my boyfriend or anything,” I say, and his body sags in relief.
My heart pinches, which doesn’t make sense.
Why should I care that he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend when I don’t want to be his girlfriend?
I wiggle my eyebrows to cover up the little sting of rejection.
“I read somewhere that orgasms cure headaches.”
He chuckles, and I marvel at how my body can have simultaneous yet opposite reactions. Goosebumps fly over my skin while my head jackhammers.
“While I’d love to fuck the headache out of you, the aspirin on the bedside table may be more effective.”
He stands and heads for the bathroom, and panic floods me. He’s walking away, giving my brain space it definitely doesn’t need. Space that will fill with the questions and worries that had been pushed out by pure need.
I take a deep breath. I’ve done friends with benefits plenty of times. Why would anyone pass up good sex with someone they can trust completely with their body? The complications come when you mix feelings with orgasms, and that’s a line we both agreed not to cross.
This doesn’t have to be complicated. I want him.
He wants me. Sex has never been a big deal to me.
It’s a way to feel good. Is it better with someone I care about?
Of course. But so is everything else. Talking and cleaning the house and going to the grocery store.
I’ve always been able to separate the feeling from the act, even when hooking up with a friend.
I grab the pills and toss them back. “What about your promise?”
“One time. That’s what you want, right?”
There’s a challenge in his eyes, and I feel like I’m being tested on a subject I’ve never studied.
“Yeah, don’t you?” I ask.
He rolls his lips together. “Of course. Let’s save it for when you’re feeling better.”
“But I want it now.” I sound like the brat from Willy Wonka, imagining myself trashing the factory because I didn’t get my golden goose.
He walks back to my side of the bed, taking my head between his hands and pulling me in for a deep kiss, completely unconcerned with my morning breath.
Pulling back so our lips are a hairsbreadth apart, he whispers, “I have too many dirty things I plan to say in your ear to have you wincing every time I talk. Patience, Chaos.”
He gives me one lingering kiss and heads to the bathroom without another glance.
Meanwhile, I’m a puddle.
Colton nudges me towards the entrance of the thermal park. The stunning resort is designed around the natural healing properties of the volcanic island’s water. Properties that my still-pounding head seriously need.
The manicured pools and waterfalls are set into the cliffside, creating the illusion of cascading waters. It’s exactly what I need right now. To sit in the pools, close my eyes, and let everything go but the feel of the water on my skin. I rub at my temples again.
“The pools will help,” Colton says from behind me. I can hear the smile in his voice, and I want to elbow him in the stomach. Then, his hands land on my shoulders and expertly press into the knots on either side of my neck, and all’s forgiven.
“I’m not going in the freezing ones,” I say. “You can’t make me.”
He chuckles and continues steering me towards the pool. “Noted. We’ll start in the natural cave. From what I remember, that pool’s warm and the cave will keep the sun out of your poor, hungover eyes.”
“You’re the best.”
He throws his arm around my shoulder, and we walk in companionable silence towards the cave at the back of the resort.
If we did this day properly, we’d move through the pools in the order the resort suggested, each change in temperature and length of time designed for optimal relaxation and healing. But right now, I need to stay submerged.
We toss our clothes and towels onto a nearby chair.
The air in the cave is cool, tucked away from the heat of the Mediterranean sun.
The warmth of the water and the chilly bite of the air ease the tension in my body, and I drift over to the back corner of the cave.
I lean against the natural wall, the edges of the cliffside digging into my back like the island itself is giving me a massage.
I open my eyes and breathe a sigh as the pain in my head fades. Colton makes his way to me, his eyes dark in the dim light. No one else has made it to this pool yet. We’re closed off from the rest of the guests, and I shiver at the predatory glint in his eye.
I wet my lips as he closes in, and his eyes track the movement.
“Remember the last time we were here?” I ask.
He lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. “Yeah.”
“What’s that scoff mean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“It means I definitely remember you running around in a tiny bikini,” he says, his voice as dry as the Sahara. “Not the easiest day of my life.”
“Would you say it was… hard?” I roll my lips together in an attempt to bite back a smile at my truly horrendous joke.
His arms land on either side of my body. “That was terrible, and you should be ashamed of yourself. But yes. It was very, very hard.”
The press of his lower half to mine makes me gasp. He runs his nose along my jaw. The way he inhales, like my scent is sustenance and he’s starving, makes my heart tighten. I grasp his shoulders, wrapping my legs around him.
“Do you want to head back to the hotel?” I whisper.
He leans back and quirks an eyebrow. “No need to rush this. I want to spend the day with you.”
I bite my lip against the smile. How does he know the perfect thing to say?
The idea of spending the day together without the awkwardness of us pretending we aren’t attracted to each other is exactly what I need.
His willingness—no, his request—to put off sex to get more time with me is everything.
It’s a relief to know that in a few hours, when our one time is up and sex is back off the table, this connection will still be there.
I lean forward and give him a light kiss. “That sounds perfect,” I whisper against his lips.
He groans and deepens the kiss. We may not be running back to the hotel, but we’re only human.
I hear the voices before he does, unwrapping my legs and using them to push him across the pool. His eyes are still dazed as the new swimmers come around the corner to join our oasis.
“Quinn!” Markus calls out, and I realize the poorly timed interruption is a group of our students. Thank god we stopped when we did. The last thing we need is the students gossiping about how they found two professors grinding against a cave wall on a school-sanctioned trip.
“She’s Professor Riley while here,” Colton barks from the other side of the pool. I send him a chastising look. His frustration isn’t an excuse to snap at poor students. He rolls his eyes and moves back next to me.
Markus looks chagrined, and I almost elbow Colton. The kid’s a goofball, but it’s clear to anyone watching that he idolizes Colton. “I’m sorry, Dr. Miller. Habit from back home.”
“Don’t worry about it, Markus,” I say with a smile. “It’s not a big deal. Right, Dr. Miller?”
Colt holds my gaze for a second before turning back to Markus. “Honest mistake.”
Markus visibly relaxes and swims closer while the rest of the students start horsing around. “Have you two been here long?”
Colton shoots me a look that says this is why I’m not friendly with the students, and I smother a laugh.