Chapter 35
“Stay out of the gym tomorrow, Beckett. I mean it. Let your arm rest,” Roman says in that gruff, brutal tone he usually reserves just for me.
I unbuckle my seat belt and nod, desperate to get out of the car before I suffocate in the sexual tension brewing up front.
After being away with the team for the last nine days, it’s truly a miracle he didn’t haul Brielle onto his lap the moment they saw each other and fucked right there regardless of my presence.
The last hour in the car with them has been an experience I never want to live through again. I’d rather use one of the thousand nail files Elle’s stuffed into the centre console and use it to pop my eyeballs.
If I hadn’t taken Wes up on his offer for a ride to the airport the day we left, I’d have skipped all of this and driven myself home.
But, alas, I survived and can check sit in the back seat while my boss and best friend’s sister make fuck-me eyes at each other while doing this really weird thigh-squeezing thing that I want to forget ever having to witness from my non-existent bucket list.
“Yeah, you got it. Night,” I mutter while shoving the back door open.
Brielle waits until I’ve started closing it behind me to speak. “Can you tell Quinn that I’ll be at Blank Page at about noon tomorrow?”
I duck my head inside. “For what?”
“We’re finalizing the list of items for the engagement party. Don’t tell me you forgot about it.” She whips around to look at Roman, and he immediately glares at me. “You reminded the team this week, right?”
“Of course I did, sweetheart.”
“Don’t crucify the man, Elle. That’s my bad. The sexual tension in here is fogging my brain.”
She huffs, blonde hair bouncing. “Just remind her, please.”
I slap the roof as I close the door and hook my bag over my shoulder. It would have been easier to take a suitcase, but fuck it. Three days in, I just started wearing the same clothes and stopped shaving my face. Without Quinn, there wasn’t any point in worrying about my looks.
Except now I’m going to step inside and scare her half to death with the mountain man thing I’ve got going on.
Roman’s car tears down the road, disappearing into the night. I crack my neck and enter the building, not sparing the guard a look on the way to the elevator. I’m antsy to get upstairs and see my girl.
Yeah, she’s mine. Being away from her for so long has done one thing, and that’s make it clearer that we’re together.
For real, not in the way she’s wanted us to pretend to be in front of Ruthie and the other old ladies from bingo.
Quinn is mine for real, for keeps, the same way she has been for months now.
I’ve just got to convince her of that, and preferably before I burst apart with the need to make things official.
By the time I reach my door, my shoulder’s aching worse than it was on the plane ride and in the dugout yesterday. Dropping the bag at my feet, I use the code and watch the green light flash. The door swings open before I can reach for the handle.
Quinn’s warmth hits me first, then her scent, now tainted with hints of my body wash.
I stumble back in the hall before steeling my arms around her waist and lifting her clean off her feet.
The pain in my shoulder fades to a numbness as I walk inside and kick the door shut behind us, abandoning my bag.
Her hair is so soft against my face, and I inhale deeply, letting her fill my lungs in a way she hasn’t in nine days. It’s like stepping into a warm cabin after a night trapped in the snow. She melts me, and I fight against the urge to fall to my knees and bury my face in her stomach.
“You’re home,” she whispers, looping her arms behind my neck.
I grin and lower her to her feet. Dropping my hands to her ass, I give it a squeeze and arch a brow at what I feel. “I am, and you’re here.”
“Where else would I be?”
“It wouldn’t have been surprising if you were still at work.”
She swallows, and I feel the movement of it against my cheek. Her skin erupts with goosebumps when I rub my scruffy face against her.
“I tracked your flight.”
“Stalker.”
With a rough noise, she cups my cheeks and pulls me from where I’ve buried my face in her hair. Her gaze is so soft when it traces my face that it startles me. “You’re all bushy.”
“Do you like it?”
Her thumbs stroke the thick hair covering my jaw and around my mouth. I shiver, waiting for a reaction.
“If I said no, would you go shave?”
“Yes, but not right now.”
“Why not?”
I take her wrists in my hands, bringing them down to rest against my chest. She uncurls her fingers and presses them flat and wide. With space between us now, I ease my greedy gaze down her body.
It’s not the Havoc jersey she’s wearing that short-circuits my brain, but rather the lack of pants beneath it. And when I hastily spin her around, I nearly come in my pants seeing Rourke written across the back mere inches from the bare underside of her ass cheeks.
“I haven’t so much as kissed you in nine days, Quinny. Don’t torture me,” I plead, ushering her close again and butting my nose against hers.
She wets her lips, breath hot against mine. “That’s really the first thing you want to do? Your bag is still in the hallway.”
“I don’t care. Everything of value is right here.”
“Aren’t you wondering where Bodi is?” is her whispered response.
My mouth brushes hers, giving me a fleeting taste. I drag my hand up her spine and wrap her thick red hair around my knuckles, using the hold to tug her head back. Her pupils grow, swallowing the blue-grey I’ve missed so much, before her lashes flutter, hiding her eyes from me.
“No,” I rasp.
“He’s with your parents.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to kiss you now,” I promise, or threaten, maybe both.
She nods quickly, her breath hitching before vanishing entirely as I take her mouth in a rough kiss.
My pulse races, and I spin us until her back crashes against the door.
Surprise parts her lips, and I slide my tongue between them, finding hers waiting.
They play while I grip her leg and hitch it around my waist.
With a throaty groan, I give her round ass a slap and swallow her surprised cry.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Quinn. Tell me you wore this on purpose. That you walked into my closet and grabbed this just so I could rip it off of you the moment I got home.”
She arches her neck, guiding my mouth to where her pulse throbs beneath soft skin. I suck and nip on it, leaving marks that I’m half-tempted to beg her to tattoo so they’ll never fade.
“Is that what you’re going to do? Rip it off?” she coos.
I fist the fabric at her waist and run my tongue across her throat, needing to mark up the other side just as thoroughly. “Maybe. I could be convinced to leave it on while I’m fucking you, though.”
Her moan is nearly a whimper. “Aren’t you going to ask me if that’s what I want?”
I grin against her wet skin as I release her ass just long enough to shove my shorts off before I’m massaging it again. This time, I let my fingers dance beneath her cheek, hovering dangerously close to where she’s radiating heat.
“Is it, baby? Do you want me to fuck you?” I blow a rough curse across her neck when I reach her pussy. She’s so slick my fingers glide over her. “It sure feels like you do, and don’t you dare lie to me.”
She jerks into my touch, and I cup her firmly. “I missed you.”
“Say it again,” I urge, kissing up her jaw, her chin.
“I missed you so much. I don’t want to pretend otherwise.”
“Fuck.”
She groans her disapproval when I release her, but it disappears the moment I bend to scoop her into my arms. Her wide eyes fill with disbelief, and I swallow a growl at the nervousness that floods her beautiful face. I duck my head and take her lips, hoping to distract her.
Only once I’ve reached my room do I reluctantly release her from my hold. At the foot of the bed, she braces a hand on the mattress behind her and stares up at me. The pull of her throat draws my eyes to the red marks all over her skin, and I prowl forward, unable to stay away.
I reach over my shoulder and grip my shirt before tugging it off. Quinn’s stare falls to my chest and lingers there as her hands rise, brushing against my abs. My eyes threaten to roll back at the lightning zapping beneath her fingertips, and I drop my head, my mouth against her temple.
“Do you want this?” I murmur breathlessly.
Her chin dips with a nod, and I shudder. “Yes.”
“Tell me you missed me again.”
The searing sensation of her nails drawing twin lines down my V cut is followed by a blast of pleasure when she presses a palm to my rock-solid cock.
It lurches beneath her touch, aching so badly that I groan in pain before pinching her chin and bringing her mouth in for another kiss.
I don’t release her while I push her flat on her back or when I press forward between her legs.
She wraps her legs around my waist and digs the heels of her feet into my ass, pulling me closer.
Fisting the sheets beside her head, I grind forward and tease us both with the promise of what’s coming.
The breathy moan she gifts me is almost too much.
My dick’s dripping into my boxers, and if she makes that sound again, I don’t trust that I’ll avoid filling them entirely.
“I missed you, Beck,” she whispers, carding fingers through my hair, moving it off my forehead. Her eyes are so fucking clear when she opens them. “And I’d really like if you fucked me now.”
I bark a grated laugh and lift myself off her. She grins while I shove my jeans off and kick them away. Her cheeks are my favourite shade of soft pink, and I do a double take when I see the slightest dimple in the right one. My boxers hit the floor next, but all of my focus is on that tiny mark.
Leaning over her, I stroke her cheek before brushing my lips across it. “I love this.”
“Love what?”
“This dimple. It’s . . . I’ve never seen it before.”
She’s silent for a moment. “It’s hardly ever there. Yours are permanent.”