Page 108

From what I remember, the room is nice. Thankfully, Elle upgraded us all to bigger rooms. The suite has a sitting area, a king-sized bed, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the still-darkened city. The power outage continues in patches across the downtown area, creating an intimate backdrop of scattered lights against the darkness.
“I’ve wanted this,” she whispers against my lips, her hands already working at the buttons of my shirt. “God, Quinn, I’ve wanted this for so long. Especially after tonight . . . the way we connected out there . . .”
“How long?” I ask, my voice rougher than I intended, my hands tangling in her hair that still smells faintly of the cold night air.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her pupils dilated, her lips already swollen from our kisses. “Since Boston. Maybe before. Definitely since that night we talked for hours on the bus, and you were too much of a gentleman to make a move. But tonight, when we were singing together under the stars . . .”
I groan at the memory. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands to myself that night. Or how incredible you were tonight with the acoustic set.”
“Show me,” she challenges, her fingers finally succeeding in unbuttoning my shirt. “Show me how hard it was.”
The shirt falls to the floor, and her hands immediately find my chest, tracing the lines of muscle, making me shiver despite the warmth of the room. I catch her wrists gently, bringing her hands to my lips to kiss her palms.
“Are you sure?” I ask again, because once we cross this line, there’s no going back. “Because if we do this . . .”
“Quinn.” She steps closer, eliminating the last inch of space between us. “I’m not going anywhere. I told you that on the rooftop tonight, and I meant it. I want this. I want you. All of you.”
Something in her voice, the certainty and vulnerability mixed together, breaks the last of my restraint. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her deeply, pouring everything I feel for her into the connection between our lips. She responds immediately, her arms wrapping around my neck, pulling me down to her.
I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carry her toward the bed. The scattered city lights streaming through the windows cast everything in a soft, romantic glow, making her skin look luminous. I set her down gently at the foot of the bed, my hands already reaching for the hem of her sweater.
“Your turn,” I murmur, and she raises her arms to help me pull the soft cashmere over her head.
The sight of her in nothing but black lace takes my breath away. She’s beautiful. I’ve always known that, but seeing her like this, wanting me the way I want her, especially after the emotional intensity of tonight’s performance, overwhelms me almost completely.
“You’re staring,” she says, but there’s no self-consciousness in her voice, only satisfaction at the effect she has on me.
“Can you blame me?” I trace a finger along the edge of her bra, watching goosebumps rise on her skin. “You’re incredible. Tonight, watching you sing . . . I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
She reaches for my belt, her fingers working with purpose, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to maintain control. When I open them again, she looks up at me with such tenderness mixed with desire that my heart actually stutters.
“I love you,” I tell her, the words coming out rough with emotion.
“I love you too,” she whispers back. “So much it scares me sometimes. Tonight made me realize how much I need this . . . need you.”
My jeans join her sweater on the floor, and then we’re skin to skin, the sensation so perfect that we both gasp. I trace the line of her collarbone with my lips, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling her pulse race beneath my tongue.
“Quinn,” she breathes, and my name on her lips like that might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard, even more beautiful than her voice floating across the parking lot tonight.
I take my time exploring her, mapping every freckle, every sensitive spot that makes her arch against me. When I find the place where her neck meets her shoulder, she makes a sound that goes straight through me, her nails digging into my back.
“Please,” she whispers, and the word breaks something open inside me.
I reach behind her to unclasp her bra, my fingers surprisingly gentle despite how much I shake. The lace falls away, and I take a moment just to look at her, to memorize this moment.
“You’re perfect,” I tell her, and I mean it completely.
She blushes, her hands moving to cover herself, but I catch her wrists gently.
“Don’t hide from me,” I say softly. “Not ever. You’re beautiful, Justine. Every inch of you.”
I kiss her again, slow and deep, pouring all my reverence for her into the connection. When I move my lips to her throat, to her collarbone, to the sensitive spot just below her ear, she arches beneath me, her breathing becoming ragged.
“I need you,” she whispers against my hair as I trail kisses down her body. “Quinn, I need you so much.”
The vulnerability in her voice, the trust she places in me, makes my chest tight with emotion. I’ve never felt thisconnected to another person, never wanted to please someone so completely.
I take my time with her, using my lips and tongue to bring her to the edge again and again, until she trembles beneath me, my name falling from her lips like a prayer. When she finally breaks apart, her back arching off the bed, the sight of her lost in pleasure is so beautiful it almost undoes me completely.