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“It doesn’t have to be.”
Her hand reaches up, hesitating for a moment before coming to rest on my chest, directly over my heart. I wonder if she can feel it racing beneath her palm.
“Justine,” I whisper, my voice rough. “I’m still figuring things out. After Nola?—”
“I know,” she says gently. “I’m not asking for promises, Quinn. I’m just asking for right now.”
Right now.
The simplicity of it is disarming. Not forever, not the whole complicated future. Just this moment, this connection.
“What exactly are you asking for?” I need to hear her say it.
Her eyes meet mine, steady and clear. “I’m asking you to kiss me. If you want to.”
Her words are barely audible, a whispered permission that sends electricity down my spine.
Without overthinking it, I reach up, cupping her face in my hands. Her skin is soft beneath my calloused fingers. I trace the line of her cheekbone with my thumb, watching her eyes darken.
“Are you sure?” I ask, giving her one last chance to back away.
In answer, she rises on her toes, closing the final inches between us. Her lips brush against mine, feather-light and questioning.
It’s a spark hitting dry kindling.
My hands slide into her hair, angling her face up to deepen the kiss. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, her fingers splaying across my bare chest before curling into my shoulders.
The kiss is nothing like I expected. It’s not tentative or sweet. It’s hungry, insistent. Like we’ve both been holding back too long.
Justine presses closer, her body warm against mine as I back her gently against the wall. Her hands roam over my shoulders, down my arms, mapping the contours of muscle and bone.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are slightly swollen, her pupils dilated, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
“Wow,” she whispers, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Yeah,” I agree, resting my forehead against hers. “Wow.”
Her hands slide up to my neck, fingers threading through my hair. “So, that happened.”
I laugh softly. “It definitely did.”
“Any regrets?” Her voice is light, but I catch the undercurrent of vulnerability.
In response, I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her. “None,” I murmur against her lips.
Justine smiles against my mouth. “Good. Because I’d really like to do that again.”
“Just kissing?” I tease, nipping at her lower lip.
She pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting mine. “For now. I’m not in any rush, Quinn.”
The simplicity of her honesty is refreshing. No games, no hidden agendas. Just Justine, with her purple-tinged eyes and soft smile, offering something real.
“Neither am I,” I tell her, meaning it. “This—whatever it is—I want to do it right.”
“Whatever it is,” she echoes, tracing my jawline with her finger. “I like the sound of that.”
Her phone buzzes in her pocket, breaking the moment. With a sigh, she checks the screen. “That’s Priscilla. Her and Wynonna are waiting for me. We’re going out to a club.”