Page 41 of The Road to Forever (Beaumont: Next Generation #7)

TWENTY-EIGHT

T he hotel key card trembles slightly in my hand as I slide it into the reader. Green light. The soft click of the lock disengaging seems impossibly loud in the quiet hallway lit only be emergency lights.

“You sure about this?” I ask Justine, though we both know the question is rhetorical.

We’ve built toward this moment for months.

Every lingering touch, every night we’ve stayed up late putting lyrics on paper for us to sing, neither of knowing we were writing a love story.

. . our love story. And after tonight’s magical acoustic performance in the parking lot, everything feels different.

This feels like she’s been the right person for me, only we met at the wrong time.

She turns to face me, her back against the hotel room door, and the look in her eyes makes my breath catch. “Quinn James,” she says softly, her voice still slightly hoarse from singing in the cold night air, “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

I push the door open, and we stumble inside together, our lips already finding each other before the door even closes behind us.

The kiss is hungry, desperate, months of restraint finally breaking free after tonight’s emotional breakthrough.

Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I can taste the lingering mint from her gum and something that belongs purely to Justine.

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 this connected 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.

“Come here,” she says breathlessly, reaching for me, and I move back up to kiss her, tasting her satisfaction on my lips.

She rolls us over, straddling me, the sight of her above me, skin flushed and eyes dark with want, makes my hands tighten on her hips.

“My turn,” she says with a smile that’s both innocent and wicked, and then she kisses her way down my body, her lips and tongue setting me on fire.

By the time she makes her way back up to me, I barely hold onto control. She positions herself above me, her eyes locked on mine, and for a moment we just look at each other, both of us understanding that this changes everything.

“I’ve never felt like this with anyone,” she whispers, and then she sinks down onto me, and the sensation is so fucking perfect, I swear I forget all my worries.

We move together slowly at first, learning each other’s rhythm, finding the perfect synchronization. Her hands brace against my chest, her head thrown back in pleasure, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

“God, Justine,” I breathe, my hands sliding up to cup her breasts, and she responds by moving faster, her movements becoming more urgent.

The connection between us is electric, every touch sending shockwaves through my system. When she leans down to kiss me, changing the angle, we both moan into each other’s mouths at the increased sensation.

I roll us over again, needing to be closer, needing to feel every inch of her against me. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and the way she says my name as I move inside her makes me feel like I could conquer the world.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, her lips against my ear, her breath hot against my skin. “Please don’t stop.”

I have no intention of stopping. This feeling, this connection, this perfect harmony between our bodies, I want it to last forever. I want to memorize every sound she makes, every expression that crosses her face, every way her body responds to mine.

When her climax builds again, I can feel it in the way she tightens around me, in the way her nails dig into my shoulders, in the way she breathes my name like it’s the only word she knows.

I hold her through it, watching her face as she comes apart in my arms, and the trust and love I see there pushes me over the edge with her.

We collapse together afterward, breathing hard, our bodies still intertwined. I pull the covers over us and gather her close, her head on my chest, her hair spread across my skin.

“That was . . .” she starts, then trails off.

“Yeah,” I agree, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It was.”

We lie there in comfortable silence for a while, listening to each other breathe, to the distant sounds of the city slowly coming back to life as power is restored in patches.

Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest, and I run my hands through her hair, both of us seemingly reluctant to break the spell of this moment.

“Quinn?” she says eventually, her voice soft in the darkness.

“Mmm?”

“I’m glad we waited. Until it meant something. Until it was right.”

I tighten my arms around her. “Me too. Though I have to admit, there were moments I wasn’t sure I was going to survive the waiting.”

She laughs, the sound vibrating against my chest. “Like when?”

“Like every time you wore those leather pants on stage. Or when you fell asleep against me on the bus that first time. Or basically every moment since I opened my eyes, and you were there. You helped me heal when I didn’t know I needed it.

I knew you were special the first time I saw you at Trixie’s.

It just took someone else leaving to show me what was right in front of me. ”

She lifts her head to look at me, and even in the dim light, I can see her smile. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Good,” she says, settling back against me. “Because you’ve done the same to me.”

I run my hand down her back, marveling at the softness of her skin, at the fact that she’s here in my arms. “What are you thinking about?”

“How different everything is now,” she says thoughtfully. “Six months ago, I was just the lead singer of an unknown band, hoping for our big break. Now I’m here with you, and it feels like my whole life has changed.”

“Is that scary?”

She considers this. “It should be. But with you, it feels like an adventure instead of something to be afraid of.”

I kiss the top of her head again, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with the lingering fragrance of our lovemaking. “I know what you mean. I spent so long trying to make something work that wasn’t meant to be, and now with you, everything just feels easy. Right.”

“Even the complicated parts?”

“Especially the complicated parts. Because we figure them out together. Like tonight, when the power went out and we could have panicked, but instead we created something magical.”

She tilts her head up to kiss my jaw, and the simple gesture sends warmth spreading through my chest. “I love that about us. How we make each other better.”

We talk for hours, our voices quiet in the darkness, sharing stories and dreams and fears.

She tells me more about her childhood, about the loneliness that drove her to music.

I tell her about feeling like an outsider sometimes, about the pressure of living up to expectations, about how lost I felt before I found her.

“I want to know everything about you,” I tell her as dawn starts to lighten the sky outside our windows. “Every story, every scar, every dream you’ve ever had.”

“That could take a while,” she warns, but she smiles.

“I’ve got time. All the time in the world.”

She shifts against me, and I can feel desire stirring again despite how thoroughly we’ve already explored each other. Apparently, she can feel it too, because her hand starts moving lower on my body.

“Again?” she asks, but there’s nothing uncertain about the way she touches me.

“Only if you want,” I say, though my voice already gets rough again.

“I want,” she confirms, and then she kisses me, and we lose ourselves in each other all over again.

This time is different. Slower, more exploratory. We take our time learning what makes each other gasp, what makes us arch and moan and beg for more. By the time the sun fully comes up, we’re both exhausted and sated and more connected than I ever thought possible.