I arch my back, my breasts pressing against his hard chest as his other hand skims down my body to grip my ass, his fingertips slipping under the hem, riding high on my butt cheek.
“CK.” He freezes when I moan his name. “More,” I plead, those jumping-jack firecrackers sparking through my veins when I rub my clit against him just so.
“Quinn.” He thrusts against me, and I whimper, “CK.”
My touch turns frantic. The need to touch more of him, to remove any barriers between us thrums through my bloodstream.
His kisses travel across my jaw and down my neck, his tongue flicking out to lick at the erratic pulse hammering in my throat.
He nips at my collarbone, and I rip at his shirt, clutching the soft cotton and yanking it up over his head with enough force to have dislodged his glasses if he were wearing them. For the first time ever, I’m actually grateful he doesn’t have them on. If I ended up being the one to break those babies, there’s a legitimate chance I would cry.
His eyes have deepened to the same color as the darkening night sky outside, and his chest heaves in gulping breaths.
“Dios, you are deceptively sexy.” I run my hands over his torso, flicking his tan nipples with my thumbs and biting my lip when that sound of his makes another appearance in the back of his throat.
“Me?” he chokes out. “Fuck, Quinn.” His fingers dig into the nip of my waist, a roughness hovering on the edge of the grip. “Have you seen yourself?”
I attempt to grind on him again, but he holds me in place, his eyes boring into me with an intensity I can’t quite name.
“If this somehow is just one of my dreams, don’t you dare fucking wake me up.”
Happiness blooms behind my rib cage and radiates outward. “You dream about me?” I ask shyly, dipping my chin.
CK notches a finger under my jaw, waiting to speak until I meet his burning gaze. “Every. Fucking. Night.”
My mouth falls into a stunned O. Any restraint I might have had evaporates on the spot, and I throw myself at him with an unmatched fervor.
My actions turn sloppy, touching and groping any part of him I can get my hands on. By the time I cross my arms in front of me to remove my own top, there’s not an ounce of grace to my movements. I’m running on pure lust and pent-up sexual frustration.
I’m so keyed up that I jolt when CK stills me by covering my hands with his own.
“Huh?” I ask as his thumbs slip under my palms, prying my grip from the tight spandex.
Color stains CK’s cheeks, but it’s the measured bob of his Adam’s apple that makes me think his isn’t a horny blush like the one I feel burning on my chest.
An edge of trepidation slithers beneath my skin as he lowers our hands between us. It isn’t until his fingers thread through mine, linking us together, that it starts to ease.
“What? Why are we stopping?”
Again he swallows thickly.
“CK?” I bring our conjoined hands up to stroke along his clenched jaw.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
An ugly and probably irrational thought pops into my brain, but there’s no stopping it or the question it inspires. “You don’t want me?”
“The fuck?” He startles, his fingers pinching around my knuckles. “Of course I want you,” he’s quick to confirm.
Irrational assumption or not, my body sags under the weight of relief his confirmation makes me feel.
“Fuck do I want you, Quinn.”
“But…” I prod, hearing the but in the statement.
“But I’m afraid I’m not going to measure up to what you’re used to.”
I bite my lip and shake a hand free, cupping him through his pants. “I’d say you measure up just fine, Superman.” I squeeze, relishing his groan. “Talk about a man of steel.”
His chuckle is pained, but there’s no denying the tension easing out of his bunched muscles.
“I adore your crazy.” He wraps his arms around me, hugging me close.
“Keep saying sweet things like that, and you’re gonna make me cry.” My voice comes out smaller than usual because I wasn’t lying; I’m choking back a flood of tears.
“That wasn’t meant to make you cry, but what I tell you next just might.”
I straighten, sitting up but refusing to climb off his lap. If this is all going to come crashing down around me, I want to enjoy every second of it I possibly can before it does.
“I’m a virgin.”
I stare at him, waiting for the rest, because he made it sound like he had this bomb to drop on me.
“Umm…” I’m kind of at a loss for what to say. It feels wrong to be all Yeah, I figured as much, but in the same breath, the longer I go without saying anything, the more awkward the moment grows. So instead, I go with, “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”
CK blinks at me, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. “You’re saying it’s not?” I shake my head. “Most people find it weird for someone our age not to have had sex before.”
“Who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?” I run my fingers through his hair, sensing the need to soothe him.
“It doesn’t bother you?”
This man will forever create fissures in my heart with his shy vulnerability. “No. I actually find it kind of hot,” I answer honestly.
“What?”
Oh, I kinda love that I’m knocking him off balance.
“Ooo,” I singsong, twisting around on his lap as I search the room for something I know isn’t here but still seek regardless.
CK steadies me before I can take a header. “Why does your Ooo scare me more than admitting I was a virgin?”
I pinch the tip of my tongue between my teeth with a grin. “Because you may have fought it at first, but you, sir, know me quite well.” I give him a wink.
“Dare I ask what you’re looking for?” He sighs, as if resigned to his fate. It doesn’t bother me in the least. I’m just happy he’s not focusing on things he should have never seen as shortcomings.
I waggle my eyebrows. “Oh…you know…my whistle.”
“What?” He barks out a laugh, and the sound is music to my ears. “Why?”
“Because being your love coach just got a whole lot more fun for me.”
#CHAPTER29
* * *
The shrill of a whistle—the whistle, because no surprise, Quinn managed to retrieve it—greets me the second I step off the elevator.
I can’t see her yet, thanks to my vantage point, but I know the second I find Quinn, she’s going to have that teasing, taunting, troublemaking grin firmly in place on her pretty face.
How do I know? It’s the same one she’s given me for the past six days.
Not even a whole week has passed since I fell into this alternate universe where I go to sleep every night with Quinn snuggled in my arms, and wake up to her psychotically energetic morning-person self, rousing me without shame. Yet, like Quinn abandoning her room in favor of mine, playful greetings like this have just as easily become my new normal.
Setting my bag down on the kitchen island, I do a quick inspection of the penthouse, searching for the feisty redhead.