Morgan’s heart did a jumping jack at the arousal smoldering in Quinn’s forest-green eyes. His pulse throbbed in his strong corded neck, a frantic thump-thump that told her he was enjoying her seduction as much as she was. Her gaze swept over his incredible chest, hard and smooth and dusted with light-brown hair.
She scraped her nails against his pecs, eliciting a husky groan from Quinn. His skin was scorching hot to the touch. She felt pretty feverish, too, especially when she glanced lower and spotted the thick erection straining against his boxers.
Licking her lips, she dipped her head again and kissed her way down to his waistband. Her hands hooked under the elastic and slowly peeled the boxers off his muscular legs. His arousal sprang up eagerly and even if the house spontaneously burst into flames, she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from touching him.
She curled her fingers around his shaft, squeezing gently. Quinn let out a moan, and a bead of moisture formed at his tip. With the sound of her pulse drumming out a tribal beat in her ears, she pressed her lips to him, planting a soft kiss on his engorged head before taking him into her mouth.
Quinn tangled his hand in her hair, guiding her, filling her mouth with his impressive length. She teased for a bit, alternating between soft licks and sharp pumps, until he moved restlessly on the bed, one hand clawing at the silk sheet.
“You’re killing me,” he choked out.
She lifted her head and smiled. The savage hunger on his face did indeed confirm she was killing him, but he’d al so never looked more alive. Handsome features taut, eyes glittering with passion. He’d tried being aloof with her since they’d reunited, tried keeping his emotions hidden, but right now, in this amazing heated moment, everything he felt was written on his face.
She gave him one last kiss before sitting up. Quickly, she removed her tank top, tossed it aside, then shimmied out of her shorts and panties, which also found a place on the floor.
“You’re beautiful,” Quinn muttered, his heavy-lidded gaze moving over her naked body. He lifted one brow. “Is it my turn to have fun now?”
His words rang with sensual promise. Her body responded immediately, growing tense with anticipation.
“I suppose,” she replied with a mock-indifferent shrug.
A crooked grin tugged at his mouth, and then, in the blink of an eye, Morgan found herself flat on her back with Quinn kneeling between her legs. His arousal was hot and heavy against her belly, and when she reached down to touch him again, he swatted her hand away.
“My turn,” he reminded her.
She wasn’t complaining. A shiver scurried through her as Quinn bent down and flicked his tongue over one nipple, which instantly grew even harder. He circled her areola with his tongue, then captured the rigid bud between his teeth and sucked it. Morgan squirmed, the painful arousal too much to bear. Her legs scissored beneath him, seeking his erection, pleading for completion, but he shifted so that his sex rested on her thigh, denying her what she craved.
Pleasure hummed through her body as he moved his attention to her other breast, licking, sucking, rubbing her nipple with his thumb. By the time he lowered one hand to her aching core, she was close to exploding. Flames licked at her naked skin, the fire growing stronger, powerful, then crackling into an inferno when he slid one long finger inside her.
She clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip, fighting the rising climax. It was no use. He pushed his finger deeper, then withdrew, pushed it in again, and the inferno exploded, hot waves of climax searing through her. Quinn drew her nipple into his mouth again, riding out the orgasm with her, his skillful fingers drawing out each burst of pleasure.
When she finally came down to earth, she noticed him putting a condom onto his thick shaft. “Where did that come from?” she croaked, her throat dry.
He smiled. “My wallet. You know I’m always prepared.”
She was grateful he’d remembered protection, especially since she hadn’t even thought about it. She’d stopped taking the pill after they broke up, so she was glad he hadn’t forgotten about safety. Yet as he rolled the latex on, she experienced an odd flicker of regret. She almost wished he wouldn’t, that they might start a baby tonight, so she could have something of his when he left her again.
Pushing aside the troubling notion, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a long, lazy kiss. Their tongues danced for a second, and then he was sliding into her, stretching her, filling her until she let out a sigh of pleasure.
“You’re so tight,” he muttered, spreading her thighs wider with his warm hands. He gave a hard thrust and buried his entire length inside her, then pressed his cheek to her shoulder, groaning quietly.
“It’s been a long time,” she admitted.
Quinn raised his head and searched her eyes. “How long?”
“Two years.” She didn’t need to elaborate. There hadn’t been any other man since Quinn.
He let out a strangled breath and said, “For me, too.”
Shock flooded her, but he didn’t give her time to digest the information. He started to move, his pace fast and urgent, then slow and languid, each long thrust bringing her closer to the edge. She ran her fingers over the damp sheen of sweat on his back, closing her eyes and letting the sensations consume her. His hips started to piston, driving deeper, hitting a delicious spot that had her moaning uncontrollably.
They moved together in perfect sync, as if those two agonizing years apart had ceased to exist. Ripples of release gathered in her belly, spreading down to her sex and up to her tingling nipples, until the ripples formed a large, throbbing wave that finally crashed over her.
She cried out and buried her face against his solid chest, letting the pleasure take over. As she climaxed, his thrusts grew erratic, unrestrained, and suddenly he shuddered and let out a hoarse groan.
It took a moment for both of them to come down from the high the lovemaking had propelled them to. Morgan was breathing as heavily as Quinn, her breasts crushed under the weight of his chest, every inch of her quivering from the aftershocks of release.
Finally Quinn lifted his head and offered a wry smile. “Well, we’re obviously still incredibly good at doing that.”
A helpless laugh left her throat. “Yeah, we sure are.”
He rolled off her and got up to dispose of the condom, while she lay back against the damp sheets, suddenly uncertain. Would he ask her to leave? Announce his tremendous regret over what they’d just done?
He did neither. Turning off the bathroom light, he came back to bed and slid under the sheets, one strong arm pulling her toward him. She tucked her head against his shoulder and draped her arm over his chest. God, she suddenly felt like bursting into sobs, that’s how wonderful it was being in his arms again. Her lips tingled with the urge to tell him she loved him, that she would always love him, but she feared it would ruin the moment.
Instead, she nestled closer to him, as he lifted the sheet over both of them and held her tighter. She fell asleep to the sound of his breathing and the feel of his fingers soothingly stroking her hair.
* * *
Quinn opened his eyes the next morning to the sight of Morgan’s curvy, naked body sprawled on the mattress beside him. She slept on her side, facing him, with her silky blond hair disheveled and strewn across the pillow.
Despite himself, he smiled, loving how innocent and fragile she looked as she slept. He ought to have been frowning, because really, what the hell had he been thinking letting her seduce him last night?
You weren’t thinking.
No, thinking hadn’t played a part in yesterday’s lovemaking. Feeling, that’s what he’d been doing. Feeling her lips against his, her soft body beneath him, her tight inner muscles clamped over his—
He frantically attempted to reroute his brain but it was too late. His cock hardened at the memory, and he shifted uncomfortably, which unfortunately drew Morgan out of her slumber.
Blinking a couple of times, she finally opened her eyes and gave a tiny yawn. “Mornin’,” she murmured.
Again he couldn’t help but smile. Couldn’t help touching her, either. He stroked her bare shoulders, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from her. “That feels nice.” She closed her eyes again. “Don’t stop.”
Although every logical part of his brain told him he should stop, his hands did the exact opposite. He ran his fingers up and down her back, gently kneading her muscles. Her skin felt hot and smooth beneath his palm.
He loved her body, her soft curves and small defined muscles. He moved his hand lower, dragging it over her round bottom. When he squeezed her buttocks, she let out a moan, then cranked one eye open and fixed him with a pointed look. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to want to get jiggy with it, you do realize that, right?”
He threw his head back and laughed. Damn, he’d missed her. Only Morgan could say things like “get jiggy with it” and not sound like a complete idiot.
“Maybe I want to get jiggy, did you think of that?”
She arched one perfect eyebrow and grinned. “What are you waiting for then?”
And yep, here was another thing he’d missed, her perpetual eagerness to get him naked. It had always given him a slight ego boost, how she never seemed to tire of him. She was always ready, always willing to give herself to him. And it was a two-way street. In the two years they’d been together, he hadn’t tired of her, either. If anything, his need for her heightened each time they made love.
Sex, a sharp voice said. Not love.
Quinn swallowed. Right, he had to remember that. This…thing…between them had nothing to do with love. Whatever they felt for each other, well, it didn’t matter. This was an affair, nothing more.
“Stop stalling,” she teased, rolling over.
She arched her back, stretching it, and her breasts jutted out enticingly. There were faint red splotches on those luscious mounds, the result of his stubble chafing her delicate skin. Call him crazy and primitive, but he liked seeing his mark on her.
“Seriously, Quinn, if you don’t make a move I’m going downstairs to make some coffee.”
“You’d choose coffee over me?” he mocked.
“Yep.”
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Leaning over the side of the bed, he rummaged on the floor for his wallet and fished out another condom. He had it on and was kneeling between her legs before she could even respond.
“Someone’s a little overeager,” she said with a smirk.
He wiped the smirk right off her face by sliding his shaft inside her. Two years of pent-up lust made it difficult to keep a slow pace, but he gave it a valiant effort, teasing her with languid strokes that had her moaning restlessly. The overwhelming desire torpedoing through his body shocked him, troubled him, but there was no stopping it. Morgan felt so warm and soft under him, her hair mussed up from sleep, her blue eyes glazed with what could only be described as bliss. This woman aroused him beyond belief, and it wasn’t long before the lazy tempo he’d set transformed into a series of hurried, staccato thrusts.
Quinn slid his hands underneath her body, cupping her firm ass and lifting her so he could get deeper. But it wasn’t deep enough. He wanted more, wanted all of her, wanted to bury himself so deep inside her and never come out. The all-consuming need startled the hell out of him. He tried battling it, pushing it away, but then Morgan wrapped her legs around him, dug her heels into his buttocks and he gave up fighting.
With a groan, he pumped harder, Morgan’s breathy moans egging him on, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. And when he felt her muscles squeeze and contract, when he heard her cry of release, he promptly toppled right over that cliff. Pleasure seized his spine, searing a path to his groin and unleashing a climax so ridiculously powerful he lost the ability to breathe.
Gasping, he jerked inside her, burying his face against her neck. Her sweet feminine scent brought another spark of pleasure, her tight inner muscles milking him dry until he let out a hoarse breath and finally went still.
Christ. What just happened? The sex between them had always been good, but this…this was mind-blowing. He tried chalking it up to the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in two years, but he knew it was so much more than that.
It was Morgan.
Damn it, it had always been—and always would be—Morgan.
“Why haven’t you been with anyone since we broke up?”
Her quiet voice sliced through his thoughts, and for a moment he wondered if she was a mind reader. No, she was just way too intuitive for her own good.
He withdrew gently and got rid of the condom, then slid up into an upright position and rested his head against the headboard. “Didn’t have the time,” he said lightly.
She sat up, too, wrapping the sheet around her body. The knowing glimmer in her eyes unsettled him. “You’re lying again.”
Quinn shrugged. “I guess I just never met anyone who interested me enough.” He quickly turned the tables, anxious to get out of the hot seat. “Why haven’t you been with another man?”
“I don’t want another man,” she said simply, meeting his eyes. “I’ve never wanted anyone but you, Quinn.”
His throat went dry. He swallowed a few times, bringing much-needed moisture to his mouth. He’d intended to respond with a reminder that she shouldn’t get attached to him again, but what came out was, “You never call me Adam.”
Morgan looked startled. “What?”
Discomfort crept up his spine like ivy. “You don’t call me by my first name. Your father does, but he uses it to patronize me, or at least that’s what it seems like. But you…” He cleared his throat. “You never use it.”
She tucked her messy hair behind her ears and shot him an earnest look. “When we first met you told me you didn’t like people using your given name.”
You’re not people, he wanted to say, but bit back the words. He had no idea where this was all coming from. He’d never given much thought to the fact that she called him Quinn. The only person who’d ever called him Adam had been his mother, the woman who abandoned him in front of a bank when he was five years old never to be heard from again. His father, who took off the year before his mother’s departure, had called him “kid.” Everyone after that just used his last name. Quit fighting in school, Quinn. Clean your goddamn room, Quinn. His foster parents had never addressed him as anything else, and over the years the name stuck.
So why did it suddenly annoy him to hear it from Morgan?
“I wish you didn’t hate your name so much,” she added, reaching out and touching his arm. “It’s a great name.”
He swallowed again. “It brings back some crappy memories, that’s all.”
“Do you want me to stop calling you Quinn?”
Her bewilderment increased his uneasiness. With a shrug, he swung his legs around and hopped off the bed. “No, forget I said anything. I think I’m still half-asleep.”
He could feel her blue eyes focused on him as he retrieved his boxers and drew them up to his hips. Her confusion—and fascination—hung in the air, but he didn’t say another word on the subject. He walked over to the window and parted the curtains, letting the pale morning sun stream into the room.
“Let’s go make that coffee,” he said gruffly.
Morgan nodded and slid out of bed, bending down to pick up her discarded shorts and tank top. He admired her lithe, curvy body as she dressed, wanting to kiss her but knowing it was probably a good idea if he kept his distance. Kissing her, touching her, would only send them right back between the covers.
He pulled his jeans over his boxers, left them unbuttoned. He didn’t bother with a shirt, just followed her out of the room, his chest and feet bare. Morgan walked ahead of him, and he could tell from the slight tilt of her head she was still running their conversation over in her mind. Trying to figure out what the heck he’d been babbling about just now, no doubt.
Smothering a sigh, he trailed after her, surprising her—and himself—when he reached for her hand. She glanced at him for a brief second, puzzled, then laced her fingers through his and descended the steps. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was comfortable, even welcome.
The moment they reached the foot of the stairs, however, a startled curse broke through that silence.
Quinn swiveled his head just in time to see Morgan’s brother Tony enter the foyer from the living room doorway. The other man’s eyes, the same shade of blue as his sister’s, widened at the sight of them.
Tony looked from Quinn’s bare chest, to Morgan’s skimpy night wear, to their intertwined fingers, and said, “What the hell is going on here?”