Beneath the Surface (18 page)

“As hot as it is to see you in my clothes, I think I’d prefer you out of them. Take my shirt off.”

A moment of uncertainty skittered through her at his command. It’d been a long time since a man had seen her naked . . .

“What’s the matter, Quinn? Having second thoughts?”

“No . . .” she quickly answered, afraid he’d get the wrong idea and change his mind.

A few seconds ticked by and he chuckled. Lord, she felt that throaty rumble roll right through her.

“You’re shy . . .” He sounded surprised, like the thought had never occurred to him before. “How long has it been since you’ve done this—been with a man?”

His brow arched, waiting for her to answer. She was embarrassed to tell him. This wasn’t something she would normally talk about. How incredibly unromantic was it to have this conversation right now? She took his hand to tug him closer. He didn’t budge. He wasn’t going to do this unless he was absolutely sure it was what she wanted. She should feel relieved by that, but instead his hesitancy frustrated her. Again, he was shattering her preconceptions about him and she didn’t like it. The more she discovered about him, the more she realized she didn’t really know Asher Tate, and the deeper in love she fell with him.

Heat flooded her cheeks. “Over two years,” she confessed softly.

Understanding softened his eyes and he reached up, gently brushing the back of his knuckles against her cheek. “I won’t hurt you, Quinn. I promise I’ll be careful. And baby, believe me, you’ve got nothing to be shy about. Come on, lift your arms up.”

His compliment gave her enough courage to do as he instructed, but it didn’t stop her heart from nervously hammering inside her chest. This was really happening . . .

He gathered the hem and pulled it over her head. The cool air kissed her nipples, drawing them tighter. Her breath stalled in her lungs, awaiting his response as his eyes devoured her.

The air left his lips with a reverent curse as he lifted his hand and gently cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her turgid nipple. “So beautiful . . .”

He rose from the couch and scooped her up into his arms. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you upstairs. This couch is not the place for what I’m going to do to you.”

CHAPTER

21

A
sher’s husky promise sent a thrill racing through her. She felt weightless in his arms as he climbed the stairs with surprising speed. His steps were quick and determined as he crossed the room, heading straight for the bed. She was glad she’d left the bathroom light on, casting the bedroom in a soft, ambient glow.

He laid her down and hooked his fingers into the lace of her panties, slowly dragging them down her legs. She didn’t have time wrestle with the insecurity of being totally bare before him. He wasted no time loosening the string on his pajama pants, and freeing his erection. The gasp that caught in her throat was both awe and fear. The man standing before was undoubtedly the most magnificent male specimen she’d ever seen. Everything about him was huge, and every impressive inch was flesh-covered steel. She was torn between the impulse to indulge in this beautiful masculine gift or run for the hills, because Asher Tate was so out of her league, it wasn’t even funny.

Her awestruck hesitation must have shone on her face because that low masculine chuckle brought her gaze up to his. “Now you look like you’re having second thoughts.”

She swallowed past the dry click in her throat and shook her head—words failed her.

“You don’t have to do this, Quinn.”

“No, it’s not that . . .” She rose to her knees, fascination winning over fear. Raising a tentative hand she traced the line of his collarbone and followed the muscular mapping on his chest.

He inhaled a sharp hiss through clenched teeth, but other than the tension that seemed to hum beneath his skin, he didn’t move, giving her a chance to touch, to explore . . .

“You’re just so . . . beautiful.” It was a feminine word, but there wasn’t anything feminine about this man, and yet no other word could describe him more perfectly. Back up and over his shoulders, she ran her hands down the ropes of muscles flexing and straining over his biceps as he fought to allow Quinn her exploration.

With each touch her timidity began to ebb, emboldened by the effort it was costing him to give her this time to get familiar with his body. His hands curled into fists, the pattern of his breathing becoming chaotic as she traced her fingertips over to his ribs and the carved muscles of his abs—the V of flesh near his hips, guiding her to the erection straining just as large and proud as the man standing before her.

“And big . . .”

Her own breaths quickened at the glorious sight of him; the fire building in her core was making her melt. The ache he created in her was a soul-deep need only he could satisfy.

Her fingers drifted toward his length, but before she could touch him, his hand caught her wrist. Her eyes darted up to his in surprise, those simmering embers of uncertainty flaring back to life at the reminder of who was really in control here.

“I won’t hurt you, Quinn.”

His deep voice, normally smooth as aged whiskey, now sounded coarse as sandpaper. Goose bumps rose to her flesh in response and anticipation as she nodded her acquiescence. She believed him—trusted him with her body. It was her heart she wasn’t so sure about, because his tenderness, his concern for her, contradicted his denial that he cared for her, and she’d be a fool to let herself hope there was something here that wasn’t. This was just sex. That’s all it ever could be. And that was okay, because tomorrow was going to come soon enough.

He slid her hand up instead of down, past planes of his abs, over his chest, and around his neck as he climbed onto the bed. He lowered himself on top of her as they both went down to the mattress. Bracing his weight on his forearms, his hand slipped into her hair as his mouth took hers. His kiss was tempered now, more gentle than downstairs, but just as intoxicating.

His touch was teasing instead of demanding—lighter, exploring, like hers had been. It was sweet torture . . . He brushed the back of his knuckles against the outer swell of her breast, his thumb tracing the bottom curve, making her nipples ache for the attention he denied her.

She knew what he was doing and it was working—fanning her flame until the fire inside her took hold and became a raging inferno. With each passing second, her inhibitions were dissolving, her worry burning away until there was nothing left but raw, aching need. His fingertips brushed up her inner thigh, each sweep back and forth bringing him closer to her silken folds, only to draw back at the last moment.

She was burning up. Frustration made her bolder. He was showing her she wasn’t the insecure, unpracticed woman she thought. Giving her the time she needed to get more comfortable with herself, with him . . .

Quinn returned his kiss with more demand, her tongue doing the invading as she tugged him closer. Her hand dipped to the roadmap of his abs, and then lower. When she wrapped her fingers around his erection, it jerked in her hand and the throaty growl rumbling in his throat sounded like erotic torture. She was pushing him, edging him past the limits of his self-control, and the thrill it gave her to have this kind of effect on a man like Asher was a heady, intoxicating experience.

He’d masterfully worked her past her insecurities and doubts. The desire to be filled by him, to have him consuming her, quickly became her only thought, her only need. She stroked his length, and his hips rocked in rhythm with her hand. Moisture escaped him and slicked her palm. His whole body tensed above her, flagging restraint stringing his muscles tight, and he growled a curse that tasted absolutely delicious on her tongue.

“You have to stop touching me, Quinn. You’re not ready yet and I don’t want to hurt you.”

She thought she was ready, and she told him so. He proved her wrong by parting her slick folds and slipping two fingers deep inside her. She gasped at the invasion. As sweet as it felt, the stretch was almost more than she could handle. “You’re not ready. Just trust me . . .” he whispered beside her ear before kissing that sensitive spot on her neck.

She forced herself to relax into his touch, but the tension deep inside her grew impossibly tighter. When his mouth covered her breast, she couldn’t hold back her moan as his thumb found the bead of her sex and her walls tightened around his fingers. She was going to come. Never in her life had she been brought so high so fast. Her heart rioted in her chest, thundered in her ears. Her breaths were a ragged pant as she tried to warn him, “Asher, I’m . . .”

But she didn’t get any farther than that. Her confession died in her throat as his teeth grazed her nipple and then sucked the bud—hard. His fingertips stroked that perfect spot deep inside her and she shattered. A broken cry tore from her as she rode the euphoric wave of her release. At some point, his mouth found hers again, kissing her as if his very breath depended on it.

Her head was still spinning as he moved above her and she was vaguely aware of him reaching for the nightstand. She heard the tearing of a foil wrapper and a moment later he was settled between her legs, his erection hovering at her entrance. She felt liquid in his arms, her muscles relaxed and pliable. This was what he must have meant by ready, and she was glad he’d taken the time to prepare her, because she failed to fully appreciate his size until he entered her.

His mouth was on her neck, nipping and sucking as he eased himself inside. The invading fullness of him made her breath catch. She tensed.

He stopped moving. The quiver of his strained muscles and the fine sheen of sweat across his shoulder blades were proof of what his temperance was costing him. Asher didn’t strike her as a slow or particularly gentle lover. This was all about her right now—her comfort—her pleasure.

“Relax . . .” he whispered, his breath hot against the shell of her ear. His mouth returned to hers. That coaxing, courting kiss was back, and so was the spark of heat igniting her core. He didn’t advance, he just held his ground. When his hand slipped between them and found the bundle of nerves at the hood of her sex, a soft moan escaped her lips and the ache slowly began to build.

She returned his kiss with increasing demand, and soon she was writhing beneath him. She dragged her nails down his back and grabbed the tight muscles of his ass, urging him forward. Why wasn’t he moving?

“Just give me a minute,” he panted against her mouth. “Fuck, Quinn, you feel so amazing. So tight . . . I’m going to lose it if you don’t hold still.”

But he was driving her to the edge. His hand teasing the tight bundle of nerves, his mouth utterly pilfering hers . . . She wanted him home. Buried so deep she wouldn’t know where he ended and she began.

“Please . . .” she begged, kissing his neck. She was too close to her own release now. His pulse hammered against her tongue, a testament to his flagging control. She playfully nipped his skin and sucked away the sting as she bit her nails into his ass and nudged him farther. With a tortured groan, he relented and thrust forward, burying himself deep inside her. He felt incredible . . . The head of his cock hit that sensitive spot inside her and she gasped at the explosion of pleasure.

Asher’s restraint was shredded. He withdrew and drove home again, and again, and again. Her orgasm ripped through her at the same time a sharp bark of rapture tore from his throat. He pulsed against her core, her glove milking his release as wave after euphoric wave crashed into her.

Several minutes passed in silence as they worked to catch their breath. His forehead rested against her shoulder. She wasn’t sure what to say—what to expect from him now that it was over. God’s honest truth, she was speechless. Quinn never doubted sex with him would be anything other than incredible. She just wasn’t prepared for the melee of emotions to come barreling through her in the aftermath of her postorgasmic bliss. Perhaps she’d been naïve to believe she could handle it, to think that sex with him would change nothing, but when he braced his weight on his elbow and slowly lifted his head to meet her eyes, there was no denying the soul-shattering truth.

It changed everything . . .

Asher had been with more than his share of women in his day, but hands down, none had ever rocked his world like Quinn Summers. And by the look on her face, he’d venture a guess that he wasn’t the only one feeling the effects. Had he honestly thought this woman cold?—a shrew?—compared her to a porcupine? Nothing could be further from the truth. She was the hottest, sweetest thing he’d ever had the pleasure of taking to his bed, and now that he had her there, he had no intention of letting her go.

Did this complicate things? Hell yes. Was it worth it? Fuck yeah. Would she agree? Shit, he hoped so. If she wasn’t sold yet, he had the whole night to convince her otherwise.

“You all right?” he asked, reaching up to tuck a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear. He told her he’d be careful, gentle with her, but what had started as such certainly hadn’t ended that way. Shit, he hoped he didn’t hurt her. She was so damn tight, so tiny . . .

Quinn nodded but didn’t speak. He studied her a little bit longer while attempting to sort out the riot of emotions battering around inside his chest. The fullness in his heart was an uncomfortable pressure. This couldn’t be love—could it? He’d never had the experience before to know for sure, but his father seemed to think it was. The only thing he knew for sure was that he’d almost lost this woman tonight, and the thought of it terrified him. It made him want to wrap her up in his arms and never let go.

She broke his stare, looking a little uncertain—nervous? Maybe what she saw in him was scaring her as much as it did him. Fuck, he needed to get a handle on himself before he went and really freaked her out by telling her he was in love with her or some crazy shit like that. He might not know Quinn as well as he wanted to, but she wore those walls like a coat of armor. And he’d be willing to guess that there was a good reason for it.

That he was getting a glimpse of her now, unguarded, was a rare gift he wasn’t taking for granted. He could already sense her rallying the troops to re-erect those damn barriers. But before the hedging doubts could take root in her mind, he waged his own assault on her defenses and kissed her. The last thing he wanted was her regretting this, regretting him, but then wasn’t that just delaying the inevitable? If she truly knew him, would she really want him? Likely not . . . The only reason she was here at all was that she needed him.

When he tried to break their kiss, Quinn pulled him back to her. “Don’t leave . . .” she whispered between kisses. “Not yet.”

She thought he was leaving her? What kind of an asshole did she take him for? Someone who’d pull a bang and bail? Really? He was still inside her and getting hard again. His refractory period with this woman was nonexistent. But this condom wasn’t going to hold up for round two, and as much as he didn’t want to leave her, even for a quick dash to the bathroom, it was a necessary trip because he was not done with Quinn Summers. Not by a long shot.