Just Say Yes (13 page)

“Need any help?”

“Nope. I'm good.”

“Definitely wasn't debating that.”

The seductive lilt in her voice made him turn. “Get over here.”

She rushed toward him, their arms twining around each other as they pulled each other into a passionate kiss. And it likely would have become more if Tim hadn't smelled his French toast burning. “You're making me ruin breakfast,” he murmured against her lips.

“Who cares? This is already the best meal I've ever had.” But she released him anyway. Quinn took a quick look around at the food occupying the counters as he removed the toast from the griddle. She let out a delighted laugh. “Stop. You did
not
remember me telling you about all of this.”

But he had remembered. He remembered everything that had to do with Quinn. All around them were the weird foods she'd told him she loved during their hitchhiking adventure. The bacon and jelly on toast, the popcorn and milk, the French toast with cheese and ham—though he'd had to skip the ham because he didn't have any. He shrugged. “It's not a big deal.”

Quinn tugged on his arm, prompting him to turn around. The look she gave him was one he'd never forget: it was so heartfelt, sincere, and adoring, it nearly made him gasp. “It is a big deal.” She moved closer to him, slipping her arms around his waist. “You're literally the best boyfriend ever, you know that? Lauren brags about Scott, but I clearly got the better Jacobs brother.” Her words had an air of joking to them, but her look said she meant them.

Tim returned her hug, pulling her tightly to him. He was going to ignore the comment about being better than Scott, because reviewing the long list of reasons for why her words weren't true wasn't important in that moment. Or maybe he just didn't want to set her straight about it. Either way, he decided, for the first time in a long time, he wasn't going to think the worst of himself. He was going to bask in the fact that this gorgeous girl thought he was the best. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Quinn bit her lower lip. “You caught that?” She looked uncertain.

“Yup.” He kissed her softly.

“I just figured that since you called me your girl . . .” Quinn didn't finish her thought. She looked flustered. It was adorable. “I guess I should've waited until we talked about it. We still can . . . over breakfast. If you want. I mean, I shouldn't have assumed anything. I guess it's just wishful thinking. Or something. I . . . God, can you just kiss me again so I stop talking?”

Tim laughed as he pressed his mouth to hers again. “I want to be your boyfriend, Quinn.”

“You do?” Her blue eyes widened as a huge smile broke out across her stunning face.

“I do.” And with those words, Tim decided he was going to try to let it all go. To stop thinking in negatives. He'd let
I can't
s and
I don't deserve
s run his life for a long time. And while there was really no denying that he didn't deserve Quinn, he was going to try to let himself have her anyway. At least for as long as she wanted to be his.

Writer's Block

Quinn twirled her phone in her hand as she worked on her article. The damn thing was becoming nearly impossible. How the hell was she supposed to convey the past month and a half of her life in words when the experience defied them? It was the first time in her twenty-seven years that Quinn felt words weren't enough. She suddenly understood why Shakespeare had found it necessary to invent so many—the English language was suddenly sorely lacking.

Her phone vibrated in her hand, and she smiled before even glancing at the screen. It had been two days since she'd spent the night with Tim, and they had been in almost constant contact since. Since Tim was always scheduled to work Thursday through Saturday nights unless he put in for time off well in advance, she hadn't seen him since their night together. And odds were she wouldn't see him tonight either, though she was giving serious thought to waiting until he got off work and showing up at his apartment.

I'm peeling potatoes at work, and it's making me think of you.

Quinn chuckled quietly as she read his text, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about.
I'm trying really hard to see the compliment in that.

Oh, it's a compliment. Believe me.

Explain it to me,
she typed back.

I'm sitting here, thinking about how I want nothing more than to be peeling layers of clothing off of you to reveal your soft skin underneath.

Quinn blushed even though doing so was ridiculous. Tim had seen every inch of the soft skin he was referring to Wednesday night, and then again yesterday morning before she'd hurried off to change before going to work. But reading his dirty words while she was at her desk was equal parts embarrassing and arousing. More arousing, if she were being honest with herself. She forced her fingers to formulate a response.
I think I'm speechless.

HA! I'll record the day on my calendar.

Way to ruin the mood, wise guy.
Quinn couldn't contain her smile. She loved this flirty banter, the ease with which she and Tim communicated.

Let me make it up to you.

How?
Quinn bit her lower lip, hoping like hell sex was in some way involved in his plans.

I should be able to leave tonight around 1. Let me pick you up afterward and take you home to my place.

Quinn wanted to high-five herself.
Why don't I just meet you at your apartment around 1:30?

I'm not sure exactly what time I'll get out of there, and I'd rather you weren't out alone at that time of night. Especially since you won't be able to get into my apartment. Can I pick you up? Please?

Quinn wondered if her inner feminist should be offended that Tim didn't think her capable of taking care of herself enough to make it to his apartment unscathed, but she was too busy fawning over his concern for her. She'd thought about asking him to stay at her apartment but had reconsidered when she'd realized he would need to stop at home first to get a change of clothes. And putting off getting Tim naked wasn't on her agenda.
Sure. Just text me when you're leaving work and I'll be ready.

Great. See you later. Can't wait.

Quinn wasn't sure she'd be able to wait either.

•   •   •

It had been a long night of barking out orders and helping put out fires. Literally. Tim loved his job. He was good at it, it paid reasonably well, and it was fun. But with a certain gorgeous woman waiting for him, he had wanted the night over before it even started. So when the dinner menu closed at eleven, Tim went into drill-sergeant mode, ordering his team to clean up dinner service, restock the walk-in, and do any prep work that needed to be completed for the next day as quickly as possible.

A couple of his guys stayed on until the bar closed at two in case anyone wanted to order appetizers or simple sandwiches, but everything else had to be wrapped up and put away for the next service. Finally, at twelve forty-six, everything was cleaned and organized, and Tim could get the hell out of there. He yelled his good-byes as he exited the restaurant and climbed into his truck. Then he shot Quinn a quick text to let her know he was on his way.

He had barely had time to put his truck in park before Quinn was walking out of her apartment building. He quickly jumped out to greet her properly. “Hey, you,” he murmured as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Hey, yourself. You smell—”

“Gross. Don't try to sugarcoat it,” he said on a laugh as he grabbed her bag before resting his forehead against hers. “I missed you.”

“Mmm, I missed you too.” Quinn kissed him quickly before pulling away and taking the last two steps toward the passenger-side door Tim had opened for her. “Now take me home so we can get reacquainted.”

Tim let out a low chuckle. “I like your style,” he said as he closed her door. He climbed into the driver's seat, reached for Quinn's hand, and entwined their fingers.

He felt Quinn's gaze on him, so he chanced a brief look in her direction. “What?”

Quinn looked . . . smug. “Nothing. I just didn't know you were such a romantic.”

Tim's brow furrowed. “I'm not.”

Quinn lifted their hands. “Oh really?”

“Holding my girlfriend's hand is romantic?”

“Well, no, not just that. But getting out to open my door, telling me you missed me, cooking my favorite foods for breakfast. That stuff is romantic.”

“Huh.” Tim was puzzled. It wasn't that he didn't want to be romantic; he'd just never pegged himself as the type.

“It's not a slight or anything.” Quinn laughed. “It's a compliment, I swear. Haven't any of your other girlfriends ever called you romantic?”

Here's where things get awkward.
“I've never really had a girlfriend.”

His peripheral vision caught Quinn's head turning slowly toward him like she was auditioning for
The Exorcist
. “What? Never?”

Tim shook his head. “Most respectable girls would rather not date a drug addict. Shocking, isn't it?”

“But you've been off drugs for a long time.”

“I'm not saying I haven't been with women.” He noticed Quinn sink back into her seat slightly.
Okay, maybe I didn't need to say that part
. “I just haven't really
dated
any.”
Fuck, she's going to think I'm a manwhore.

“What about when you were a teenager?”

Tim turned onto his street and into his building's parking lot. He pulled into his spot and cut the engine before looking at Quinn. “I started doing drugs when I was fifteen. That and rehab took up most of my time.”

Quinn sat speculatively. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “That means you never got to experience the awkwardness that is the teenage dating scene.” Excitement was nearly emanating off of her.

Tim couldn't figure out what she was so happy about. “No, I guess not. Though I can't say I'm sorry I missed it.”

“Oh, you're not going to miss it, my friend. We're totally going out on a teenage date.”

“We are, are we?” Tim was definitely amused. Excited Quinn was completely adorable.

“We are. When can we go?”

“Well, I have to work tomorrow. I need to be in by three. I was hoping to not get out of bed until two at the earliest.” A sly smile overtook his face as he spoke.

Quinn tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Okay, so tomorrow is out,” she said, returning his smile. “What about Sunday?”

“I'm yours all day.”

“Awesome.” Quinn turned and hopped out.

Tim followed her. “Wait. Aren't you going to tell me what we're going to do on this date?”

“Nope,” she said, not slowing her pace.

“But isn't it customary for the guy to plan it?”

“Don't argue with me. It's probably the only time I'll get to be the more experienced one.”

They walked to his door, and Quinn waited for Tim to unlock it. But before he did, he leaned in to her, his mouth tantalizingly close to her ear. “I have a few other things I'd like to experience,” he whispered.

Quinn released a low hum of arousal. “Do they involve us naked?”

“Every last one.”

“Then you'd better open the door so we can get started.”

“Gladly,” he murmured before sucking her earlobe into his mouth. He quickly released her so he could open his door and stepped back so Quinn could enter first. But he didn't let her get too far inside before he pushed the door shut, grabbed and spun her around, and pinned her against the wall. Tim claimed her mouth as she let out low moans of satisfaction. The kiss lasted for a few more minutes before he finally forced himself to pull away. “Damn, I need a shower.”

“What do you know?” Quinn said as she stepped around him and started walking down the hall. “I could use one too.” She pulled her purple racerback over her head and let it fall to the floor like a bread crumb for him to follow. It took Tim a second to notice that she wasn't wearing a bra.
Could she be any more fucking perfect?
She paused at the door to his bathroom, her arm draped across her bare breasts. “You coming?”

“You keep asking me that. The only response I have is ‘God, I fucking hope so,'” Tim muttered as he stalked toward her.

Quinn giggled as she stepped into the bathroom and out of sight. But he heard her voice clearly. “Better bring a condom, then.”

Nope, she couldn't possibly get any more perfect.

•   •   •

Their shower sex had been passionate and frantic. Hands were everywhere: groping asses, running through hair, dragging across wet skin. And after their touching had brought each of them nearly to the brink, Tim pushed inside of her and thrust from behind with everything he had.

Her groans of “harder,” “faster,” “more,” caused him to piston his hips like a man possessed.

When he felt his sac draw up and the familiar zing begin to shoot up his spine, he reached around and rubbed his fingers over her sensitive clit. The gasp she let out signaled that he'd found his mark, and he kept working her with his fingers as his cock swelled inside her with his impending release.

He felt her body tighten as he brought her closer to the edge.

“Oh, fuck. Tim,” she mewled in ecstasy.

“Come for me, baby.”

She went rigid in his arms as her orgasm raced through her body. Her moans echoed off the bathroom walls as he thrust erratically into her, finally erupting with a guttural sound of his own.

Once their orgasms had receded and their breathing began to return to normal, Quinn turned in his arms. “Shower sex may be my favorite.”

Tim smiled. “Don't go making your mind up just yet. I have some more tricks up my sleeve.”

She looked up at him, her blue eyes gazing adoringly into his green ones. “I'll delay judgment then.” And then she lifted onto her tiptoes and kissed him. The kind of soul-searing kiss that made his heart want to explode out of his chest.

Tim cupped her jaw to deepen the kiss, his thumb brushing over her cheek. They stayed that way until the water started to get cold, then quickly finished cleaning up, toweled off, and made their way to the bedroom. Tim wished he had a round two in him, but he was fucking exhausted. And Quinn seemed to be in the same boat, as she nestled into his side, her head on his chest, and immediately fell asleep. Just before he dozed off himself, Tim thought he might just be the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

•   •   •

“Why the hell do they put water everywhere? It's like they want you to fail.” Tim was exasperated as he fished his ball out of the water for the second consecutive time as he tried to navigate hole number two.

“They're sadists,” Quinn joked as she watched Tim drop the ball onto the green carpet and shake the water off his hands. Despite Tim's gripe, she was so glad she'd chosen miniature golf as their teenage date.

Tim's eyes couldn't hide his excitement when they'd first pulled up. “I haven't been miniature golfing since I was little,” he had said.

“They have an arcade too,” Quinn added.

“You'd better not be toying with me, woman.”

Ten minutes later, they had chosen their clubs, picked their balls, and grabbed a scorecard. Quinn had tried to tell him that keeping score wasn't necessary, but Tim had insisted. A point he was probably regretting since he seemed determined to hit every water feature on the course.

“Pick up your ball. We need to move on to the next one,” Quinn gently commanded as she grew increasingly wary of the line building behind them.

“I didn't get it in yet.”

“You only get six strokes,” she reminded him.

“I only took four.”

“Hitting the water counts as two.”

Tim swiped his ball off the ground as he jokingly stalked toward the third hole. “I hate this game. Worst awkward date ever.”

Quinn shook her head as she laughed at his antics. Her mom had made her feel guilty about not coming over for dinner that night since she hadn't been over recently, but watching Tim pretend to have a bad time was totally worth it. Quinn could see the truth: the lopsided smile, the crinkling of the skin by his eyes, the smooth gait. Tim was having a blast, and they'd only just begun.

“I think the reason I'm doing so poorly is because I'm lacking the proper motivation.”

Quinn tried to repress a smirk. “Oh, is
that
what the problem is? I knew it had to be something completely logical.”

Tim wagged a finger at her. “You think I'm kidding, but you'll soon see. Let's place a wager.”

“Okay. What?”

Tim stood stock-still and thought for a moment, completely oblivious to the
actual
teenagers waiting behind him.

“You guys may as well play through. This might take a while,” Quinn called to them.