Man Candy (31 page)

once.

I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

LATER IN THE NIGHT, after dinner

was over and the cake had been cut and

Alex and Nolan had danced for the first

time as a married couple, I was

wondering how much longer Jaime

wanted to stay when I heard the opening

bars to a familiar tune.

She was sitting on my lap—her idea,

not mine—and she grinned at me over

one shoulder. “Is this your song?”

Chills swept down my arms as I

heard the vocalist start to sing. “Who

knows how long I’ve loved you? You

know I love you still…”

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did. I remember

everything about you.”

A rush of affection for her made my

heart beat quicker. “Did you ask the

band to play it?”

She nodded. “I’m not much of a

singer, unfortunately, but if you’d like to

dance, I’m game.”

I stood, carefully setting her on her

feet and taking her hand. On the dance

floor, she melted into my arms, and I

held her close, breathing in the sweet

scent of her perfume. I listened to the

words my mother used to sing and

wished she were here, hoped she would

be proud of me, missed her presence in

my life. “She’d have loved this, you

know. You and I together.”

“Your mom?”

“Yes.”

“That makes me happy.”

“Me too.”

She laid her head on my shoulder.

“This is the longest I’ve ever stayed at a

wedding. I usually bail by now.”

“Does that mean you’re having fun?”

“Yes. But being this close to you

makes me want to go have fun

somewhere else.”

“How about my place? Would you

like to see it?”

“Yes,” she said emphatically. “I’ve

been dying to see it.”

The song ended and we applauded

before heading over to Alex and Nolan

to say goodbye. They scolded us for

leaving so early but looked happy to see

us leaving together.

“Thanks again for the toast, sweet

pea.” Alex grabbed her in a quick hug.

“It meant a lot to us.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I

know it was a little icky sweet, but I did

mean what I said.”

“Of course you did.” I put my arm

around her. “I think this is the start of a

whole new icky sweet you.”

I got the dagger eyes in return.

“Don’t start.”

THIRTY-ONE

JAIME

“QUINN, it’s beautiful.” I turned

around inside his cavernous living room,

taking in the high ceilings, shiny wood

floors, brick walls, and huge windows.

His furniture was modern and masculine

with a touch of traditional—brown

leather couches, an Eames chair, an

antique bookcase. “And look at that

view.” I walked over to the window and

looked out.

“Incredible, right?” He switched off

the lights. “It’s even better in the dark.”

I laughed. “What isn’t?”

He came up behind me and wrapped

his arms around my waist, burying his

face in my neck. It was the kind of

embrace I’d have squirmed out of with

anyone else, or maybe even just a few

months ago with him.

Now I liked the closeness I felt when

he held me. I liked feeling his body

against mine even with our clothes on,

not even knowing whether it would lead

to sex.

But it had damn well better.

It had been too long, and we’d been

looking at each other too hungrily all

night, and a separation—however brief

—loomed ahead.

Quinn kissed my throat, swept his

tongue over my skin. “I love you so

much. I’m so glad you’re here.”

I never thought those words would

make me happy, but now I wanted to

wrap myself up in them, roll around in

them, drown in them.

“Me too.” I tilted my head to the

side, feeling the tingle begin between my

legs. When I felt the nudge of his

swelling cock against my ass, I reached

behind me and rubbed my hand over it.

“I missed you so much.”

Worried he’d get the wrong idea, I

twisted to face him, looped my arms

around his lower back. “I mean, I missed

everything, Quinn. Not just the sex—I

missed everything about you. I missed

laughing with you, talking with you. I

missed falling asleep next to you at night

and waking up with you in the morning.”

“You did?” He sounded surprised.

“You won’t even let me touch you when

you’re falling asleep.”

“I know, but it’s more…” I thought

for a second. “It’s just knowing you’re

there. That you’ll be there the next day. I

like that feeling, and I never thought I

would.”

“Good. Because I plan on sticking

around.” He went back to kissing my

neck. “I might never get enough of you,

but I’m sure as hell going to try. Does

that scare you?”

“Nope.” I slid my hands down over

his ass, pulling him into me. “Believe it

or not, deep down I’ve always wanted

you to try. I just wouldn’t admit it. It was

always you, Quinn.”

He picked his head up and looked

me in the eye. “It always will be.”

We kissed, kicking off shoes,

unzipping, unbuttoning, unhooking. We

let our beautiful clothes fall to the floor

where we stood, anxious to feel one

another skin to skin. He pulled out my

hairpins and slid his fingers into my hair.

When we were naked and frantic and

unsatisfied with lips and hands and

tongues, craving a deeper connection,

Quinn took my hand. “I want you in my

bed.”

He led me up the stairs and into his

bedroom, a large, airy space with floor

to ceiling windows and a king-sized

platform bed. There was probably more

furniture in the room, but I didn’t notice

it.

We fell onto the bed and into each

other. We kissed as if it had been years,

our limbs twined like ivy. I could hardly

breathe, but it didn’t scare me. I wanted

him to smother me, wanted to suffocate

on his love. “I need you,” I whispered

over and over again.

It was an unfamiliar kind of need,

physical
and
emotional—my body

demanded he fill the aching hollow

inside it and my heart begged to escape

my chest and be cradled by his. I looked

up at him as he slid inside me, his face

lit solely by the nighttime lights of the

city below. “Quinn.” My voice shook

with the panic I felt at finally letting the

feeling overtake me, at not being able to

describe it.

“I know,” he said, rolling over me,

rocking into me as my eyes closed in

ecstasy. “I feel it.”

Thank God
, I thought as he filled me.

Thank God I don’t have to find words.

All I had were gasps and sighs,

inarticulate cries of pleasure and pain,

and breathless moments of agony at the

peak, my hands clutching and pulling him

closer, closer, closer…would it ever be

enough?

And then I had tears, welling up and

spilling over as our eyes locked and

breath mingled and bodies contracted

around one another’s in a long,

suspended moment of euphoric release.

My fear was gone.

“I’m sorry,” I wept once I could talk.

“I don’t know why I’m crying. I swear

I’m happy.”

“I know why.” He kissed my

forehead. “And it’s OK.”

“Are you going to tease me about

this tomorrow?”

“No, sweet pea. I’m not.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m going to tease you about it for

the rest of our lives.”

I laughed, swatting him on the butt.

“Figures.”

“You OK with that?” He brushed my

hair off my face.

“With what?”

“The fact that I want this for the rest

of my life.”

My stomach swooshed, but it was a

good kind of swoosh. The kind of

swoosh you feel on a rollercoaster—

equal parts trepidation and excitement.

“Honestly? Yes. I’m OK with that.

Tonight when I made the toast, I said it

was Alex and Nolan who made me

believe in love, but you know it wasn’t

just them.”

He smiled. “I know.”

“I don’t know how you did it.”

“I didn’t, Jaime—you did. I fell in

love with you, but you had to open

yourself up to it. And you did.”

“Eventually.”

“Eventually. And I think once you

felt it, you saw it in others. Not just as

something beautiful but fleeting and

superficial, but as something deeper.”

“I did.” I thought for a moment. “It’s

like the difference between a wedding

and a marriage. A wedding is all about

the show, but a marriage is about

commitment you can’t see. All those

things you said to me at Alex’s birthday

finally made sense.”

“Good. Does this mean you want to

get married?”

My heart stopped. “You’re killing

me. One thing at a time, please.”

“That wasn’t a no. I’ll take it.” He

kissed my lips, his tongue teasing inside

them.

“I do love you, Quinn. And it
is
real,

even though I’ve always thought you

were too good to be true.”

“I hope you always think that,” he

said, “even when I’m old and bald and

fat and can’t get it up anymore.” He

picked up his head. “Forget I said that.

I’ll always get it up for you.”

I laughed, locking my legs around

him. “I’ll hold you to it, love bug.”

THE NEXT MORNING, Quinn ran out

for coffee and bagels while I lounged

around his condo in one of his T-shirts.

When he got back, we were going to

compare calendars and check out some

resorts in the Caribbean—Quinn wanted

to take me on vacation, and I’d gleefully

said yes.

I dug my phone out of my purse and

checked messages, and then I couldn’t

resist checking Instagram. He’d taken a

bunch of goofy pictures of me this

morning, despite my protests and many a

pillow thrown at his head.

Sure enough, there was one of me,

but I was sleeping soundly, my dark hair

a bedraggled mess on the white

pillowcase, but my expression serene.

He must have snuck it this morning,

because the light was soft and pale.

My breath caught as I read the

caption:
You know I will.

Nothing else, no silly hashtags or

jokes, just four simple words from the

song we’d danced to last night, his

childhood lullaby. I smiled.

Someone else might have wanted a

more obvious declaration for the world

to see, or maybe have wondered, you

will
what?
But he knew me. And I knew

I could finish it a million ways…love

you, respect you, tease you, support you,

laugh with you, talk to you, listen to you,

stay with you. Always.

I will, too, Quinn.

I will too.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my husband and daughters, for

making it possible for me to do what I

love, for understanding my silences and

distraction, and for reminding me how

beautiful real life is.

To Jenn Watson, publicist, therapist, and

so much more. I love you. Thank you for

hatching me out of that egg.

To Melissa Gaston, PA/admin

extraordinaire, you make my life so

much easier in so many ways! You’re the

best!

To everyone at Social Butterfly PR,

especially Hillary Suppes (congrats,

new mama!) and Candi Kane (thanks for

pizza, shoes, and all you do). I

appreciate you!

To Rebecca Friedman, agent and friend.

You are truly lovely.

To my beta readers, thank you for the

feedback and encouragement.

To my proof readers, Laura Foster

Franks, Amanda Maria, Angie Owens…

love your eagle eyes!

To Lauren Blakely, for generous advice,

always.

To Carly Phillips, Erika Wilde, and RS

Grey. Thank you so much!

To book bloggers, who do so much for

indie authors. I am so grateful—thank

you, thank you, thank you, especially

Give me Books for organizing Man

Candy events!

To Lauren Luman (welcome to Team

Harlow!) and all my Harlots for love,

laughs, and lots of inspiration.

To all my readers, who know that man

candy might not be nutritious, but it sure

can make you feel ambitious.