I continued to kiss her, long and deep as my hands moved to the button on her jeans. I slid my hand down past the lace of her panties to where her hot core begged to be touched. I ran my fingers along the sensitive skin, smiling when she pressed into my hand, searching for what she wanted.
I didn't make her wait. I needed to feel her just as much. I pushed a finger inside her wetness leaning in as she moved against me, looking for more. She sighed appreciatively as I worked her body with my digits, adding a second to my assault. “That’s it, baby, take what you need,” I leaned in kissing her throat, rubbing my thumb against her clit. It didn’t take her long, and she bit into my shoulder as she cried out. I smiled, feeling her pulsing around my fingers.
“Don’t go. Stay with me,” I said softy.
“Okay,” she breathed heavily against me.
I kissed her, totally taken by the dazed look in her eyes, I moved to put her clothes back in place when her hands stopped me and she gave me a slight shake of her head. Her hand moved to my belt and she tugged me to her.
“You’re not finished,” she said, her fingers moving to unbuckle the belt and unfasten the button of my jeans. My dick turned to steel, throbbing painfully.
“Quinn,” I warned.
“You wanted to come in here, Keaton. You started it. Finish it.” She held my gaze, confident and demanding. I swallowed hard, this side of Quinn was new.
“I’m not fucking you in an airport bathroom,” I said. I tried to mean it, but I was already reaching for her. She gave me a satisfied smile, knowing she had me exactly where she wanted me.
“Shut up and take off your pants,” she smiled.
And she said I was trouble.
LONG DISTANCE SUCKS.
It feels like life exists in snapshots of time. Time together. Time apart. Phone calls. Facetime. There is a lot of space to fill. It wasn’t always the easiest thing, but we were managing. Each phone call moved us forward, and hopefully closer to the day I would move to New York. I couldn’t wait until we didn’t have to deal with the distance anymore. Until then we were a series of conversations and stolen moments together.
"I MISS YOU."
Keaton’s voice carried the hint of a pout that I found more than endearing.
"I miss you," I returned. I really did.
"Come to Orlando," he asked for the twentieth time in two weeks.
"Keaton," I warned. He was relentless.
I heard the sigh and the slight huff across the phone line. It made me smile.
"Just come," he said softly. "I'll make it worth your while." There was a promise in his tone and I had no doubt that he would follow through.
"I know you would," I agreed.
"Then why do you keep saying no?" he asked.
One thing I'd learned about Keaton already was that he was a man who was used to getting exactly what he wanted. Apparently I was trying his patience.
"I have a job," I started.
"One that doesn't even pay you," he pointed out.
"One that will get me to New York," I countered.
He sighed again, "I miss you."
I couldn't hide my smile.
"I'm not used to missing someone. It sucks," he said.
"I'll be there in a week and you can spend the entire time not missing me."
"Trust me, I plan on taking advantage of every moment you are here."
"Good. Because I'm going to want to be taken advantage of."
"HOW WAS YOUR
day?" I asked.
"It sucked. How was yours?" He sounded distant and highly irritable. I had learned that moods like this needed to be navigated with caution.
"Want to talk about it?" I asked.
"Not really," he said. I heard the pop of a top and imagined him leaned against the kitchen counter with a bottle of beer.
I waited, not saying anything. If I knew him like I thought I did he would take two swallows of his drink and he'd start talking again.
"I am at a total standstill today. I deleted two chapters. It's all shit. I have no idea where this book is going and I have to have stuff to Parker next week. I have nothing," he vented.
"What about your outline?" I asked. Keaton had entire notebooks of notes and plans for each of his books.
"The outline is shit. I need a new plan. But there's nothing. I'm completely void of any creativity," he moaned.
Writing woes weren't anything I could help him with. I didn't have any ideas that would help him find his direction, but I had learned to make a great sounding board.
"Why don't we talk it out?" I suggested.
"Eh," he grumbled.
"Tell me where you're hung up, what's happening?" I pushed.
After a long pause he finally started in on the plot, rambling about pieces of the story. I added in encouragement or questions where I could, but this was really about him talking it out for himself.
I settled in against the pillows of my bed and listened. Just the sound of his voice was sexy. It was seduction all on its own. Even the most mundane of conversations had me feeling butterflies. He sparked something in me. I was more than happy to listen to him go on for hours.
"YOU LEFT YOUR
toothbrush here," Keaton said. It was late. I'd been out with Lily catching up on some much needed girl time.
"I know," I yawned as I crawled under my covers.
"So you did that on purpose?” he asked.
"Yep. I also left some perfume, a hairbrush and some shampoo," I said.
"You moving in?" he teased.
"Don't want you to forget me when I'm not around," I smiled.
"Not likely."
"Good, saves me from having to leave my hair dryer behind next time," I laughed.
"I kind of like having your stuff around," he said quietly. It gave me goose bumps. He always used that quiet voice when whatever he said surprised him.
I didn't comment, afraid his admission would spook him. He was a recovering playboy after all. Pink toothbrushes and girlie shampoo weren't the norm.
Still the comment made my heart flutter.
LONG DISTANCE SUCKED.
It made my balls blue and my temper short. It should be the perfect solution. I didn't have to worry about entertaining Quinn every day and I had tons of down time to do whatever the hell I wanted.
But I wanted her. I wanted her hot little body beneath mine. I wanted more than a stupid phone call each night.
Yeah, it fucking sucked. I wasn't always the most patient man and there were times when I questioned my sanity when it came to starting this whole thing.
But then I thought about her. I imagined her smile or heard her breathy voice on the other end of the line and I didn't care anymore. There was something about her that made me want to do it all over again.
I WATCHED HER
sleep, the curve of her bare hip, the dip of her waist. The way the sheets clung to her thigh was the best thing to wake up to. Watching her like this, peaceful in slumber she looked like an angel. I was completely hooked.
I've always been a go getter. I go after what I want and I get it. I wanted Quinn and I'd pushed my way back into her life until she let me stay. Now, she was in my bed looking like a fucking goddess.
Now that I had her, now that she was here, I had no idea what I was supposed to do next.
I was falling under her spell, more every day. Falling and flailing. Falling because it was effortless, flailing because I knew there would come a time when I would fail at being enough.
She left me feeling dazed. I’ve never known how to be a boyfriend. The only thing I had going for me was that she seemed to be happy. I didn't know what I was doing right, but I hoped I could keep doing it.