“You look very sexy in it.”
“You always look sexy.”
Quinn grins. “Are we having a compliment contest?”
I brush my lips over his jaw. “Are we?”
He wraps his arms around my neck as I kiss his throat and neck. “I’m not sure. I think maybe we should stop talking and you know…”
“Kiss?”
“Uh-huh.”
I ease my hands out of his pockets and embrace him as I claim his mouth. I can feel his back muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. They move and flex as he strokes his hands over my shoulders. He makes small noises of contentment as I deepen the kiss and slip my tongue into his mouth. Everything about kissing him makes me smile, and happiness bubbles inside me. I open my eyes so I can see to manoeuvre us to the bed. There’s a slightly awkward moment where we both overbalance and then fall. Our kiss breaks as we laugh.
“That was not as romantic as I wanted it to be,” I confess.
Quinn giggles.
“They always seem to manage it with graceful ease in films.” I put on a purposefully grumbly voice.
Quinn laughs harder, but despite the happy sound, frustration lines his face.
I rest my forehead against his. “Do you need a moment?”
He swallows and nods. I close my eyes and stay where I am, with my forehead touching his. I feel the warmth of his breath on my skin and wait until his breathing becomes relaxed again. I’m not sure how long it takes, nor do I care.
“Okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Quinn smiles. “Where were we?”
“I think we were kissing before I unceremoniously tipped us onto the bed.”
He chuckles. “Kissing sounds good.”
I crash my mouth against his, feeling the velvet softness of his yielding lips. The happy, bubbly feeling returns, coalescing in my gut and gaining momentum in my groin. I thread my fingers through his and press his hands against the mattress on either side of his head. Our bodies fit together, and I’m hot and aching before long.
I end the kiss and stare into his eyes to ensure we’re still on the same page.
Quinn puts his hand against my heaving chest. “I want to…” An unspoken ‘but’ lingers in the air between us. He lowers his gaze, and his lips droop. His body tenses.
I stroke his hair and kiss his forehead. “It’s okay. You’re tired.”
“That sounds lame.”
“But it’s not.” I lean on my hip and elbow beside him and play with the buttons of his shirt.
“I’ll fall asleep if I stay like this.” He sits and leans onto his knees. “I’m sorry.”
I rub his back. “You don’t need to apologise.”
“Don’t I? I asked you to bring me back here, knowing how tired I was. I just…” He clenches his hands. “I hate how much control my sleep disorder has over my life. I wanted one amazing evening with you.” He sighs and looks at the ceiling. “Instead, I fell asleep during dinner, and now I’m too exhausted to follow through after inviting you to my room.”
I sit and put my hands over his, coaxing him to loosen his fists. “It’s all right. I understand.”
He looks around at me, eyes watery. “You must be so frustrated right now. I am.”
“A little. But why would I get pissy about something you can’t control?”
