“Oh God.” I moan. “Don’t st-stop. Please?” He has me practically begging him and he’s barely started.
I attempt to reach down between us so I can feel him, but he moves my hand away from his dick. “If you touch me, there’s no stopping me. I want you, but not with a house full of people.”
“So, after they leave?”
His mouth is still very busy with my chest. “The second they leave.” He licks. I moan. “I’m locking us away in here, stripping you naked. We’ve waited long enough, love.”
“What about Saffie?”
“Saffie can sod off. She has headphones.”
I giggle at his angry tone. I know he doesn’t mean it. He adores his little sister. “You’d better stop, Cooke. I can’t take much more.”
With one more swipe, he pulls his head out of my shirt. “As soon as they leave, meet me in here.”
“But the mess.”
“Will wait.”
“Yes.” I kiss him softly. “It will.”
Now, how do I get rid of my friends?
Just kidding.
A little.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Cooke
I’ve been waitingfor months for my turn to speak. You have no idea what it’s been like for me. Well, now is my chance to say it’s been hell. I wasn’t joking when I told Quinn it was love at first sight for me. I guess it wasn’t for her. I know my girl, though. She’s too afraid to admit it, fearing the truth will somehow impact my feelings. On the contrary, it would make me feel more secure.
Sure, I’m confident about many things, even women, but not when it comes to the beguiling Quinn Maxwell. The night of our first chat, I couldn’t sleep afterward. I was tempted to call again just so I could see those piercing blue eyes and the sleepy hair and hear her voice, like an angel’s, soft and sweet.
When I finally did work up the nerve to call her, she shocked the bloody hell out of me with her sense of humor. She’s hilarious. In my experience, women aren’t that funny. Now, before you tell me I’m being sexist, let me explain, or maybe clarify. The women who hang out with professional rugby arseholes aren’t funny. There. Better? I’m sure I’m overgeneralizing. Saffie’s funny, after all, but she’s my sister.
Anyway, back to that night I first saw her. Ian knew I was in trouble that day. For one, he couldn’t believe I’d called her back. And at the gym, no less. That was intentional. I wanted her to see the team space, the logo. I wanted her to know I wassomebody—a professional athlete. It worked too, except the girl knew nothing about rugby. My efforts to show her I was wealthy, famous, and sought after fell on deaf ears. And that, my friends, was beyond appealing.
The night she called, distraught, because of her scooter, her basement, and that woman, I was so angry, I wanted to break something. I’d still like to ring Kara’s neck. But Quinn was so far away, it seemed impossible to help. But I went against team rules and flew to the States to do what I could to help her. I had hell to pay when I returned. Benched at first, but they needed me badly, so it was short-lived. My mates were mad as hell too, but when I explained to Ian and the lads what had happened, that I went to help my girl, tensions eased a bit.
From the moment I landed back in the UK, I wanted nothing more than to turn around and fly back, to stay with Quinn. It’s why I bought the flat here. I wanted a place to stay when I visited. A place Quinn could live in if she needed one—which she did. That fecking landlord. Add him to the list of people I’d like to see in a scrum. But leave it to my girl to figure herself out without my help.
That’s another thing I love about Quinn. She’s independent and capable of handling all sorts of issues without any help from the likes of me, but she’s also the most caring person I’ve ever met. She’d help a stranger if they needed it. There isn’t a mean bone in her gorgeous body.
Ah, her body. Damn. Quinn’s body is made for sin. She’s lush and soft and curvy in all the right places. I’ve kissed and touched almost all of her. Feeling her wrapped around me… well, nothing feels better. There’s still more we need to do. Tonight. Tonight is the night I make her mine. I only hope Quinn’s friends—our friends—leave soon. Thinking about sinking into her is making me irrational.
“Yo, Cooke,” says a drunk Bull.
“Mmhmm,” I say, trying to keep my dick in check.
Slapping me on the back, he belches. Lovely. “We’re taking off, man.”
I look behind him and see one of Quinn’s former flatmates and Dan. I scan the room and find Saffie sitting alone in a chair, looking a bit forlorn. I’m tempted to ask Dan to take her with him, but that’d be wrong. Right? I shake my head. Of course it’s wrong.
“You’re not driving.” It’s not a question.
“Nah, man. Freshman on the team is the designated driver tonight. He’s on his way.”
