My chest heaves up and down as I’m sexually and mentally frustrated.
“I’m annoyed with how Ian is reacting. That’s all.” I shake out of his grasp and walk up the stairs. “I just want to be alone.”
“I didn’t know he was there. I just…” He blows out a breath. “I saw that guy’s hands on you and I lost it.”
I stop with my hand on the railing, looking at him over my shoulder. There’s something so raw about his voice that it has me rooted to the spot.
“It’s okay, honestly. It had to happen sometime. We ripped the Band-Aid off, and now we’ll wait to see how it heals.”
“Okay,” he says gently as he takes steps toward me until he’s on the landing and we’re now eye to eye. “If you’re okay with what happened, then what’s got you all out of sorts?”
He reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, making me shiver.
“Is it too cold in here? I can turn the AC down.”
“No, it’s not that,” I stammer. “I’m just really tired and it was a long day.”
“Okay,” he says, throat bobbing as his eyes dip to my lips, then back up to my eyes.
“Okay,” I repeat, my voice low.
We stare at one another, filling the space between us with tension so thick that we could drown in it. My eyes dip to his lips, and fuck, I want to kiss him. Quentin notices, his lips parting as he takes the next step closer to me.
“Good night.” I let out on a shaky breath, turning and hurrying up the stairs, right to my room.
I slump against my closed door, feeling as if I performed an entire floor routine with how fast my heart is beating. Why do Ikeep doing this? Putting myself in situations where I find myself a breath away from a choice that would potentially change everything between us.
The scary part is that I wouldn’t have cared if he had grabbed me and pressed his lips to mine.
I walk into my bathroom, turning the shower on, hoping it will help soothe the ache between my legs.
But as I wash my body, my hands roaming over my breasts, it only makes the ache more intense. One of my hands travels from my breast, down my hips, over the mound of my pussy.
I can’t help myself and rub my clit, desperate to relieve myself. But it’s not enough, so I step out of the shower and dry my feet on the mat, wrapping a towel around me. I go to my nightstand and open the bottom compartment to retrieve my waterproof vibrator.
Hanging the towel back up, I step under the spray of water and waste no time, sit on the bench in the walk-in shower and spread my legs as I bring the vibrator to my clit.
The gasp I let out is louder than I want, so I bite down on my lip, trying to muffle the sounds I’m making.
I glide the vibrator down my slit, my body rocking against it, trying to get any ounce of pleasure possible. While it’s something, it’s not enough.
Using the vibrator, I bring it back up to my clit and press harder as my free hand toys with my extra sensitive nipples. A moan breaks free from my lips as I close my eyes, lost to the ache in my core.
“Teagan, are you okay?” I hear Quentin’s worried voice, making my eyes fly open just as he enters my bathroom, our eyes locking.
For a second, we just stare at one another, shock and desire mixed in his gaze, me with my hand paused, vibrator still on.
“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, throwing a hand over his eyes. “I was worried about you and I called your name a few times, but you didn’t respond. I’ll go.”
He moves to leave the room when I blurt, “Stay.”
This goes against everything we’ve said we won’t do, but I can’t hold myself back any longer. I need him, plain and simple.
Although the aftermath may make things verynotsimple, it’s a problem for another moment in time.
I know I’m playing with fire here, but I really just wanthimto touch me.
Quentin pauses, his head falling back as he closes his eyes. “Teagan,” he says, his voice pleading. Whether it’s for me to stop or continue, I don’t know.
