Mile High Weekend (Opposites Attract Book 1) (14 page)

“Yes,” she whispered.

“That,” he replied. “I can do.”

“You can – ”

He cut her off. “My bag’s just inside the bathroom. Help yourself to something dry, then meet me back here.”

Ginnie stared at him, her eyes wide.  She was on fire.  Everywhere.

“Ginnie?” he said softly.

“Ermph?” she mumbled.

“Hurry.”

Sixteen

Quinn stared after Ginnie for about ten seconds, wondering what kind of game life was playing with him. 

If he believed in fate, even a little bit, he’d say the opposite of what she had said.  The universe wasn’t tossing them signs that they
shouldn’t
be together.  It was just plain tossing them together.  However the fuck it had to.

But you
don’t
believe in fate,
he reminded himself.

Perseverance, hard work.  Tangible, measurable results.  Those were real.  Not fate.

Unconsciously, Quinn fingered the scar just up and to the left of his heart. 

If fate were real, it had a lot of shit to answer for. 

Then he heard his suitcase unzip, and the sound was sexy as hell, and his questions went out of his head.

He snapped up the phone from the side table, pressed zero to speak with reception, and issued a request in a low voice.  When he was done, he slid into his T-shirt, then flicked out the lights.

And just as he climbed into bed, Ginnie opened the bathroom door.  She stood just fifteen feet away, her petite but well-curved frame drowning in a pair of pajamas that Quinn didn’t even remember packing.

In the dim light, she looked small and needy, scrubbed and perfect.  She’d wound her hair into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she was the opposite of everything Quinn found attractive in a woman.

But holy shit.

She was still the most beautiful damned thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Quinn?”

Her voice was soft – unsure but not wanting to admit it.  Just like her.  And also just like her, it had a hardline to his groin.

“I ordered room service.”

“What?”

“Twenty to thirty minutes. I told them to walk right in.”

“But – ”

“Get in the bed, Ginnie,” he ordered.

“In the – ”

“Quick. Before someone catches us.”

He lifted the quilt, and Ginnie scurried across the room.  She jumped into the bed and tucked herself in, and Quinn grinned as he realized how careful she was being to leave a foot between them.

None of that.

He reached across the space and pulled her flush against his own body.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” she breathed back.

She felt just right, against his chest.  Like something he could get used to. 

Jesus, he wanted her.

“Do you think anyone heard me sneak in?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

“No.” She still sounded a bit nervous, but she cleared her throat and added, “My parents are out. At least for the next half hour or so.”

“That’s both good and bad,” Quinn replied.

“How do you figure?”

He then leaned back, ran his finger along her cheek, and dropped his voice. “Because I plan on making you scream in the most pleasant of ways. But I sure wish I had more than thirty minutes.”

Ginnie drew in a sharp breath, and her chest rose.  Her nipples were erect enough that he could feel them pressed against him through both the light cotton pajamas and his T-shirt.  It made him eager to free them, to undo those buttons and drop his mouth to their waiting firmness.  So eager that he almost forgot what role he was supposed to be playing and went for it.

Then Ginnie tipped up her head and scrunched her face into sweet little frown. “Maybe you should go then. Before they come home.”

Quinn flicked his tongue to his lip ring and gave it a slow, deliberate poke. “Maybe I should convince you to let me stay instead.”

She shook her head. “You know what? I’m a nice girl and – ”

He cut her off with a deep kiss, forcing her lips apart with his tongue and plunging it into her mouth.  He dragged the titanium ball from his tongue stud across every surface inside, then gave her bottom lip a solid nip before he pulled away.

“
You
know what?” he countered. “Nice girls don’t let boys like me sneak into their rooms in the middle of the night, do they?”

She shook her head and mumbled, “Mm,” while keeping her eyes on his lips.

Quinn grabbed her chin and forced her gaze up. “I’ve seen the way you look at me in math class. There are definitely some not-nice thoughts running around in that pretty head of yours.”

“Math class?” Ginnie repeated, her face screwed up again, this time like she was trying not to laugh.

Quinn raised an eyebrow and refused to drop the act. “Did you think I didn’t see you? Did you think I didn’t notice the way you hike your skirt a little higher when I walk by? Or last week when you showed up bra-less and wore that sweet, little, pink shirt?”

An image of the made-up scenario flooded Quinn’s mind.  Ginnie’s creamy legs, barely covered in frayed denim, her ample breasts visible under a vibrantly hued T-shirt.  A lust-filled groan built up in the back of Quinn’s throat.  He fought it off.

“You wanna lie and tell me that wasn’t an invitation?” he asked.

“Is that why you came here tonight?” she asked. “Because you thought I might be easy?”

That, he could give her a real-world answer to. “Not in the slightest. I was hoping for a challenge, actually.”

“Oh, really.”

“Mm hmm. If I wanted easy, I would’ve snuck into Hailey’s room instead of yours.”

“Hailey. The one with the globs of eye makeup and the pink hooker heels? Or the one with the belly ring and the weird-smelling locker?”

Quinn bit back a chuckle. “The first one.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?”

“A transvestite.”

Quinn pulled back. “What?”

“That Hailey. She has a little sumpin’ sumpin’ extra under
her
short skirt.”

This time, Quinn couldn’t hold in his laugh. “You
are
a troublemaker, aren’t you?”

“Don’t tell my parents,” she replied with an impish smile.

“Ginnie?”

“Yes?”
All innocence.

“There are quite a few things I’m going to
not
tell your parents about.”

A flush crept up her throat and her eyes sparkled. “Like?”

Quinn dragged his hand to the back of her neck, put his fingers under her bound-up hair and massaged lightly. “Like how this hairstyle is begging to be messed up.”

Ginnie arched into the massage a little and half-closed her eyes. “Messy hair? That’s not terrible.”

“It is when it happens because I’ve got you underneath me, sliding in and out of you. Or when it happens because I’ve got your hands tied to the bed post and my tongue between your legs.”

“Quinn?” His name was almost a gasp.

“Yeah, baby?”

“You worked hard to sneak in here, right?”

“Climbed a trellis, lost a shoe, and got chased by a rabid cat,” he teased.

“So…”

“So…What?”

She met his eyes, and it was impossible to tell how much of her was lost in the game, and how much of her remained separate.

“Are you all talk?” she wanted to know. “Or are you going to see if you can get past first base?”

They stared at each other, the temperature in the room rising to the point of blistering.  Ginnie’s lips were parted and moist, and Quinn felt his breath turn from rapid but controlled, to shallow and more than a little ragged.

The things I want to do to those lips,
he thought.
The things I want them to do to me…

A sudden thump from somewhere out in the hall broke the tension abruptly.

“Shit!” Ginnie whispered, her eyes darting to the door.

“Don’t panic,” Quinn said. “If it’s your parents, we can just tell them I’m the cable repair guy.”

“Very funny.”

But there was no further noise from outside the room, and after a quiet minute with Ginnie staying tucked in his arms, Quinn whispered, “You know what? I’m not convinced that a nice girl like you even knows what anything past first base is.”

Under the blanket, Ginnie’s palm inched its way to his body, landed on his elbow, then worked up to his bicep, and came to rest on his shoulder.

It was the first time she’d touched him voluntarily, Quinn realized, and it filled him with an odd mix of intense satisfaction and incredible longing.

When she tilted her mouth up and brushed his lips lightly with her, the groan he’d been holding in rumbled deep down in his chest.

“Christ, Ginnie,” he said against her mouth.

“Show me,” she murmured, and her thumb traced a delicate circle over his back. “That’s why I wore the short skirt and the little T-shirt and no bra. Because I heard you knew a thing or two about base work, and I wanted a lesson.”

Quinn let her continue her exploration of his shoulder blades for a moment longer, wondering if he’d ever been so turned on by such a small gesture.  Or how it was even possible.

But apparently…it is.

He was dying a second-by-second death, his body a torrent of need.

So Quinn pressed his hand to her hip and kissed her, driving that need into his mouth.  Into her.

He took the exploration slowly this time around, though, tangling his tongue with hers, soft, then firm, then soft again.  He tasted each part of her mouth, and made her gasp against the attention.  He drew his tongue away and used his teeth on her lips, tugging and pulling, while he skated his fingers down the side of her legs, then to the back of her thigh, then paused them just below her ass and pulled away.

“First base,” he told her.

She was trembling a little, and for a second, Quinn thought maybe she was scared, but when he looked into her eyes, he saw nothing but a desire that matched his own.

“That was…very educational,” she said.

He caught the teasing, challenging tone in her statement, and he was fully ready to rise to it.

Ready to rise? You’ve already
more
than risen.

It was true.  He was hard as hell and so far past wanting to move on to second base that it wasn’t even funny.  He forced himself to rein it in.

“I should probably resent that remark,” he stated.

“Why’s that?”

“Being lumped in with the teachers – especially the
good
ones – is a grave insult to a true badass like myself.”

“Does a true badass proclaim himself like that?”

“A true badass says and does
many
unexpected things.”

Quinn moved his hand up and squeezed her ass – and it was smooth and firm and just as perfect as he’d been anticipating – so he didn’t care when she laughed.

“That was
not
exactly unexpected,” she teased.

“I must be slipping then. Maybe next I’ll be saying
please
every time I want to kiss you. Every time I want to touch you.”

“And maybe I’d like that.”

“You think you’d like having me beg?”

“I think I’d like having you be
polite
.”

“Polite? You trying to ruin my rep?”

Ginnie batted her eyelashes. “You trying to ruin
mine
?”

“Absolutely.”

Quinn tipped up his chin and sunk his teeth into throat.  She yelped, and he let out a dark chuckle – that’d teach her to mock his bad-assery – then soothed the bite with a suck and a kiss.  She mumbled something, but Quinn didn’t hear what it was.  He was too busy making his way to second base.

Seventeen

Quinn’s hands were everywhere on her body at once. 

His fingers skimmed the semi-important parts.

Face. 

Shoulders. 

Throat. 

Back.

They caressed the sensitive ones.

Breasts.

Thighs.

Ass.

It’s a game,
Ginnie tried to remind herself.
Role play.

Then his fingers slid deftly between her legs, brushing the cotton fabric of the pajamas against her waiting wetness, rubbing firmly before they slid out again.

And it was too little and too much at the same time and any pretense of role play was lost.  She was on fire.  She was in awe of the way he lit her up while they were both still clothed.

Maybe it’s a superpower
.

She opened her mouth – maybe to ask if it was – but Quinn chose that second to find the buttons on her borrowed sleepwear.  In one fluid motion, he rolled her to her back with her top open and one nipple in his warm mouth.  Both his tongue ring and his lip ring were flicking across it in a searing dance that rendered speech impossible.  So instead of words, a low, animalistic sound that Ginnie couldn’t even register as her own escaped her lips.

And Quinn spoke against her, his voice a rumble. “So sweet.”

Ginnie wasn’t sure why, but the tiny, two-word compliment sent her into a full-body blush.  Maybe it was the way he sounded like he meant it.  Maybe it was simply the fact that he
had
said it.  Either way, she wanted more.  And he seemed to sense it.

His mouth opened wider, drawing in more of her tender flesh.  Then he switched to her other breast and kissed it with equal fervor while his thumb slipped to the first one and formed a slow, firm, repeated circle.

Holy…Oh. Dear. Keep…
Ginnie’s mind was a mess.

But her skin…Her body…It was all focused on the attention Quinn was giving her.  Every rub, every suck, every shift, every move, all of it brought her to exquisite attention.  Her hands sought to touch him in return, but he stopped her before she got even close.  He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, leaving her lying beneath his denim-clad thighs.  Completely at his mercy.

Quinn looked her straight in the eyes, the unusual amber of his irises all but obscured by his wildly dilated pupils.

“Baby,” he said gruffly. “Don’t get me wrong, I
want
you to touch me. But the second you do, I’m going to forget about that other base. The one that comes between second and home.”

She tried to meet his stare with confidence, tried to mask the flare in her chest and the penetrating heat between her legs.

“You want me
that
badly?”

She meant it to come out teasing, for the question to be a joke.  Instead, it sounded small and insecure.  Ginnie cursed her slip up and waited for him to pull away.  But he didn’t.  He adjusted his grip so that her wrists were in one of his hands instead of both, then dragged his freed fingers from her cheek to her neck.

“Do those football boys you usually run with
not
want you this badly?”

Quinn’s question made Ginnie go a little still.  He was still in the game – the fantasy that had been her idea.  The one she’d all but forgotten about the second his mouth met her skin.

“They don’t say much,” she replied with a swallow against the sudden lump in her throat.

“No?” He dragged his thumb along her collarbone.

“No. They just grunt a lot.”

An irresistible grin lit up Quinn’s face for just a second before he shot her a scowl instead. “Clearly, the football boys have been hit in the head too many times.”

“Clearly.”

Quinn leaned close and rubbed his cheek against hers, and Ginnie was sure she could feel every piece of his barely-there stubble.  Rough, but somehow soothing and sexy at the same time.

Just like Quinn as a whole.

He placed a soft kiss on her lips, then eased away again so that he was looking down at her once more.

“
Anyone
,” he said emphatically, “Who says he doesn’t want you that badly is either a liar or an idiot.”

Right then, she realized he wasn’t talking about the fantasy world after all.

“And Ginnie?” he added. “I’m neither of those things. And I want you very,
very
badly.”

Her breath caught, and her chest rose, and Quinn’s eyes moved away from her face and back to her body.  Like he couldn’t help it.  Like he meant those words as much as he’d meant
so sweet.

He rolled off of her then, and though Ginnie missed the contact immediately, Quinn didn’t leave her wanting for long.  Lying on his side, he cupped her cheek and tipped her face toward him.  He gave her a long, lingering kiss.  As his lips laid claim to hers, his palm slid down her body, stroking each bared breast.  When he’d drawn both of her nipple into hard, aching points, he moved his fingers to her cleavage, then drew a searing line to her belly button. 

Hot. So very hot.

The edge of his pinky pushed against the waistband of her pajamas and rubbed along it, back and forth, lowering it until it was just above her pubic bone.

The need she felt was everywhere.  Consuming beyond words.

She wanted his mouth on her and his hands.  She wanted to thrust her hips up and tear at the sheets.

“Oh, God,” Ginnie moaned.

Quinn’s teeth nibbled her earlobe and he whispered, “Shh, baby. Gotta keep it down or someone’ll hear you and then we’ll have to stop before I get to third.”

She knew he was kidding.

He
had
to be kidding.

He wouldn’t stop.

Would he?

Ginnie wasn’t taking the chance.  She bit her lip to keep from crying out again as Quinn’s hand went
under
the pajamas and came to rest just above the most needy of all her parts.  Very gently –
too
gently – one of his fingers stroked her.  Just once.

Ginnie whimpered through her closed lips.

“A bit more?” Quinn asked, his voice thick.

Ginnie nodded, afraid to speak.

His hand slid lower, cupping her, then pressing into her, then drawing out.

Not enough.

He gave her another little push, just a bit deeper, once, twice, and on the third time, his thumb came up to circle her clitoris.  Then stopped.  It was torturous.  Incredible.  And this time when her body wanted to do it, Ginnie did thrust herself up.  She couldn’t help it. 

Quinn let her push herself into his hand, keeping his fingers in just the right place and he growled, “More, Ginnie?”

“Yes!” she cried, careful to keep her voice as quiet as possible.

“Slow and steady?” He rocked his hand over her, and she moaned.

“Or fast and hard?” He plunged his fingers into her, pulled them out, then plunged them in again, and she bit down on her lip so forcefully that she tasted blood.

“Genevieve?” he prodded.

“Both! Slow. And hard,” she gasped.

She was far too turned on to care if she sounded greedy or contradictory.  All she cared about was getting more of Quinn.

Quinn.

She wanted to say it out loud.  So she did.

“Quinn! Please!”

“Slow and hard,” he agreed. “Since you asked so nicely.”

And he stopped teasing her, stopped holding back.  He tunneled into her, and Ginnie’s insides pulsed in response.  She could feel her muscles contract over his fingers as he explored her more intimately than she’d ever been explored before.  Her need grew unfathomably strong. 

How was it even possible, to want someone like this?  To want to be so
consumed
?

Quinn’s ministrations intensified. 

She’d thought she wanted him on the plane.  She’d known it was good.  But maybe she’d believed the incredible, touch-less experience there to be a one-off, a release of pent-up need and frustration.

So wrong.

This was much more than that. 

Oh, God.

Up, went her hips.

In, went his fingers.

Stroke, went his thumb.

His attention ruled her body.

A wild spiral of heat wound tight in her core.  It grew hotter and hotter and tighter and tighter, making Ginnie shake.

“Quinn, I’m going to –
oh
– I – Quinn – ”

“Yes,” he replied. “Do. Now, Ginnie.”

His mouth found hers, sealing his gentle command with a deep kiss.

And Ginnie
was
consumed.

The spiral exploded in flames that extended from where Quinn held her to every other part of her body.  Her fingers and toes tingled with it.  Her mind spun with it.  And her heart bloomed with it.  It let loose in a mad crescendo of release that left her panting.  Her pulse thundered through her, and her chest rose and fell erratically, but the rest of her was a pool of molten liquid, unable to move, even if she wanted it to. 

And she didn’t want to. 

She just wanted to lie there and forget about everything, to selfishly hold onto the glow that warmed her.  The glow that Quinn brought her.

Quinn.

Her eyes dragged open slowly, seeking his face in the dark.  And there he was, lying on his side, his dark-lashed eyes glinting at her and his mouth turned up at the corners in a pleased, sexy smile.

“Good, baby?” His voice was rough-edged velvet.

“Good?” Ginnie whispered back.

She didn’t think a word had ever sounded so inadequate.  And suddenly she wanted to show him just how much better than
good
she felt.  She reached for him.

And without warning, the door swung open, bathing them in fluorescent light, and an embarrassed gasp and a stammered apology carried across the hotel room. 

With her face flaming, Ginnie yanked the quilt up to her chin, and Quinn grinned at her before he jumped to his feet.

“Busted!” he announced a little too gleefully, then added, “Don’t worry sir, I’m just here to change a light bulb.”

“Uh.”

Ginnie refused to look at whoever made the slightly strangled noise.  It sounded like a man.  And if she ran into him in the hall, or in the gift shop, or
any
where, She didn’t want to recognize him.  She didn’t want to see his face and know that he’d gotten a full view her while she was practically topless.  Post-orgasm.  Her mind full of hedonistic debauchery.

God.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and she didn’t open them again until she was sure Quinn had closed the door firmly behind the unfortunate delivery man. 

Then she sat bolt upright, her hands holding her pajama shirt closed tightly, and she shot Quinn a glare.

“What the hell was that?”

He looked amused.  And he was holding a sandwich.

“You said you wanted to know what it was like to be at risk for getting caught,” he pointed out.

“Not like that!”

“I was trying to add some authenticity.”

Ginnie did up her buttons.  Not as swiftly as he’d undone them, but still quickly.

“Remind me to never ask
you
to do something with handcuffs,” she muttered.

Quinn chuckled and leaned against the tiny table across the room.  He lifted the sandwich.

“Want a bite?”

And Ginnie wanted to say no, just for spite.  But as she glared at him, wondering just how he could sit there so casually after totally rocking her world and
not
having his rocked in return, her stomach rumbled.  And the sandwich started to look almost as tasty as the man holding it.