Page 82 of Good Graces

“I’ll make it quick,” I tease, but my voice is breathless, shaky. My fingers are still tangled in his hair, my whole body pressed tight against his like I can’t get close enough.

He laughs, breath warm against my throat, and it’s different from before—softer, looser. It makes my chest tighten, the way he feels so close to the boy I used to know. The boy who used to look at me like I was something steady in his world. Something good.

“I missed you,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “So much.”

The bridge of his nose presses against my temple, dragging slowly and deliberately like he’s reminding himself of every detail. The way I smell, the way I feel, the way I fit against him.

“God,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “I’ve really fuckin’ missed you, too.”

26

WARREN

Quinn issoft and perfect and mine. I want her so fucking badly, and I don’t care that I shouldn’t. That we haven’t fixed everything yet. That I still don’t know what this means for us.

She screwed up. I screwed up. Maybe her explanation for stealing isn’t enough. Maybe I’m a damned fool for letting her back in so easily. But against all reason, I get it. I accept it.

And right now, all I want to do is make up for lost time.

I’m not eighteen anymore. I’ve been with other women—enough to know that none of them were ever her. None of them felt like this. With them, it was just noise. Heat without purpose, connection without depth. I kissed them, fucked them, tried to forget the way Quinn felt in my arms. But no matter how many times I tried to move on, she never left me.

Because being with Quinn was never just about sex. It was her breath catching against my neck, her fingers curling against my skin like she was trying to mark me. It was her laughter against my chest when I said something annoying just to piss her off. It was the way I’d catch her watching me—like she knew exactly what I was thinking before I even opened my mouth.

And now? Now, I can make her feelgood, really fucking good. I can make her forget every second we spent apart. I can make her remember how good we were together. How good we can still be.

I unhook her bra, slowly undress her. Then I pull her hair out of its elastic and slip it around my wrist. Dark strands tumble loose, fanning out like spilled ink, with little glints of blueish silver catching in the sunlight.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

Her skin is warm and glowing in the afternoon light, her body soft in all the places I crave. Her breasts, full and flushed, rise and fall with each unsteady breath. My gaze traces the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, the shadow between her thighs—already slick and glistening.

She’s naked, back pressed into the grass, and I’m still fully dressed. Still in control. I drag my knuckles along her ribs, watch the way her stomach quivers. She’s so soft, so fucking responsive, and I could spend hours just memorizing the shape of her.

Her fingers twist into my shirt, tugging impatiently, and I grab her wrist, pinning it to the grass beside her head.

She gasps, her body arching beneath mine. There’s a brief, instinctive struggle like she’s trying to break free. But then she goes still, breath coming fast and shallow, her chest heaving beneath me. Her nipples pebble tight in the cool air, and her eyes—dark and glassy—flicker up to meet mine.

She likes this. She wants this. The weight of me holding her down, the tension hanging heavy in the air between us.

“You want my clothes off?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she breathes, shaky but certain.

“Then ask me nicely.” I ease my thigh between her legs, press against the heat of her—hot and slick against my jeans.

She writhes, hips jerking forward. She’s desperate for more. “Please,” she gasps. “Warren, please.”

I dip my head, brush my lips along her throat, just to feel the way she shivers. “You can do better than that, Quinny,” I murmur. “Tell me what you want.”

Her breath stutters, fingers flexing where I’ve still got her pinned. “I want you.”

“Yeah?” I drag my thumb over her nipple, rolling it slowly until her breath stops. “You want me to fuck your pretty little cunt? Want me to make you come?”

“Yes,” she chokes out. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” she says, voice breaking. “Please, Warren, I need you.”

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