Page 92 of No Turning Back
Quinn deepens the kiss, her tongue teasing his, her hand slipping between their bodies, finding him through the thin fabric of his boxers. When she wraps her fingers around him, Sam hisses into her mouth, his body going rigid beneath her.
His eyes dart toward the door. “The kids-”
“Already locked,” she smirks against his lips, her thumb circling him through the cotton.
His hands grip her hips, pulling her down firmly against him. The chores, the animals, the food—all of it fades. There’s only Quinn now, the weight of her in his lap, the scent of sleep-warm skin.
“We don’t have much time,” he murmurs, voice rough as his palms slide up her sides, tugging at the oversized T-shirt she sleeps in. “Someone’s bound to come knocking.”
Quinn laughs, a low, throaty sound. “Then we better not waste it.”
She pushes his boxers down and takes him in hand, skin to skin. His breath catches. She lifts herself, positioning him at her entrance, already slick and ready.
When she sinks down in one fluid motion, his mind goes blank. Everything narrows to the heat of her around him, perfect and consuming. His hands slip under her shirt to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over hard nipples.
Quinn sets a rhythm that’s urgent, almost desperate. Not the slow tenderness they sometimes share, but something wilder, more primal. Her hips roll against his, taking what she needs. Head tilted back, lips parted, she’s breathtaking.
“Look at me,” Sam growls, tangling a hand in her hair until her eyes lock on his.
The raw hunger there nearly undoes him. Her movements grow erratic, her nails digging into his chest, her body clenching tighter with each thrust. She’s feral, magnificent, the morning light painting her skin in a glow of sweat.
She leans forward, changing the angle, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. Her breath scorches his ear.
“I want to feel you,” she pants. “All of you.”
Her teeth graze his earlobe, sharp enough to sting, sharp enough to push him closer. His hips drive up to meet hers, the slap of skin filling the room.
Quinn spirals faster, thighs trembling, nails raking down his chest, her head thrown back as a broken cry escapes her.
“That’s it,” he urges, gripping her waist, helping her move harder. “Take what you need.”
Her body arches, tight around him as her release crashes through her. She clings to his shoulders, half-sobs spilling from her lips as she comes undone.
The sight is too much. His own climax slams into him, white-hot and unstoppable. He buries himself deep, spilling into her warmth as his body jerks beneath hers.
For a long moment, they stay like that, breathless, clinging.
Sam murmurs against her hair, “Definitely not worried now.”
They chuckle, then slip into the shower together to start the day.
By the time Sam steps outside, Mike and Kole are already feeding the animals and working through the morning chores.
“We got it, boss,” Mike calls.
“Boss” might’ve been a stretch. Sam had learned quickly that while he knew how to work a ranch, he didn’t know how to run one. Mike, Quinn’s brother, had only planned on staying temporarily, but his business sense turned out to be exactly what the ranch needed. Before long, he and Sam had partnered up: Mike handling the business, Sam taking charge of the daily operations. It worked.
Back inside, Sam starts prepping breakfast from the ingredients he and Quinn had set aside the night before. His wife was a genius at planning ahead. He pulls the turkey from the fridge just as Fleur pads into the kitchen, bed hair sticking out in every direction.
She rubs her eyes.
“Did the baby wake you?” Sam asks.
She shakes her head. “When’s Aaron coming back?”
Sam smiles gently. “Soon, honey.”
For so long, Fleur and Aaron had only had each other. With Aaron away at college, the adjustment hadn’t been easy.
