The Sweet Under His Skin (22 page)

"Yeah," Calvin agreed, backing off him and perching on the bed. "I'm sorry, Q."

"Don't sweat it, Chuckles," Quentin replied, messing up his hair. "You just want to protect Aunt Arielle, too. That's good. That makes me proud of you."

Quentin had to grin at how Calvin sat up straighter, his little chest puffing out all proud. Quentin held up his fist. "We good?"

Calvin bumped it. "We're good."

"All right. Can I go kiss Aunt Arielle again now?"

Calvin made a face. "She's a girl!"

"I don't like kissing guys. That's my business, not yours," Quentin muttered, standing up. "Now go to bed. And stop cramping my style. I'm supposed to be a badass."

"You're not," Calvin informed him with great wisdom.

Quentin had to smile. "Go to sleep. You're still growing."

Arielle downed the last mouthful from the bottle of wine Quentin had bought for supper just as he returned to the kitchen. Thelma was watching TV, volume quite loud, and Arielle got to her feet from the kitchen table, worried.

"What happened?" she asked desperately.

"He thought I was only being nice to him to get in your pants," Quentin said bluntly. "I'm thinking your sweetheart of a sister had quite a few guys taking that angle with him. It really hurt him."

Arielle's eyebrows went up. "He told you all that?"

Quentin shook his head. "Believe it or not, I figured it out all for myself. That's what he was so pissed about. Getting mad at you, that was just the left over."

Arielle felt that one right in the heart. "Oh my God, that poor kid."

"He's fine, we're buds again. Forgiven and understood."

She sighed. "Thank you. Should I go talk to him?"

"Absolutely not," he said in a tone that startled her, made her look up into those unbelievably blue eyes while her heart skipped a bit. "What? Why?"

He played with the hair behind her right ear, smiling now, just a bit. "Because I told him I was coming out here to kiss you again. I told him to go to bed."

Arielle's cheeks got warm. "Quentin, why'd you tell him that?"

"Why should I lie? That's the worst thing that kid's gonna see in his life? Me kissing his aunt?"

Well stop talking about it and do it was her stupid response, thankfully a silent one. Trying to figure out what to say, she absently licked her lips. She had to be more careful with that, apparently. Quentin growled and kissed her again, lifting her up to her tiptoes with his hands on her waist, making her feel small and petite.

She pushed away, taking a deep breath. "Quentin—" she whispered.

"Swear to Christ, Arielle," he muttered, hand pressing to her jaw, his thumb running down from her lip to her chin roughly. "We do that again without anyone else around and it's ending up in bed."

Full-body quiver that made her close her eyes. She might have stopped breathing. Then he let her go with another quick kiss on the cheek. "Spare keys? For the contractors?"

"Key holder by the front door," she answered almost robotically. "Kermit the Frog key chain."

He nodded and left her kitchen, the room feeling bright and airy again once he was clear of it. She had to close her eyes and cover her mouth, trying to fight what her body was thirsting for.

"Arielle."

She turned, seeing Aunt Thelma wide-eyed in the curved archway between the kitchen and living room. "What?"

"Go after him."

She frowned. "What?"

"Go after him. See what happens. You're going to be so sick in a week, and…it would be nice to have a happy memory to think about? Wouldn't it?"

Arielle was incredulous. "Are you insane?"

"Go after him," Thelma repeated. "Or by Christ, I will myself. I've never seen so much lean muscle on a man in real life!"

Arielle blinked, then had to grin. "Oh, Aunt Thelma."

"Go," she insisted, grabbing Arielle's arm and pulling her though the living room. "Let me just live vicariously for once and go do something maybe stupid but certainly tempting. Go." She pulled the door open and waited.

"Aunt Thelma—"

"Honey, go feel good. Even if it's just for a little while. Please."

Arielle's cheeks were blazing red, the wine in her blood making her feel a little too impulsive suddenly.

"I can't."

"Trust me Arielle, you can.You’re stronger than you think and more beautiful than you could ever imagine."

That was how she found herself striding up his walkway, to the stoop, and opening the screen door without knocking, wondering if she was drunk or crazy.

"What're you doing here?" Quentin sounded like he felt her confusion as well, having just flicked on the kitchen light, turning to his door when he heard her open it.

"I just…" she lost the words. Her heart was hammering, now that she'd done the really stupid part and followed him over here, set foot in his house alone. That's pretty much where her plan ended.

"Is everything okay?"

She took a deep breath, shaking her head. "I just…" Yep, second time she'd said that.

He came forward, hand going to the side of her face gently. "Arielle? Are you okay?"

She closed her eyes. Shit, that just figured. She was turned on, he was all about friendly concern and worry. This was a stupid idea.

Arielle opened her eyes, about to excuse herself and her odd behaviour, blaming it on copious amounts of wine, but he was still too close and dark and intimidating and exciting. She sighed, looking up at those eyes, deciding right then and there that they were breathtaking. Not scary; she'd never had them look at her in anger or intimidation. They were breathtaking and they almost hurt.

She leaned in and kissed him. He was surprised, easing back like he was worried she didn't realize what she'd done. But instead of letting him back away, she followed, pressing into his chest, sliding her arms around his shoulders.

Joy and triumph didn't quite cover what she felt when he wrapped both arms around her back. He deepened the kiss immediately, making a meal of her lips and taking control of her mouth. Her hands found his hair, his went to hers as well, holding her head in place firmly.

"I told you what would happen," he growled against her mouth.

"I know," she panted back, almost hating how desperate it sounded and how warm he'd already made her.

His hands shot down to the bottom of both ass cheeks, and on cue she popped up to his waist, letting him hold her weight as she squeezed her thighs to his hips. He held her there for a moment, kissing her more until she moaned, catching herself completely by surprise.

That was when he moved, carrying her through his darkened living room to the hall, through a doorway, kicking it closed behind him. How he found the bed she didn't know, didn't care.

Quentin lowered her to the edge of the mattress carefully, dropping to his knees in front of her, then gathering her up to his chest again, popping her backside off the bed and landing her in his lap like he changed his mind. His hands pushed under her shirt to slide over her lower back warm, rough, and fantastic. His mouth absolutely divine, the rest of her body aching to get the same treatment her lips and tongue were enjoying.

"I gotta see you," he whispered, mouth still on hers. "I gotta turn the light on. Please. I've been dying to know."

His words made her shudder, but what he was asking made her think, which froze her.

He felt it, felt her withdraw. His hands slid up her neck to cup her face in front of his, his breath smelling of beer, hot on her skin. It wasn't sickly, it was perfectly him and it tasted like he did and she was loving it, loving him.

"Please Arielle, let me watch you. You're so fucking beautiful. I've got to see."

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, letting his words wash over her. He thought she was beautiful, he wanted to see her. This man who could have 'easy' without much trouble, was desperate for her. And the entire time all she could think was how her body had been mangled. How he'd undoubtedly be disgusted, and that would kill her.

"Please," he whispered again. "I could never see you as anything but perfect."

Tears stung her eyes, but before she could go back to that dark and ugly place she was replying, "Okay." She felt safe with him.

He lifted her from his lap easily, depositing her on the edge of the bed again. He leaned across her to flick on the light on the nightstand, and the room lit up warm and golden.

When Arielle had stayed here she liked the light of that lamp, it had been great for reading. For some reason it reminded her of her parent's cottage in Washington state. There was a lamp there that had been an old seventies relic delegated to cottage duty with a fringed orange shade, but the light it gave was so particular to how safe and cosy she'd always felt there. Quentin's lamp had the same glow.

But now the glow held him, in front of her, still on his knees. Her hands were on his chest, pushing into the neck of his shirt. The way his eyes were running over her made his words more believable. Well, if he wanted to see her she wanted to see him, too.

She undid the top button of his shirt, and he was quick to help, undoing the next four quickly in the time it took her to get her hands to function well enough to do the top one. Impatient, he pulled the shirt off over his head, cupping her face in his hands again and pulling her mouth to his.

Arielle's hands ran over his smooth chest. He was ripped, rock-solid, and he felt strong. She scratched her fingernails across it before he caught her wrists, chuckling—again, another trait that was so male she felt something deep behind her bellybutton quiver a little.

"Easy, babe," he murmured, kissing her softly. "I'm ticklish."

She smiled against his lips, that bit of personal information thrilling in its own way. It was like he was opening up all his secrets just for her.

He eased upward, forcing her back, squirming on elbows and ass until they were both reclined on the bed, his weight held off her with both elbows, chest on hers, his hips next to her on the mattress. His eyes were downright shining as he studied her, hand smoothing over her cropped hair, licking his lips at the sight of her. Or so it seemed.

"Aunt Arielle," he said absently. "Finally in my bed with me."

She smiled, wanting to cry again for some insane reason. "Quentin—"

"You'll let me give you what I promised?"

"What?"

"I promised you something
nice
, remember?"

Her skin lit off like wildfire. She could feel how her cheeks were blazing. "I remember." She was embarrassed that her voice shook, embarrassed that he heard it and embarrassed that it still made her all bothered to remember it.

"Good," he whispered and kissed her again before she could humiliate herself more. The kiss was slow but intense, to the point where she was winding her leg around his hip, turning her body into his to have as much of him as she could as close as possible. His rough hands slid under her shirt, fingers making lazy circles on her skin in such a concentrated pattern she was feeling it in other more private and sensitive places. That feeling and her own surprising passion meant she let herself get lost in the kiss, holding on for dear life and letting him sweep her away. From everything.

His hand slid up to her breast, the real one, and he groaned, hand cupping her along the swell of the bottom and side, pulling back from her kiss as her eyes slid closed, breathing fast. "I won't touch anything you don't want me to, okay?"

She didn't even have the ability pout and contemplate her bad luck of not being whole, all because his hand on her right breast was careful, attentive, and when he ran his thumb over her nipple her entire body jolted and she moaned, eyes flying open, her own response surprising her.

He was smiling down on her, eyes on her face. He'd been watching her react to that touch, and she knew her blush had probably increased three shades. But his thumb was still moving, and it made her scissor her legs against him.

She licked her lips, swallowing hard, eyes locked on his face. She was nervous and anticipating what he was going to do next, but it wasn't in her to request anything.

His hand slid into the cup of her bra to hold her breast in his palm, now rolling her nipple between a finger and his thumb very gently. Her lips parted so breathing would be easier, but the sharp thrill of what he was doing shot straight to the spot between her legs, making her writhe them more. His lips came to the side of her neck, the scruff on his chin rubbing her in a way that was definitely male.

Arielle found the courage to move her hands, one going to his shoulder, holding it tight, the other resting on his head. She was surprised at how soft his hair actually was, and she was spearing her fingers into it without thinking about it.

His hand left her breast, leaving it noticeably colder, sliding down her ribs to rest on her hip, his thumb moving back and forth along the front of her hip bone. He raised his head again, eyes hooded and heated at the same time, locking eyes before crushing his mouth on her again.

Arielle's hand tightened in his hair, her head tilting so when she parted her lips his tongue could dive in fully, stroking her mouth and lips like he was memorizing the taste of her. The motion of his tongue heated the same parts of her his hand on her breast had, and she whimpered. The need was going to make her crazy and she was dying for him to touch her where it really counted. She rolled her hips involuntarily, and he caught on.

She was suddenly on her back, his weight on her, one of his legs between her thighs. She could feel his hard and large cock pressing into her leg, and it made her jerk her hips again. He groaned low and long, moving that length against her.

Christ, it was like high school again; being so hot for someone that even dry humping was as exquisite release of sorts. His knee rode higher so his thigh was against her crotch. With his tongue in her mouth and his hand returning to her nipple, she rubbed against him again, giving another whimper.

"Fuck, Arielle," he growled into her mouth. "I've wanted you…I've wanted this for so long."

She gasped as he pinched her nipple harder, the tension in her lower belly now torturous. But still she couldn't ask. She didn't have the words or the nerve.