13. Quinn

13

QUINN

W hat was I doing?

Have some self-respect, Quinn .

I tore myself away, breathing hard. Roman's eyes reflected the storm, and his darkened gaze was fixed on me. He was breathing just as hard as I was, his chest rising and falling in time with mine.

"No, you fucking don't, Quinn," he growled, yanking me back into him and covering my mouth with his. The kiss only lasted for a second before a bright flash of light had him springing back, cursing under his breath. Wrapping his fingers around my wrist, he tugged me towards the tree line.

"We need to get away from the water." He stooped to pick up a bundle of fabric, still gripping me tightly, and then moved to my left, still holding on to my wrist and leaving me with no choice but to go wherever he was leading me. The truth was, a part of me wanted to go with him, wanted answers for what had happened on the boat. To find out why he'd been so hostile towards me ever since I'd returned to Hatherley Hall. I wanted to have it out with him once and for all.

I kept my gaze fixed on him, an anchor in the gathering storm. His raven hair, dripping water onto his broad back, his muscles shifting beneath his tanned skin as he moved with purpose, seemingly unaffected by the rain. He came to a stop in front of the boat sheds, pushing open the door, and then he tugged me inside. As soon as the door closed, he was on me again, one hand cupping my throat underneath my jaw, the other wrapped around my back.

"Let's get one thing straight," he rasped. "I'm guilty of leaving you, but you're not innocent, either. We still need to talk, and we will. After."

I swallowed around his grip, my chilled body rapidly heating against his. He stared at me, his lashes inky spikes, his eyes still reflecting the storm clouds outside. Fuck him for being so hot, with his chiselled body and that intense, heated gaze focused on me. He was a god, and no mortal could resist him.

"After what?" I managed.

"This."

He kissed me, hard, making me gasp against his mouth, and then he pulled away. "Fuck you for making my life so difficult," he muttered, dipping down to rummage in the bundle of fabric he'd dropped near our feet.

"I could say the same about you." I wrapped my arms around my body in a futile attempt to warm it.

He didn't reply. Instead, he rose to his feet, tugging my raincoat from my shoulders. Something that looked a lot like guilt flashed in his gaze, and he cleared his throat.

"I can't fucking stand to see you shivering." Before I could reply, he stepped closer. "This is what should have happened after the boat," he murmured, wrapping a soft, fluffy towel around my shoulders.

My shivers stopped, and he smiled. That smile . It made me melt inside, gave me butterflies, made my heart race…all the things I'd been suppressing and denying to myself.

It was beautiful, and it was for me.

He gently wiped the towel over the parts of me that had been exposed to the elements, taking extra care with my face. With his brows pulled together, his gaze intent on what he was doing, I had a moment to just study him. What a mess of contradictions this man was. Like the sea in a storm. Restless, churning, wild, but in the hidden depths, far beneath the surface, there was calm. Stillness.

"So beautiful," he whispered, almost inaudibly, and I wasn't sure if he'd even meant to say it aloud. He traced the pad of his finger across my cheekbone, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. My face was bare of make-up, my hair was a mass of wild tangles from the wind and rain, despite the protection of my hood, and I knew there were dark shadows beneath my eyes from my lack of sleep. But the way he looked at me…it was almost reverential.

Dipping his head, he kissed me again, so softly. "Put this on," he murmured, handing me a navy zip-up hoodie. My breath caught in my throat. It was his lacrosse hoodie, with his surname across the back in royal blue lettering.

I hesitated for too long, and his softness disappeared, his jaw visibly clenching. "Fucking hell, stop being so stubborn. Put it on. Now. You're still cold."

"Fine." I handed him the towel, pulling on his hoodie, and I watched as he roughly dried his hair and body.

A smirk curved over his lips when he caught me staring at him. His fingers teased the waistband of his tight swim shorts. "Might want to turn around unless you want a show."

I spun around instantly, my face heating, and I heard him laugh behind me. We'd had a moment on the boat, but a nude Roman Cavendish was not something I was equipped to deal with.

"You can turn around now," he said.

I turned.

And stopped.

And stared.

And kept staring.

My mouth went dry.

Yes, Roman Cavendish had his back to me, but he was fully naked.

Oh, fuck.

That body.

I couldn't breathe.

"You're a bit quiet, Quinn. Something wrong?"

His faux-innocent tone immediately riled me up. "Shut up." I spun back around, pressing my forehead against the wall, reminding myself of what he'd done. Except it was hard to hold on to the anger and bitterness when I'd just seen him bared to me. When I'd been overcome by that rush of want. To touch, to taste, to have him touch me back.

Strong arms slid around my waist, his voice a low rumble in my ear, making me shiver despite myself. "Fuck. You in my hoodie…"

"Roman, please. Don't. We need to talk."

Releasing me, he turned me to face him. "We will. After."

Then he lifted me into his arms, stalking over to one of the rowing boats moored inside the huge shed. It looked as if it was undergoing maintenance, with the interior completely stripped out, piled on the wooden dock next to it.

The boat bobbed gently in the water as Roman threw his damp towel inside and then lowered me so I was lying along the bottom of the boat. He climbed in after me, making it rock as he lowered himself. Thankfully, for my sanity, he'd pulled on a pair of sweatpants, although he hadn't bothered with a top, his chest still bared to me.

"What are you doing?"

"Returning the favour so we're on more equal footing for this fucking conversation that neither of us wants to have," he said and then pulled off my trainers, throwing them onto the dock. I shrieked, my legs instinctively coming up. "Stay still," he ground out and then tugged down my leggings and underwear in one go.

A shocked gasp tore from my throat as I yanked my hands down to cover myself. "Roman!"

"Quiet." He crawled over me, balancing on his forearms. His head lowered to mine. "Let me make you feel as good as you made me feel."

He kissed me slowly, carefully, until I gave in, opening my mouth to him and letting his tongue slide over mine. My hands gradually came up, circling his back. Somehow, between the shock of him ripping my leggings off and now, my nudity no longer bothered me, even though it probably should've, given the circumstances.

"Good girl," he murmured, kissing down my jaw and onto my throat. Balancing on one arm, he slid the other down my body, stopping right at the edge of my clit. "I know you're wet for me. I know you want me, don't you?"

"It's just a physical reaction. It could happen with any good-looking guy," I lied, my body trembling as I held myself as still as possible rather than rocking up into his touch.

"Liar. You're mine, Quinn, whether you like it or not. Whether I like it or not. No one else can make you feel this good. No one else will ever get to touch you the way I do." With those words, he skimmed over my clit with the pad of his thumb. Fuck . Trying to stay away from him was a lost cause. My body arched upwards, seeking more friction, and he chuckled darkly against my throat, his teeth scraping over my skin. "Admit it, baby. No one affects you the way I do."

"You're so arrogant." My hands slid into his hair, then down over the back of his head, my palms stroking over the muscles of his shoulders. I moaned as he circled his thumb. "Ro. Please."

Lifting his head, he grinned at me before shifting down the boat, making it rock, his fingers teasing over my wetness, making my hips arch again. He stared up at me with a sinful smirk before he lowered his head, his hot mouth joining his fingers.

"Fuuuuck. Roman." I wound my legs around him, holding him in place, and he laughed against me, the vibrations sending shivers through my body. Then he stopped teasing me with a long, slow swipe of his tongue along my slit while his thumb continued circling, this time with more pressure.

This man knew exactly what he was doing. I moaned as his fingers curled around my thigh, lifting my leg over his shoulder and adjusting the angle as he licked inside me.

" Roman ." I gasped his name as I shattered around him, my thighs shaking as he held me in place, never letting up, until I had to tug at his hair to move him away. I collapsed back, my eyes closing as I gulped air into my oxygen-deprived lungs. I was wrung out, gone for him, my brain blissfully blank as I lost myself in the haze of pleasure he'd given me.

When I felt him move again, my eyes fluttered open, and I watched as he straddled my thighs. My eyes were drawn to the erection tenting his joggers, but when I lifted my hand, he shook his head.

"No. You lie there and let me do all the work. Don't move." Pushing my—or his—hoodie and top out of the way to expose the entirety of my stomach area, he lowered his joggers, his hard cock coming into view, the head glistening with precum. His tongue swiped across his lips. "Mmm. You taste so good."

My cheeks heated, and he gave me that arrogant, sexy grin again before he began to stroke his length, his hand moving faster as I watched avidly, barely able to breathe as he chased his release while pinning me in place with his powerful thighs.

"Fuck," he groaned, giving his hand a twist, and then his cock pulsed, striping my lower body with his cum. It was so hot, and I was so. Fucking. Turned. On.

He slumped forwards, panting, and then he gave his cock one last, slow stroke, groaning again. "Don't move," he warned, his voice hoarse. His finger slid across my lower stomach, smearing his release over my skin. Then he moved it with purpose, and I suddenly realised he was writing letters on my body with his cum .

"W-what are you doing?"

His eyes met mine as he sat back, finally finished. "Making something clear. Read the word, and I want you to remember this."

Propping myself up on my elbows, I focused on the lines glistening on my skin. It was difficult to make it out at first, but I eventually got it.

The word he'd written?

Mine .