Love Me Crazy (28 page)

I open my eyes and gasp. I. Love. Him.

Quinn sits on the bench, legs outstretched, ankles crossed as if he’s enjoying a movie. How did I not hear him or feel the bench move when he sat?

“It’s perfect out here, isn’t it?” he asks. He doesn’t ask why I ran or why I’m sitting in a heap on the ground in near panic. “Walk with me.” He holds his hand out.

I shake my head.

“Please?” The moonlight casts shadows over his face but highlights the tiny hairs outlining his jaw.

“
I can’t.” I glance over my shoulder at the open gate and the glow of lights marking the festivities beyond the hedges.

“You can’t or you won’t?” His voice is a hush, barely audible over the ensemble of crickets and the intermittent whine of a nearby tree frog. He pulls his hand back and slides his palm against his leg.

“Both.” I squeeze the bench arm, easing up when the paint disintegrates under the pressure.

“You’re questioning everything. I can tell. You’ve got to give us more time to prove this is real.” Quinn slides closer and wraps his hand over mine. “We are real.”

“I know. You’re real. I’m real. What I feel is real.”

“Then what’s the problem?” His hand squeezes mine, rooting me to the spot.

“I guess there isn’t one. I think it just, kind of, dropped on me like a bucket of ice.” I pull up and step back, distancing myself from the overpowering whirlpool of emotions dragging me toward him.

“What did?” He rises off the bench and steps toward me.

I stumble backward, afraid I’ll show him instead of tell him, and right now, he needs to hear the words. I need to hear them. I need to believe them before we take this further. And I’m soooo taking this further. I lean against a tree, its rutty bark pokes me while screaming
Do it, do it. Tell him.

“It’s crazy,” I admit.

“Try me.” His fingers press into my hips, squeeze me tight like he’s afraid if he gives a little, I’ll be gone.

“Love.” I jerk him closer by his tie.

“
Yeah, that
is
crazy.” He shakes his head.

My smile drops. My hand does, too. I grab the tree behind me, wishing suddenly I hadn’t cornered myself. I bite my lip and glance at the rusted gate. “I, uh . . . sorry. I must have—”

“What’s crazy is that you just realized it. What’s crazy is how much I want you.” His breath stutters against my skin, lacing his yearning with need.

“Thank God,” I heave out in relief. “I thought you meant—”

He crashes his lips into mine, shutting me up and knocking my heart from my chest. I arch forward, answering his desire, pressing into him to take what I need. His hands dig into me with possession so deep, I forget to separate where we are and who could potentially see us from the passion he awakens.

Quinn anchors my wrists above me as his lips sear my neck, explore my collarbone, my shoulder. His free hand traces my dress’s neckline and feathers over my chest. Slowly, as if my desire is too much for the dress, buttons pop open, releasing my bound cleavage.

I gasp, pushing into his playful fingers tracing my breasts. I tilt my chin up, exposing more skin, arching my back so acutely, my nipple finds his lips. The heat from his mouth saturates my skin, chasing the damp chill clinging to me with desperate heat. His tongue teases me as his fingers release more buttons and push my corset down.

My nipples grow taught under his delicate touch. He adds his tongue, winding around the sensitive tip, sucking it in. Good God, I could come on the spot. I claw the tree, bite my lip, but nothing makes me feel less good, less . . . turned on.

His hand gripping my wrists slips down my arm. “Tell me you want this.” He whispers between kisses. His words drag along my skin, heating me. Enticing me. “Or tell me to stop.”

My
body aches for him to press into me, to touch me everywhere but the dress hinders my needs, making the intensity unbearable. My skin, ultrasensitive, my body, craving to feel him buried inside me, begs me to lose myself in him, just as I want him to lose himself in me.

“I want this.” My labored breathing gives away my frustration, which is kind of hot and kind of embarrassing at the same time. Me desperate? Hell, yes.

Quinn smooths my swollen lips with his thumb. “You’re
my
grace, Cassidy.”

What? I suck in and hold a breath.

“My
saving
grace.” He smiles. He presses his forehead against mine and sighs. “If there’s any reservations, if you’re hanging from the edge, this is the time to tell me. I can save you, too.” He kisses my nose. My lips. My chin. “If you won’t let go, I
will
climb up there, because I refuse to believe you don’t trust me enough to love me completely.”

“Completely,” I whisper. “But I do, Quinn. I love you irrationally and completely and obsessively.”

He’s left a mark, and to erase it means smothering what I want to give him in return.

His lips track up my neck. I move my lips toward his, into his, devouring everything he’s offering. I want to feel everything, every touch, every breath, every quake. The fire in his eyes illuminate everything I could have.

Hurried breaths chase our hungry kisses. He lifts my dress, fumbles through the fabric, causing me to release a sigh when his fingertips find me. He pulls my panties to the side, slips a finger inside me, the wetness letting him massage my folds with ease.

“So wet,” he growls. “God, I want you.”

“Yes, that. Want me, Quinn. Please.” I drag my hands down his pressed shirt, wanting to free his arousal, needing him inside me.

He
grabs my wrist, fingers squeezing into my skin and shakes his head. He presses my hands against the bulge in his pants. “I don’t have a condom.” He moves my hands to my skirts, bunching the fabric together as he lifts his knee to press into my heat.

“I’m on birth control. And clean.” I grip my skirt, hands vanishing in the silk and tulle petticoats. “Are you?”

“Yes, but”—he shakes his head— “are you sure?”

I nod.

He unbuckles his belt, loosens his pants, dropping the front and spreading it enough to free his erection. He leans into me, the heat from his cock searching for me through the fabrics. “Positive you’re okay with this?”

I raise my skirt higher, press my upper back against the tree, and drive my hips toward him. “Irrationally and completely.”

He grabs my thigh to guide my leg over his, then leans forward and drives me insane, teasing my entrance with his tip.

“Quinn,” I beg.

He plunges into me.

I cry out as his delicious curves slide between mine, burning me with the beginnings of an orgasm. I wrap my leg around him, pulling him closer, wanting desperately to rip the fabric in my hands.

His lips cover my breast, sucking my nipple, teething it, devouring it until I’m panting. Close to unraveling, my breaths vibrate.

“Not yet, love.”

“
I can’t.” I move my arm to his shoulder, pressing into him, lifting myself up so I can enjoy the ride back down. “I need . . .”

He pulls me off the tree, taking my weight in his arms, lowering to his knees until I’m straddling his lap. His lips drag down my throat, nip at the sensitive skin where my neck becomes my shoulder. He reaches beneath my dress, grabbing my ass, pulling me into him so he buries deep. My insides ache, pulsing around him in spasms mimicking my erratic heartbeat. My dress plumes up between us, separating our hearts.

My fingers sink into the moss as I arch back and push my hips forward, searching for the edge, the moment his up and my down collide into bliss. I release a fiery breath; his name rides on the current.

He buries his fingers into me, then revs back, plunges forward, pulling me into him. My hands lift off the ground. I fall forward, pressing into his shoulders until my fingers ache. I lift my gaze, and an unfamiliar feeling stirs in my chest. A warm collection of acceptance, growth, and love.

Quinn slows, gathering me to him, pulling out and sinking in with unhurried, breath-halting thrusts. “It’s okay to give in and take it all. I want you to have it, Cass. All of me.”

I close my eyes as a storm of heat lightning charges me. Wrapping around him, I squeeze pleasure from him. I answer his plea with his name on my breath. I give him what he wants, falling back, taking him deep until my name leaves his lips as a whisper. He squeezes my hip hard enough to leave bruises as he pulses to a finish.

I fall forward, crushing my dress between us, and sigh. I close my eyes and gather the parts of me that floated up to the stars and tie strings to them like balloons so I can savor them later. How in the hell will I survive the man who just took up residence in my heart?

A
trill of violins reminds me why I’m wearing a corset, a gazillion layers of insulation and a fancy dress from another century. I shoot off Quinn’s lap and right my corset, tucking my breasts in. “Your speech. You can’t—”

“They can’t do it without me. I haven’t missed anything.” He rises slowly, like we have all day.

“Your mom likes things precise, timed by
her
watch. Not mine. Definitely not yours. But hers. And I swear it runs eight minutes fast.” I smooth his shirt around his waistband, tucking in the wrinkles to hide clues we’d romped yet again. His tie has a mean crease in the center. Nothing I can do about that.

“Hey, we’re fine.” He stills my fumbling hands. “No one saw us, and music is still playing. That means we haven’t been missed.”

I take a deep breath and organize the crimps in my skirt. I check my bodice, retie the back. Was it this tight before? Feels like I’m suffocating.

“Cassie, you’re perfect. I promise.”

I tighten his tie and smile. “Yeah, so are you.”

He hands me my bag and fan, then escorts me toward the crowd where couples twirl under magical lights. “Let’s leave,” Quinn suggests.

Yes, that would be fantastic. I twist my neck around, preparing for the fight my feet will have with cooperation. “After your speech. And you should dance with your mom.” I study the women conversing with Mrs. Covington.

“
Mmmm
, no.” Quinn pulls me against him and nuzzles my cheek. “I’ll do the speech, but after you dance with me.” He leads me toward the dance floor.

I
plant my feet, fending for the opposite direction because of the heads we’ve turned and the murmurs we’ve created.

“Just dance. Don’t worry about anyone else.” He pulls me into waltz position in line with the other dancers. The music plays but he doesn’t move.

Others flow around us, staring because we’re blocking traffic. “Quinn, go. Everyone’s watching.”

I hide my face, hoping no one knows who I am and Mrs. Covington doesn’t see the I-just-screwed-your-hot-son glow on my face. How’s that for inciting gossip?

Quinn walks me to the center of the dance floor.

“Are you crazy? This is for, like, really,
really
good dancers.” I try to flee but he pulls me close.

“And hopeless romantics like me.” He tucks my arm between us and squeezes my hand against his heart, nestling his thumb in my palm. His other hand warms my lower back, claiming me as his as he squishes away the space between us.

I lock eyes with him. Everything around me disappears, as if sucked through a vacuum leaving us standing untouched and unfazed. I soften against him and wind my free hand over his shoulder, around his neck, stroking the tattoo exposed above his collar as if I’m painting it.

“It hit me when you were dancing with Wes. Mom wants me under her whip again. She’s using you to get me there.”

“She can’t use me. She’s—”

“You”—Quinn presses his lips against mine— “changed me for the better. Not her. That kills a control freak like Mom. I should’ve realized it sooner, but man, she’s good. She kept me
busy
on the dance floor with my sisters. And they fell into her trap, too, making you a dance card. She knew they’d follow the rules.”

“I imagine she’s surrounded herself with the same crowd for years. She’s probably just uncomfortable with change, and seeing you with me, well . . . I’m an outsider.” He comes to a complete stop and I trip over his foot.

“Look around. I am, too.”

“Hardly. You’re John Quincy Covington the eleventy-ninety-seventh. You’re historic, antebellum hotness, and every girl here would kill to take my place.”

“Me?”

“Stop stroking your ego. Your mom’s used to class and grace. Cotillions and society debuts. Girls that have heritage and strong Southern roots like your sisters. I’m a Boston girl who dissed her family, begging for acceptance in a state I don’t call home. There’s less corruption to your lineage if you and your sisters date someone from here.”

He drops his hands from my waist. “I have everything.” He closes the gap between us, cradles my cheeks with his palms, and pulls my lips to his. He drops a hand, wraps it around me, and grips me until I ache because I’m starving for him. He deepens our kiss, pulling me against him. I have no choice but to thread my hands over his shoulders and devour him in the same devoted manner. He presses his forehead against mine, forcing us apart. Our breaths, full and strong, tug on the same air. “No speech. I need you to corrupt me.”

“You just had me.”

“
Mmmm
, I did, but I want to make love to you over and over. Kiss you from head to toe. Worship your beautiful freckles. I want your curves against mine. To watch your lips part in the center, just before you kiss me. I want and need to love you crazy, right now.”

His
words wind around me like a ribbon, tightening me to him, knotting out of reach so I’ll never attempt to untie us.

“Okay,” I say, and take a breath. “Then love me crazy.”

Chapter
26

Cassidy

This love stuff makes my body react oddly. I’m sure I’m blushing to my toes.

“Want to request a carriage while I tell Ellie we’re leaving?” Quinn kisses me on the forehead. “Won’t take but a second, she’s all for us working out.”

“Sure. I’ll meet you around front.”

I dodge out of the dancers’ way and duck as several waiters carrying trays of champagne pass by. The toast. I spin in the doorway. Ellie deserves the toast and Quinn worked diligently on getting the words right. I hold one of the porch columns and push to my tiptoes. Ellie and her friends stand huddled in a group, laughing and all smiles. I don’t see Quinn anywhere. Maybe he scooted around the side of the house.