Man Candy (24 page)

to love someone.

How could I tell him what that meant

to me? I wasn’t good at revealing myself

with words, but I could show him.

And I would.

“Quinn,” I whispered frantically. “I

want you inside me. Fuck the condom.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes searched

mine in the dark.

“Yes.” My entire body ached for him

to fill it. “I want you so badly right now,

I can’t describe it—I want you so badly

it hurts.”

“I want you too.” He took over,

taking his cock in his hand and guiding it

between my legs.

I was so wet he slid in easily, but he

went slow, his eyes closing. When he

was buried inside me, he opened them,

and we held still for a moment, just

looking at each other.

My heart was thundering in my chest,

and I felt his doing the same. His hand

slid over my hip, pulling me tighter to

his body, and I hitched my leg up even

higher, making the angle even better.

“This feels so good,” he whispered.

“I don’t even want to move, it will be

over too quickly. But I have to…” He

began to move his lower body in that

slow, sinuous motion I loved, the one

that had him rubbing all the right places,

inside and out. “You make me so hard.”

“Don’t worry, I’m with you,” I said,

matching his rhythm with my hips. “I

promise.”

It didn’t take long for the intensity to

build, especially knowing we were

doing it without a condom—breaking a

rule!—
on purpose
. Before long, Quinn

had me on my back, his cock driving

hard and deep, my nails digging into his

ass, our bodies damp with water and

sweat. Higher and higher we climbed,

desperate for release, unable to stop, but

unwilling to leave the other behind.

“Now,” he said hotly, his breath in

my ear. “Come for me. Let me feel you

come on my cock before I—”

I lost the rest of what he was saying,

my senses abandoned, my universe

reduced to the shared pulse between us.

I don’t know where my orgasm stopped

or his began; they ran together, fed off

each other, kept us clutching at one

another, trying against all odds to get

deeper, get closer, get
more
.

When his body collapsed on top of

mine, I felt grateful for the weight of it,

the way it grounded me, stopped me

from floating into the sky. I held him to

me with my arms and legs, pressed my

lips to his neck, breathed him in deep.

“Are you OK?” He lifted his chest

off me and looked down. “Sorry, I didn’t

mean to crush you.”

“You’re not. Come back.” I pulled

on his shoulders. “I wasn’t suffocating, I

was sniffing you.”

He laughed and lowered himself a

little, propping himself on his elbows

above my shoulders. “Is this OK?”

“Yes.” I ran my hands up his sides,

over his chest, and into his hair. “Just

don’t leave yet.”

“OK.”

I looked up at him and realized it

wasn’t that I didn’t want him to leave

yet; I didn’t want him to leave
at all
.

I wanted him next to me all night. I

wanted to fall asleep in his arms and

wake up with him beside me. I wanted to

talk more about his mom and my mom

and our childhoods. I wanted to whisper

about the future and what it might hold. I

wanted to laugh about my rules and how

he’d somehow convinced me to break

every one of them without even

appearing to try. I wanted to let him all

the way in.

I wanted to love him.

“Quinn,” I whispered, brushing the

hair back from his face. “I don’t want

you to leave me tonight.”

He hesitated. “Does that mean you

want me to stay?”

“Yes.”

“The night?”

“Yes.”
Please don’t tease me right

now. Don’t ask me what it means. Don’t

remind me of the rules. Just trust me.

Let me give you more, a little at a time.

“OK,” he said, kissing me softly.

“I’ll stay.”

I DRIFTED off to sleep spooned in

Quinn’s embrace.

“You’re sure you’re OK?” he asked

for the tenth time. “I’m not crowding

you?”

“For fuck’s sake, Quinn.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I know how you

get.”

“What I’m getting right now is

irritated. I’m tired, go to sleep.”

“OK, OK.”

I’d like to say we spooned all night,

but I probably only lasted about twenty

minutes before I got too hot, rolled onto

my stomach, and hitched up my knee

between us.

But I tried—that counts, right?

And even though we weren’t

wrapped up in each other all night, I did

like knowing he was there in my bed.

The couple times I woke up and

remembered the night before, I smiled

into my pillow, happier than I’d been in

a long time.

In the morning, I woke up first and

lay on my side, facing him. He was

beautiful even in his sleep, his features

completely relaxed. Lying on his back,

he had one arm thrown over his head,

and I had the weirdest urge to sniff his

armpit. (Don’t judge. As armpits go, it’s

pretty much perfect.)

I refrained from pit sniffing, but I

couldn’t resist touching his chest, which

was visible above the top of the sheet.

Scooting a little closer, I traced a line

down the center of his sternum with my

fingertips, then covered one pectoral

muscle with my palm.

His eyes opened, and he smiled.

“Hey.”

I smiled too. “Hey.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Great. You?”

“Same. What time is it?”

“I have no idea. I never brought my

phone in here.”

“Me either. I’m not even sure where

my clothes are. That seems to happen a

lot around you.”

I giggled. “I think they’re in a variety

of places between our two flats.”

“It was a good night.”

“It was.” I kept looking at him,

waiting for the remorse to kick in, the

urge for him to leave, the compulsion to

be by myself…but I felt none of that. Not

only was I happy he was there, but I

didn’t want him to go.

“We broke a rule,” he said, a sly grin

on his face. “Are you mad at us?”

I propped my head in my hand.

“Actually, no. Can you believe it?”

“No.” His eyes went wide, twinkling

with mischief. “Does this mean…”

I reached out and put two fingers

over his lips. “No. It means I had fun and

I’m glad you stayed the night.”

He kissed my fingers and grabbed

my wrist. “Party pooper. Get over here.”

Pulling me close, he gathered me into his

chest, arms wrapped around my head,

chin resting on top of it. “Give me ten

seconds of excessive cuddling, and then

I’ll let you go.”

I groaned for effect, but if he could

have seen my face, he’d have known

how happy I was.

What on earth was happening?

THREE DAYS LATER, I met Claire

and Margot for our weekly GNO. It was

my turn to pick the place, and I chose

Standby, a relatively new bar in the Belt

Alley that had great cocktails and

delicious small plates.

I got there first, ordered a Vermilion

Fizz, and took a minute to text Quinn.

Hey. At Standby with girls. See you

tonight?

Definitely. Have fun and knock

when you get home.

After that there was a little

bumblebee emoji, which Quinn had

designated the “love bug.” Shaking my

head, I quickly checked his Instagram

account, where he’d posted a pic from

this morning. I’d probably looked at it a

hundred times already today, but I

couldn’t resist peeking at it again. We’d

still been lying in his bed, and he’d

snapped a selfie right as he kissed my

cheek, which I didn’t even realize

because I was laughing at something

he’d said and my eyes were closed. My

hair was a mess and the picture was kind

of blurry, but it captured
us
perfectly.

His caption was simply
This girl.
#wcw

#sweetpea

“What are you smiling about?”

Claire took off her coat and hung it on

the chair across the table from me.

“Nothing.” I tucked my phone into

my purse, embarrassed to be caught

grinning like an idiot at a screen.

“Does nothing stand about six foot

two, have piercing blue eyes, and a great

big dick?”

I shrugged, but I couldn’t keep the

blush from my cheeks. “Maybe.”

“God, what is going
on
with you?”

she demanded, sliding onto the seat. “If I

didn’t know better, I’d say you were in

love.”

I coughed in protest, even as the

room started to spin. “Please. I’m not in

love. I’m just…enjoying myself. Isn’t

that allowed?”

“Of course it’s
allowed
. It’s just very

unlike
you to enjoy yourself with one

guy for this long.”

“I know. It does feel a bit strange,” I

admitted as Margot breezed in and sat

down next to Claire.

“What does?” she asked, shrugging

out of her jacket and glancing around.

“Do they have a coat check here? Or a

rack?”

“I don’t know. Here, I’ll take it.” I

reached out and took her heavy camel

coat and set it on the bench next to me.

“Thanks. Now what’s strange?” she

asked.

“Being in love,” Claire interjected.

“Being with Quinn,” I said firmly,

giving Claire the evil eye.

The server came over with my drink

and took their orders. When he was

gone, Margot asked, “But is it good

strange? Being in a couple?”

“Yeah.” I took a sip. “Mm, that’s

good.” Everything tasted good these last

few days.

“Did you break the sleepover rule?”

Claire’s expression was smug, and I

knew the color was back in my cheeks

again.

“Uh, we did, actually. On Saturday

night.” I took another sip. “And then

again on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday.”

Their jaws dropped, and then they

looked at each other.

I burst out laughing. “You guys look

so funny.”

“I can’t believe it,” Claire said,

shaking her head. “You’ve spent four

nights in a row together?”

“Yes. I can hardly believe it either.”

We’d spent the first two in my flat and

the last two in his. Who knew where

we’d end up tonight?

“And you’re OK with it?” Margot

scrutinized my face. “You don’t feel

smothered?”

“No. It’s kind of insane.” I played

with the stem of my glass as I confessed.

“I’m actually liking the closeness. I

mean, I don’t like him right on top of me

all the time, I still like my personal

space, but…” I shrugged. “I like when

he’s there.”

“Holy shit. You’ve got a boyfriend,

Jaime.” Margot looked amused.

“What? No, I don’t.” I felt my face

getting hotter, and I focused on taking a

drink of my cold cocktail.

“You do. You so do.” Grinning, she

sat back as the server set their drinks

down. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

You don’t need a support group.”

“I know. I just…don’t really want a

boyfriend,” I insisted. “We agreed not to

put that kind of label on things, and I

think it’s helping me be comfortable with

what we’re doing.”

“Which is what?”

“Dating. Having fun. Enjoying each

other’s company.” I paused. “Often

naked.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Sounds like

a boyfriend to me.”

“Claire, please. A boyfriend is more

serious. Like Tripp. Tripp’s a

boyfriend.”

“For now, anyway.” Margot sighed.

“Did you talk to him yet?” I asked,

kind of hoping to get off the subject of

Quinn. The truth was, I didn’t know

exactly what we were doing or what to

call it or what would happen next week

when he moved out. I was hoping we’d

be able to keep it just like this—light

and fun, strings but no labels, meaningful

but not serious. Anything more than that,

and I started to hyperventilate.

“No. I didn’t want to ruin Valentine’s

Day. We were having dinner with Mimi

and Deuce,” she said glumly. “But I

can’t put it off much longer. I’m

miserable not knowing.”

Because that is what serious

relationships do to people
, I reminded

myself.
That’s what falling in love does

—jacks up their hopes and creates

impossible expectations. Misery is

inevitable.

But later, as Quinn moved inside me

and the stars exploded and the heavens

opened up and the earth spun so wildly

out of control I clung to him like a

terrified child, I knew I had to be

careful.

All my rules were broken.

All my walls were down.