With Every Heartbeat(100)

He gently smoothed his rough fingers over my face before tucking my hair behind my ears. “Have you ever done this before?”

I almost blurted out a laugh. But done this? I’d never even kissed anyone before he’d brushed his mouth against mine only minutes ago in the front room. So, no, I’d never lain on a bed underneath a guy, and I’d certainly never done what he was really asking.

I settled for shaking my head a second time.

Tenderness entered his face. I think he liked my answer. He kissed the tip of my nose. “Can I show you how?”

I nodded, and he flashed me his dimples.

“We have to communicate a lot,” he whispered, “let each other know what we do and don’t like.”

I smiled, because, “I like everything so far,” I whispered back.

When I circled his face with the tips of my fingers, hoping he liked that, his gaze met mine. “So, do I.”

Then this expression entered his face, like awe, as if he couldn’t believe it was me under him and not someone else. It reminded me of the exact way I felt. I was here with Quinn, like this. I just could not believe this was happening.

“What else should I know?” I asked, eager to learn.

“Kissing,” he said right before he lowered his mouth to mine. “Kissing it important.”

Our lips absorbed each other, exploring and moving until our tongues joined in, and it was just as powerful as our first kiss. Maybe more so.

“I like kissing,” I gasped out, cradling his face and burying my fingers in his rich, thick hair as he nibbled his way down my neck.

“It gets better.”

Oh, God. I swallowed and then sucked in a hard breath when his teeth nipped at a sensitive spot on my pulse.

Body on fire and throbbing in more places than I could count, I arched up against him. “How? Show me.”

“Touching,” he said. “Touching and kissing both.”

Thus began the pleasure assault of his fingers. Up my neck, into my hair, clutching my scalp as he kissed me deeper, then down again, over my shoulders, along my arms, catching my hip, curving around the swell of my bottom and digging his nails in as he canted my hips up and ground his erection into my core.

I couldn’t take much more of this. I had to... I had to...

“Can I touch you too?” My voice was high and desperate.

“Yes.” He took my wrist and pressed my palm flush against the center of his chest, right over his heart. “Touch wherever you like. Learn me, Zoey.”

Dazed that I was actually doing this, I watched my hand, entranced as I moved it down, over his shirt. Mesmerized by the power and strength I felt rippling under the cotton, I moved back up, still unable to believe I was touching him however I pleased.

He pulled back and sat up on his haunches long enough to grasp the back of his shirt and tear it off over his head. And oh, my... My greedy hands returned to him, a little more certain, and a lot more curious.

“You’re so warm and hard, yet soft.”

“Not as soft as you.” He leaned down and kissed me again, petting his hand down my side until he reached the hem of my shirt. I was too busy delighting my way over his bulky, warm arms and thick shoulders, then pausing at the stubble on his jaw, before having a field day in his hair, to care what he did with my shirt. It didn’t even alarm me when his fingers swooped under the cloth and skimmed over the flesh at my waist. Heck, I arched my back to give him more access. He took it, moving his palm up and his mouth down until they met at my breasts. As he cupped the bottom half and kissed the top through layers of cloth, I reacted wildly, not expecting how strongly an electrical current would shoot right out the ends of my nipples, and definitely not ready to feel it deep in my core.

I clutched him, my hands curling instinctively around his back to anchor him against me. When my fingers encountered scar tissue, I faltered. Crap, I’d forgotten about his wounds. Quinn jerked and made a sound in the base of his throat as if he wasn’t quite sure how to react to my discovery.

I wanted to inspect each laceration and love them, kissing every single one of them. But now didn’t seem like the time, so I ventured south until I came to the waistband of his jeans. Needing him to know he hadn’t repulsed me in any way, I kept going, inside his jeans, under the band of his boxers and down until I cupped cool, smooth buttocks. Then I squeezed.

He groaned and bit down a little more enthusiastically onto my breast before he was whipping my shirt over my head.

For a brief moment, I panicked. What if he saw how skinny and puny I was and turned disgusted? What if—

“It’s okay,” he murmured, stroking one side of my hair as he buried his nose into the other. “You’re so beautiful. I just want to see you.” He pulled back. “Just want to worship every inch of you.”