part he meant—grinding, hair-pulling, moaning—but she didn’t care. She gripped his hair again and pulled him closer, nipping gently at his bottom lip.
He growled, and it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.
Keeping one arm tucked under her hip he got them inside, kicking the door shut then slamming her up against it. Her leg slid to the ground as he eased himself back, immediately going for the tie of her dress. His breath hissed out as he pulled at the bow, and the dress slid open, working the way it was supposed to.
His low curse held such reverence it made her feel more beautiful than any romantic words that she’d ever heard.
He made quick work of her bra, then peeled her underwear down her legs, crouching in front of her, kissing as he went.
She stood in front of him naked except for her high-heeled shoes. She should feel self-conscious, especially since he was still completely dressed, but she didn’t. She felt beautiful and powerful and passionate.
Her head fell back against the door as he kissed his way back up her body, taking extra time on her most sensitive parts. They were both breathing heavily by the time his face made it back up to hers, and he took her lips in a kiss.
“I can’t wait. I can’t wait anymore,” he muttered.
“Then don’t.” She couldn’t wait either. “Take me right here. Just like you are.”
She reached down to unbutton his jeans. He grabbed a condom out of his wallet and ripped the package open with his teeth. She pushed down on his pants and boxer-briefs, watching in fascination as he slid the condom on.
Technically, they probably didn’t need it. She’d been on the pill for ten years. But watching him ease the condom over his length sent a primal sort of electricity through her.
But not nearly as primal as when he hooked her leg with his hand, opening her, and began sliding slowly inside.
She thumped her head back against the door as he stretched her, the burn both delicious and a little painful. He eased back out before pressing forward once again. Her fingers gripped at his shoulders. She wasn’t sure if she was pulling him closer or pushing him away.
He slid forward and she stiffened.
Oh no.
She wasn’t sure she could do this. Maybe her body didn’t work this way after all.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Stay with me, Cupcake. No thinking, just feeling.”
He kept her leg up on his hip as he eased his other hand between their bodies, his fingers rubbing away the pain of his gentle thrusts, leaving only delicious pleasure. She relaxed, softened, melted into him.
“Yes. There you go. So damned sexy.” His deep voice rasped in her ear, hoarse from the effort this slow pace was costing him.
His fingers continued their magic as his thrusts became easier. And harder. Now when she clutched at him it wasn’t because of pain, it was because she had to have him closer. Her hips rose to meet each push.
He hiked her leg higher, opening her wider, then grabbed her other leg, wrapping it around his hips, pinning her body against the door as he slammed into her over and over again.
All she could do was hold on to him.
And feel more alive than she’d ever felt before.
Chapter Twenty-One
Quinn sat staring at her computer in her TSC office. The damn thing wasn’t working right again. It had been on the fritz all day as she’d been using it in class.
Every slide she’d tried to pull up had been backward or out of order. It had been a huge pain in her ass.
But she was still smiling at it. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling.
Maybe it was because class had gone so well, despite her computer acting up. When the slides hadn’t worked, she’d shut the thing down. Then she and the class had really dug into their writing—what was going wrong, what was going right, and how to address some basic paragraph structure issues.
It was a far cry from the master thesis and doctoral dissertations she’d worked on at Harvard. Those tended to be complicated because complicated tended to be equated with intellectual, at least in those circles.
There was nothing complicated about what she was teaching at TSC now. Basic composition. Fundamentals of writing and understanding literature.
But the course involved important life skills. What she was teaching would make a difference in the emails her students sent to their bosses requesting a raise. Or there would be subject and verb