Quincy had been a part of his life for years, albeit on the other side of the country. Phone calls, texts, and social media were his only contact with her. Yet she pushed him, made him laugh all the time … and made him ache … in more ways than one. Instead, he could just listen to her pain. And right now, he ached. Seriously, what the actual fuck had he been thinking? Her head lightly butting into his arm pulled him from their woefully uneventful past, and his eyes to her upturned lips and smiling eyes.
Moving from his side to in front of him, she looked up, a challenge stood in her bright eyes. She knew what he was thinking. Taking a step forward, his height cast a shadow upon her from the parking lot lamp behind him, darkening her features.
After a few, long, quiet moments, Quincy, of course, broke the silence. Drew brought his head to her ear, curbing the urge to nibble on the lobe. Instead, he spoke. When she made eye contact with him again, his mouth slowly curved into a victorious smile. The impatient crash of her lips finally against his shut him up, her kiss surging through his veins. Her hands grasped his face and he pulled her body firmly against his. Fuck, yes. This is what should have been done all those years ago … and then some.
He needed to be closer. With his fingers digging into her hips, he backed her up into the side of his SUV, working his body against hers, his tented pants nestled against her stomach. Her tortured groan broke the kiss and his lips left hers and traveled along her cheekbone to nibble at her earlobe while his hand seared a path under her shirt and up her abdomen to her breast, finding the nipple marble hard.
As he kneaded the soft globe and his free hand pushing up her shirt, cold water droplets began to pelt his head and shoulders, the temperature difference between him and them sending shivers through his body.
