my gosh, this is amazing.” It was an adult dollhouse, though big tough Quinn probably wouldn’t appreciate me saying so. The place was neat and clean, but with a lived-in look: a thriller open and facedown on the table, a CD case by the player, a jar of peanuts on the kitchen counter.
“Thanks. I like sailing, so I figure, why not have a comfortable boat and live on her. And being on the ocean’s good for getting the scent of fire out of my nostrils.”
My gosh, he lived here. He really had taken me to his home. “That makes sense.” I wondered, too, if having his family’s home burn down had made him wary of owning another. “But don’t you get claustrophobic?” Though the boat must be forty feet long, that was nowhere near as spacious as an apartment, and Quinn was a big man.
“Nah. When I’m inside, it’s cozy. Or I’ll be out sailing, or working on something on deck. On a boat, especially a wooden one, there’s always work to do. Or I go biking, windsurfing, hiking.” He opened the small fridge. “You’ve been a teetotaler all afternoon. Want a glass of wine? Beer?”
“White wine if you have it.” Half an hour ago, all I’d had on my mind was sex. Now, he’d given me so much more to intrigue me. I knew, from the still-present simmer of sexual awareness between us, that we’d end up in bed, but right now, getting to know him and his home was a kind of seductive foreplay. “Can I explore?”
“Help yourself.”
I accepted his invitation, aware of the boat moving gently, a reminder that below us, around us, was water, not dry land. It wasn’t unpleasant, just different. I discovered a cute little bathroom with a shower, and a V-shaped front cabin that was mostly bed. A bed big enough for the two of us, though there wasn’t much head room. “Is this where you sleep?”
“No, I’m in the aft cabin.”
“Aft?”
“Back. The master cabin. Though I use the V-berth when Gramps is on the boat. If things work out with Timothy, he’ll get the V-berth when we go out.”
“You’d take that boy sailing? Quinn, it’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll make sure he wears a life vest, learns the rules. Jade, I grew up on this boat.”
“Be sure you check with his mom first.”
“’Course I will. I’ll take her out, too, so she sees what’s involved.”
A twinge of jealousy made me hope Timothy’s mom was plain and boring, and wouldn’t be staying overnight on the Padraig O’Malley.
I walked from the front cabin to the aft one, fewer than ten steps, and opened the door. The room consisted mostly of a queen-size bed, along with built-in wooden cupboards and drawers. The ceiling was low but higher than Quinn’s head.
The whole boat was adorable yet somehow very masculine. I grinned at him as he handed me a chunky, blue-banded wineglass that looked Mexican. “Your boat is gorgeous. And suspiciously tidy. You knew I’d come back with you.”
“Let’s say hoped.” His dimple winked. “But it’s always pretty tidy. Small space like this, you have to keep things shipshape.” He raised a can of Coke and tapped it against my glass. “Glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I took a sip of crisp white wine. “Aren’t you drinking?”
“I’m on shift tonight at eight.”
A couple hours from now. We wouldn’t spend the evening together. Just as well. This interlude was threatening to slip the confines of box number three, the sexy box, and I really should refocus on my priorities. Later. After we had sex.
His dark eyes smoldered as he studied my face, igniting sparks of arousal. He stroked my hair, then tugged out the pins that secured it. “Great hair. I wanted to do this all afternoon.”
I shook my head so my hair tumbled over my shoulders. “It was hard to focus on business. All I wanted was to touch you. And feel you touch me.”
“Then let’s get naked. Now.”
“Naked would be very good.”
He ushered me into the back bedroom. “Not as big as yours, but it’ll serve the purpose.” Small windows let in bright drifts of sunshine that fell across the navy duvet, and one was open to a soft sea breeze. He pulled a cord and mini-blinds clattered down over the window on the dock side of the boat.
Without further ado, he unbuttoned my top, unzipped my pants, and stripped both garments off me. Today’s undies were white, a lacy thong and demi-bra. His lips curved. “Hmm, maybe I’m changing my mind about naked. Damn, Jade, you look hot.”
“While you’re deliberating…” I tugged his golf shirt free from his pants and pulled it up. He took over, and yanked it off while I went to work on his belt and zipper. Then I shoved his pants down to reveal black boxer briefs that barely confined his erection.
He looked hot, too, but for me there was no debate: naked was best.
When I’d removed all his clothing, the pent-up lust and everything else—the way he’d mingled at the picnic, the boy Timothy, his brother Patrick, his grandfather—flooded through me. I launched myself at him, toppling him onto the bed with me atop him. He grabbed my butt with one hand, pulling me against his groin. His other hand tangled in my hair, brought my head down to his; then his mouth captured mine in a long, breathless kiss.
Mindlessly, frantically, our lips and tongues meshed, our bodies ground against each other. I tasted passion, Coke, a bright copper nip of blood where a tooth had broken skin. His, mine, it didn’t matter.
One-handed, he released the back clasp of my bra and pulled the garment from between our heated chests. I moaned into his mouth as my sensitive breasts rubbed against his firm pecs, taut nipples, curls of hair, and my nipples tightened.
The last time we’d had sex, I hadn’t had an opportunity to explore his body. This time would be different. Despite the seductive press of his rigid cock against my belly, I eased away from him, breaking the kiss, and went up on my hands and knees as I straddled him. I blew warm breath across his chest, circled a nipple with my tongue, teased it between my lips, then did the same to the other one. Touching him turned me on, and I felt moisture trickle down my thighs.
“Turn around,” he said. “Let me get in on the action.”
He’d get no argument from me. I swung around on the bed and he shifted down so his legs hung off the end, giving me room to straddle him in the opposite direction. When I returned my attention to his nipple, my breasts hung down in his face.
He gathered them in his hands, then buried his face in them with a muffled, “Oh, Christ.” When he sucked my already budded nipple into his mouth, I moaned approval. This man knew exactly how to touch me. How to stoke the sparky fire of arousal.
As I worked my way down his body, he lavished attention on my breasts until he could no longer reach them. But I didn’t care, because now I was focused on his cock. It rose up his belly, full and heavy, the epitome of male virility. The heady, musky scent of his arousal filled my nostrils as I explored the crown with my tongue, lapping the resilient velvety skin.
The sight and scent of him was so erotic, my pussy pulsed
