Shudders rolled up my back and pulsed through my shoulders until all of that emotion transformed itself into ugly sobbing. My whole body shook as I remembered everything.

Every damn thing. Just like Ella had encouraged me to do.

“But I’ve got to move on. If anything, to honor you,” I panted out. “Because right now, I’m just doing whatever it takes to get by.”

I placed my head in my hand and rocked forward. “It’s fucking hard trying to be you. But you were good at it, Bastian. And I need to get better at being my own damn self.”

I felt Ella’s heat behind me, so I tugged her onto my lap, encircled her in my arms, and held her tightly against me. “Thank you,” I said against her ear, more than once.

I felt Ella’s tears dripping onto the back of my hands, her gaze fixed solidly on Sebastian’s grave.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” she whispered. “For bringing Quinn into my life.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Ella

At Quinn’s childhood home, we cooked burgers and ate them on the deck along with the margaritas he’d concocted for us, with salt around the rims. We sat together in a reclining chair, me propped between his legs, looking out at the view together.

His parent’s property extended into the woods and when you sat back here you felt like you were in a secluded oasis. Even though Quinn grew up lonely in this house, its gardens that were filled with lush hydrangea bushes, dogwood trees, and weeping willows were impressive. Lined along the back of the land were strapping pine trees that acted as a barrier between properties.

Between us and the outside world. And there was no other place I’d rather be. Maybe tonight could be the beginning of new memories for Quinn. For us. Here. Together.

Quinn’s mouth swept over mine while the crickets chirped, coyotes howled, and the fireflies lit up the night sky. I licked the salt from his lips and tasted the tequila on his tongue and felt so relaxed and at peace with his arms around me. Protecting me. Keeping my heart safe.

But he didn’t own me completely. Not yet. Nor I him. Not according to the conditions he had set before he’d made his confession to me. And mine to him.

But if he wanted to take me right here in this chair, I wouldn’t object.

He removed the margarita from my hand and set it next to his on the side table. Then he flipped me around so I was facing him, my legs dangling on either side of his thighs.

“Before we head out in the morning,” he said, nuzzling my chin, “would you mind stopping at my aunt and uncle’s?”

“I’d love to meet them,” I said, honored that he’d even ask. I knew how much they meant to him and now that he’d begun forgiving himself, maybe he’d let them back into his life.

He cupped my cheeks and stared deeply into my eyes. I felt a fluttering in my chest, like a hatchling testing its new wings.

Brushing his thumb against my lips, he said, “Gabriella Abrams?”

He was distracting me with the lips and the eyes and the breaths, so my voice faltered a bit. “D . . . Daniel Quinn?”

“I’m in deep. So very deep,” he whispered against my lips and a bolt of lightning shot straight to my core. “With this girl—who rocks my world with her amazing lips and her brilliant mind and her generosity.”

Now that baby bird was swooping and soaring, thrashing against my rib cage, and bursting out of my chest.

“I want to be with her.” His hot breath mingled with my own. “I want everything with her.”

This boy—this man—was asking for the moon and the stars. And I was willing to shoot us straight off the map. And offer him the entire universe.

“I’m . . .” I cleared my throat trying to swallow the tears that had begun to form there. “I’m in deep, too.”

He closed his eyes as if savoring my words. His long eyelashes brushed against his cheeks and his full red lips remained perfectly still, waiting on me.

“With this boy—whose kisses, bravery, and tender heart make me melt. Plus, he’s damn hot and I want him more than I’ve wanted anyone else in my life,” I murmured. He opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on me. “I want everything with him, too.”

Those were the last words uttered between us for a long passage of time.

Because all at once he stood up, taking me with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and secured my arms against his neck. His lips claimed mine, his tongue deep in my mouth—probing, penetrating, searching for his everything.

Sliding open the screen door with one hand, he walked us down the hall. He paused outside his room, which contained a queen-size bed, more lush and firm that the one I slept in at home.

Propping me against the wall, he flicked his tongue along my jawline and then moved up to my ear, where he pinned the fleshy lobe between his teeth. His body pressed so firmly, his groan reverberated so deeply, that I almost became liquid beneath him.

His hard bulge drove against my center and a loud moan burst from my throat. I clenched his hair in my fingers and thrust my hips against him. His eyes grew dark—so dark—as overwhelming desire coursed through them.

He laid me down in his soft sheets and then took his time undressing me. He lifted off my shirt and tugged down the straps of my bra. His tongue stroked my hard buds before pulling each breast into his mouth and sucking gently. My back curved off the bed and my nails bowed against his back.

The only sound in the room was of our breaths and moans. And whereas we’d always been so vocal before—boldly telling each other what we needed and how much we wanted each other—this time seemed different. Tender. Attentive. Reverent.

Our silence felt like a necessity as we touched, tasted, discovered, and worshipped.

His shirt joined mine on the ground and I licked the toned muscles on his chest and tasted the smooth skin on his stomach. He made swift work of unbuttoning his shorts and removing them. He knelt on the bed completely naked before me—allowing my gaze to trail over every ripple, curve, and angle. I slid my fingers down the center of his chest, in awe of how gorgeous he was—inside and out.

He flicked open the button on my pants and tugged them down, depositing them to the floor. Then he twisted me onto my stomach. I felt exposed to him, just like that first night in the bathroom—the first time I’d felt a flicker of desire for him—and now I wondered if he was thinking about that same moment.

But I didn’t want to breach our silence—this quiet serenity—to ask him.

Tonight was too special. Too perfect. Too right.

He swept my hair to the side and I felt his hot breath in my ear and then on my neck and I quivered in anticipation. He trailed his tongue between my shoulder blades and his hands snaked down to my underwear, outlining the curve of my ass with his fingers. I was hot and throbbing between my legs, sure that my underwear was already soaked.

His lips slid down the center of my spine and his fingers curved beneath the elastic of my panties as he tugged them down. I squirmed in arousal, muffling my moans into his pillow. Once he’d pulled the material from my legs, he continued kissing downward, while I writhed beneath him.

Quinn using his mouth and tongue and fingers so intimately was hands down the most sensual thing I’d ever experienced. I was dripping wet for him, thrusting my ass toward him, practically begging for him to take me from behind.

His fingers slid over my thighs to my stomach and I felt myself trembling beneath his touch. He positioned me onto my knees, his fingers found my sweet spot and I nearly exploded from the contact. While he rubbed my slick center, I felt his head move under my thighs.

Then all at once his hot tongue swiped against my opening. I groaned loudly and sank to the bed—but he held me up, anchoring me with his forearms.