Nova and Quinton: No Regrets (Nova #3)(56)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

I shut my eyes and breathe in the her scent. “Wow,” I whisper, breathless, as she presses her face into the crook of my neck, my hands shaking so badly I’m sure she can feel it.

“Yes, wow,” she agrees, placing a kiss against my neck. She does it over and over again and with each one, I calm down inside. Still.

Suddenly, coming here to get her doesn’t seem as terrifying as before. In fact, I’m glad I did. A feeling that grows when she moves away from me and, before I have any time to react, leans forward and kisses me right on the lips.

Chapter 12

Nova

I probably shouldn’t have kissed him. It’s not what I came here for. I just needed to get away from all the sadness and pain over Delilah and Tristan, and when I thought of the one place that I might be able to do that, being by Quinton’s side was the first thing that came to mind.

Just friends, I kept telling myself during the airplane ride. We’re just friends.

But seeing him in the flesh, healthy, honey-brown eyes more full of life than I’ve ever seen, it ignited something inside, and without thinking, I found myself placing my lips to his. I start to pull back when I realize I probably shouldn’t have done that, but to my surprise, he presses his hand against my back and crushes our bodies together, deepening the kiss. My body conforms to his as I grasp him, my lips willingly part as his tongue slips deeper inside my mouth. The longer the kiss goes on, the more intense it gets, and before I know it my legs end up latched around his waist as his hands explore my body while he backs us up against the wall. I can barely breathe, only coming up for air when my lungs feel like they’re going to explode. I can’t take it anymore. I seriously want to tear off his clothes and run my hands across every part of him while he does the same to me.

But then suddenly he’s pulling away and the noise around us washes over me and I remember that I’m in a very public place.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Quinton whispers, resting his head against mine, his breathing ragged, my legs still fastened tightly around him.

“Yeah, me too,” I whisper back, basking in the feel of him, from the warmth of his skin to the feathery touch of his breath.

We stay that way for a moment before, finally, he lowers me back to the ground and lets go of me. Then he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, observing me intently. “Do you need to pick up anything from baggage claim?” he asks.

I shake my head and then reach around and pat the bag on my back. “This is all I brought,” I say. “I was in sort of a rush and I’m not even sure if I remembered to bring deodorant.”

He stares at me with a quizzical look, his eyes skimming over me. “Do you… do you want to talk about what’s going on?”

I press my lips together and shake my head, refusing to think about what made me run. Not right now, when the moment is so good. “No, not yet, but later.”

He cups my cheek in his hand. “Tell me what you need me to do… anything you need and I’ll get it for you.”

“Even if I said I needed a unicorn?” I shake my head at myself. I don’t know why I crack a joke but I do.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “That might be possible to be arrange, if I have some time,” he says. “But until then, what else do you need from me?”

My stomach grumbles in response. “How about breakfast?”

With a small smile, he nods and then takes my hand. “Breakfast it is, then.”

We walk out the door and head to the parking garage, holding hands, the clear sky above us. It feels weird but at the same time right. It feels like this is where I belong and I love the feeling, yet at the same time I hate it, because I know that I won’t be able to keep it this way. I have to start talking about what made me run.

* * *

“So you cook?” I say as he stirs some eggs in a pan. I honestly expected him to take me to a restaurant or McDonald’s to get breakfast, but instead he took me to his house, which is about as bare as a home can be, completely filled with boxes.

He shrugs, turning down the stove temperature as the eggs sizzle. “Yeah, I mean, nothing fancy.” He smiles at me over his shoulder. “But I can hold my own.”

I grin back at him from the kitchen table. “Can you make bacon, too?”

“So you’re picky,” he jokes with a chuckle. “But if anyone deserves to be, it’s you.”

My expression falters. “I’m not as great as you think.”

He grabs a plate from the cupboard. “Please talk to me.” He sets the plate down on the countertop and scoops up some eggs. “I don’t like seeing you sad.”

I trace the lines on the table with my head tipped down. “I’m worried if I tell you what’s going on… that it’ll upset you. And I don’t ever want to upset you.”

He doesn’t answer right away and when I hear him moving around, I force myself to look up. Our eyes meet as he sets a plate of eggs down in front of me. “Try me.”

I give him a wary look and then swallow hard. “Are you sure? Because it’s heavy stuff and I know you’ve been struggling with heavy stuff.”

Now he swallows hard as he sits down in the chair across from me. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He reaches across the table, his hand shaking as he gives my hand a soft squeeze. “I want to be here for you, and like I’ve said on the phone a hundred times, I’m not as fragile as you think.”

His touch makes it the slightest bit bearable to speak. “I’m not even sure where to start,” I say quietly. “It was like one minute I was completely okay and then all this stuff happened at once and I just needed to get the hell away from everything.”

“Life can be that way,” he says, letting go of my hand. “But I’m sure whatever’s happening with you, you’ll be able to handle it.” He offers me a smile as he picks up a fork. “You’re amazing with the heavy stuff.”

I poke at my eggs, deciding that the only thing I can do is rip off the Band-Aid. “I think Tristan might be doing drugs again.”

His arm muscles tense, his eyes widening for a split second, but then he quickly tries to compose himself. “For how long?”

“I’m not sure,” I mutter, playing with my eggs, feeling too nauseous to eat. “I’ve had my suspicions for a couple of weeks now, but last night some stuff happened and when I called him, he told me he was at a party and that he didn’t really care what happened to him, because life was shitty.” I leave out the kiss part. It’s irrelevant in my opinion because it didn’t mean anything to me.