Sweet Ache

The simplicity of the last line and the conviction with which he says it melts my heart. Simple terms that mean so much to me. I look at him, my bad-boy rocker who’s such a good man, and I know there is no one else I’ll ever want to be wanted by. Just him.

“Whew,” I tell him, my smile so wide I feel like my cheeks are going to crack. “And I thought you were going to say you just want me to be naked.”

He bursts out laughing, his fingers tickling over my ribs momentarily before he brings his lips to mine. “Oh, I definitely want a lot of that. I mean that’s a requirement of this thing we have here.”

“Oh it is, is it?”

“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs in that melodic way of his that turns me inside out. “Who else is going to be the star to my burst?”

I just shake my head at him and his ludicrous sweet tooth. “I thought I was the fruit to your loop?” I tease, loving the feeling of his hands on me, of our bodies pressed together, the feeling of his heart pounding so hard against mine.

“Sweetness, I’ll take you any way I can get you. All I want is to make it count, make this count, make us count.” He pleads with me like he’s making a case. And I don’t think he realizes that he doesn’t have to tie in my no regrets, make it count motto to convince me to pick him because there is no need.

This girl is already madly in love with him, tattooed pink heart and all.

And for some reason I’ve been so afraid to voice it, have held back the words on my tongue so many times. I was afraid that if I let him know how much I cared for him we would fall to the fate of my many other relationships. That the pushing-away defense mechanism that was ingrained in him would take over and I haven’t wanted to rock our boat.

But sitting astride him naked, hearing his confession, his reasoning, while he makes a case for me to choose him tells me how stupid I’ve been to wait. That he needs to hear it too. If he believes in us enough to permanently ink a tattoo when he’s only ever chosen symbols of all that he holds close, I know it’s time.

I can’t resist any longer. I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips as tears swim in my eyes. My heart swells with love for him and I need him to know. “I love you, Hawkin Play.”

He pulls back and now the tables have turned, his eyes are shocked wide and his expression becomes one of surprised enamorment. The image will be forever burned on my mind, the feeling ingrained in my soul.

“I’ve never fallen in love before, Quin…. I’ve never allowed myself to, but I know you are the only one I want to write the next song of my life with.”

I meet him halfway, fingers sifting through his hair, lips sealing our connection, hearts entwining with each other’s in a lazy decadent kiss teeming with emotion. He brings his hands to frame my face tenderly as he leans back and looks in my eyes, his breath still feathering over my lips.

“Love is nothing more than a meaningless word in a lyric until someone comes along and makes the music to bring it to life … and sweetness, you’re helping me make music for it, one instrument at a time.” The smile spreads wide on my lips, my body reacting to the thought of being played by Hawkin. I laugh softly and need to sate my simmering desire with another kiss, but he holds my face firm. My eyes flick back up to see a new intensity in his gaze.

“I love you, Quinlan.” He murmurs the words but to me it sounds like he is shouting them from the rooftops. And damn it feels good to know we’re both going into this on an open playing field with clear eyes, full hearts, glitches expected, and vulnerability exposed.

“Hey, Hawke?” My heart overflows with so much joy I can hear it in my own voice.

“Mm-hmm?” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine but dick stirring back to life beneath me.

I angle my head and a lascivious smirk turns up the corner of my mouth. “I finally know the answer to the question.”

“The question?”

“If it’s true you can play my body like a guitar.”

He shifts his body some so that he can look at me better, and I love the mischievous smile that lights up his face. “Hmm,” he murmurs as he runs a finger up and down my arm, my body reacting instantly. “So?”

“Well, you sure know how to pluck my strings right,” I say, brushing a soft kiss against his lips that garners me a low hum.

“And?”

“You can make my body sing,” I say, the smile that comes to my lips so natural it’s ridiculous but feels so good.

“We do make beautiful music together,” he says with a snicker.

“Oh God!” I roll my eyes and laugh, breaking the moment. “That was totally corny.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” He leans up and presses his lips to mine. When he lays his head back down, our eyes meet, and there’s something in them that makes my heart beat faster. “I have a bet for you.”

“I thought you swore off bets?”

“Yeah, but there’s no chance in hell I’m gonna lose this one.” He raises his eyebrows in challenge, mouth spread in an arrogant smirk.

“You’re so sure of yourself considering you lost the last one.” I trail my finger up and down his collarbone as if our bodies lying on top of each other weren’t enough of a connection.

“I may have lost in one sense, but I sure as hell won what matters.” And I know he’s just trying to butter me up for whatever bet he wants to make, but it doesn’t stop the ridiculous hitch in my breath from the sentiment.

“Lay it on me, rocker boy.”