Through His Eyes Read online

  This doesn’t make any sense. “I texted you my number Saturday night when I was on my way to the club…and Sunday.” Grabbing my cell off the coffee table, I pull our message thread up and show him. “You never responded to my text Saturday night, and you made it clear on Sunday you didn’t want to talk.”

  “Quinn,” Lachlan says slowly, taking the phone from my hand. “I didn’t text you that. I never got a single message from you.” He clicks around on my phone, then I hear it ringing. A few seconds later, someone answers.

  “Hello.” We both look at each other, confused.

  “Who’s this?” Lachlan asks.

  The person on the other line giggles, clearly a child, and then there’s shuffling. “Hello?” an older voice comes on the line. “Who’s this?”

  “My name is Lachlan. Who answered your phone?”

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?” the woman asks.

  “No, I think I called the wrong number,” he says before he hangs up. I look over his shoulder as he pulls up his name on my contact list and curses under his breath. “I gave you the wrong number.” He backspaces the last digit which was a nine and inputs a six. He hits call, and less than a second later, his phone is ringing in his pocket.

  “I thought you changed your mind about us,” he says, handing me back my phone.

  “I thought the same thing,” I admit. “When you…well, the fake you…responded like that, I thought maybe you didn’t want me anymore. I thought about asking you why, but…” I take a deep breath, preparing myself to give him more truth. “I used to beg Rick to be with me. To stop putting me down and to love me.” Tears fill my eyes before I can stop them. “I thought maybe after everything…and with Shea being back…” I release a harsh sigh.

  “Fuck, Q.” Lachlan pulls me into his arms, and for the first time in a week, I finally relax. “I didn’t know.” Stepping back, he picks me up and carries me over to the couch, setting me down into his lap. “Shea is staying at a hotel. I haven’t spoken to, or seen, her since the club. What did I tell you Saturday night?”

  “I know what you said,” I say, willing the tears to stop, “but I figured maybe once you stepped back, you realized you didn’t want me after all. People can change their minds. I mean, she’s really freaking pretty and skinny and all girly, and I’m, well, I’m…” I wince as I say the words, not able to even finish my sentence. Even though I’ve been thinking them, saying them out loud makes me sound so ridiculously jealous and insecure.

  “Finish your sentence,” Lachlan demands.

  “You know what I’m saying.”

  “I want to hear the words,” he pushes. “Say them. Finish the damn sentence.”

  “Fine! I’m fat. Shea is skinny, and I’m fat! Why would you want me, when you could have her?”

  Lachlan takes a calming breath, and then says, while looking me in the eyes, “This has to stop. I hate what that fucker did to you, and I’m sure it was worse than what you’ve said. But I’m not him, and you aren’t overweight or ugly. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with an overweight woman, but you are so far from fat, it’s ridiculous.”

  He cups my cheeks with his hands. “You. Are. Gorgeous. No more comparing yourself to my ex. She doesn’t exist in what we have going on here. Got it?”

  Before I can verbally answer him, Lachlan presses his lips to mine, and I sigh into his mouth, completely content at being in his arms and kissing him.

  When the kiss ends, Lachlan glances over at the laptop and leans over to grab it. “Did you take these pictures?” On the screen are photos of a newlywed couple standing in the garden where they were married. She’s dressed in an elegant, white gown, and he’s in a tux. The image is of them laughing together.

  “I took it without them realizing,” I tell him. “She had just tripped in the grass over her high heel and he caught her.”

  “It’s a really good picture,” Lachlan says, clicking from image to image. “It’s like you can feel every emotion through their expressions.” He stops at one where the husband is looking at his wife, but she’s looking down at her dress, fixing it.

  “It’s easy when two people are in love.”

  “Still, it takes someone who knows what they’re doing to capture it.”

  “It’s like you and tattoos,” I point out. “You take an idea, sometimes a crappy drawing, and turn it into a masterpiece.”

  Lachlan grins. “You know…” He sets the laptop back down and twists me around so I’m straddling his lap. “Your daughter trusted me enough to tattoo her.” He waggles his eyebrows.

  “One, she’s five, so she trusts easier. She hasn’t experienced real life yet. And two, I haven’t gotten a tattoo done since…” My throat clogs with emotion when I think of the last tattoo I got. When I came home and he saw it and lost it on me. I don’t even realize I’ve turned my face away from Lachlan in shame until his cool fingers are gently touching my chin, and he’s bringing my face back up to look at him.

  “Since you were with him.” Lachlan finishes my sentence for me. “Fuck him, Quinn.” He brushes his thumb down my cheek and then across my bottom lip. “Fuck. Him. You’re a beautiful woman who should be covered in art if that’s what you want. And one day, you’re going to trust me enough to let me ink my art on your body.”

  Lachlan reaches around behind my head, grips my hair, and covers my mouth with his. My body melts into his touch, and if I were listening to my hormones, I would not only let him ink me, but let him do whatever the hell he wants to do to me. But I’ve learned the hard way I need to be smarter than that. I need to listen to my heart, but also my head. My body might trust Lachlan, but my head and heart aren’t completely there yet.

  The kiss is slow and gentle. His strong calloused hands cup my jaw, and his tongue massages mine. I lift his shirt, sliding my palms over the ridges of his abs. His skin is hot, and I crave his warmth. When I let out a soft moan, it seems to spur him on. His hands leave my face, and we break our kiss just long enough to pull each other’s shirts over our heads.

  His lips find my neck at the same time my fingers thread through his hair. He trails soft, open-mouthed kisses down my neck and chest. Then he pulls the cups of my bra down, one and then the other, exposing my erect, pink nipples. Wrapping his beautiful lips around one, he sucks it into his mouth, and the sensation zaps straight to the apex between my legs. My thighs clench, and my butt grinds down, revealing the large bulge in his pants.

  Lachlan’s lips move to my other breast, sucking and licking my nipple. I haven’t the slightest clue how it is that he’s sucking on my breast yet it feels like my pussy is on fire. When I grind down again, needing relief, he bites down on my nipple and I yelp, which reminds me we’re sitting in my living room, where my brother and Willow can walk in at any time, or my daughter can come out of her room and find us.

  “Lach,” I try to say through a moan. When he bites down on my other nipple, sending waves of pleasure straight to my core, I grab his face and push him back. “We can’t do this out here.”

  He looks around as if just now realizing where we are. Picking me up, he takes me upstairs to my room, closing the door behind us. Laying me on the center of the bed, he tugs my pants and underwear down my thighs, and then gripping my ankles, pulls me to the edge of the bed, so my legs are dangling down.

  My brain goes mushy, my only thought being how much I want and need this man.

  Bending over me, Lachlan’s lips softly caress mine before he travels south, placing kisses along the center of my chest, one to each breast, my belly, and finally the hood of my pussy. He leans in and inhales deeply. My breathing becomes embarrassingly labored, my chest rising and falling quickly. I’m in shock that he just smelled me…there! Who does that?

  Spreading me wide, Lachlan stares at my pussy for a long minute. “Fuck, Q, you smell so good, and you’re so damn wet.” He swipes his finger down my center and brings it to his lips, wrapping his mouth around the glistening wet digit, and licking it
clean. And I about come on the spot. Who is this man?

  A whimper escapes my lips, and Lachlan grins, staring back down at me. “You taste delicious.” He swipes his finger back down and licks it again. “So perfect,” he murmurs.

  “Lachlan,” I groan, unsure what I’m even wanting to say.

  “What’s wrong?” His brows furrow. “Do you want to know what you taste like?” When I gasp in shock, his mouth tips into a half-smile that has my insides heating up. How can one look, a simple touch, affect me in such a big way? He runs his middle finger down my center once again, this time slowly, then brings it to my mouth. “Open,” he commands, and I do. My lips wrap around his long digit, and I suck on my own arousal. My eyes stay glued to his, and his are glued to my mouth. When I pull back, he licks his lips. “Perfect, right?” It’s a tad tangy and not all that sweet—not really a taste I would personally find delicious—but if he thinks it tastes good, more power to him.

  He backs up slightly without waiting for a response, places my legs on top of his shoulders, and then his hot mouth begins to lick me so skillfully, with so much precision, I’m squirming in pleasure, silently begging for my release within seconds. His fingers push inside me, massaging my insides intimately, and then I’m coming. Bright lights behind my lids burst through the dark as my body comes completely undone.

  When I open my eyes, Lachlan is wiping his mouth and beard with the back of his hand, a satisfied grin splayed upon his lips like he’s the one who was just pleasured. And then it hits me he’s now made me come three times without even asking or suggesting to be pleasured back. And that thought has me wanting to satisfy him the same way he’s satisfied me.

  Sitting up, I turn my body around so I’m on my stomach and my head is in the direct line of his crotch. Lachlan, the intelligent guy he is, catches on quickly, and his eyes go wide. “Quinn,” he whispers as I pull him closer to me.

  “My turn,” I murmur, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

  “Okay, but there’s something you need to know.”

  “Not now,” I say, on a mission to please him. Pushing his jeans and boxers down, his dick, hard as a steel pole, springs free and hits his stomach. It’s thick and smooth, neatly trimmed, with only a single vein running along the underside. I’ve only been with a few guys, so I don’t have a lot to compare it to, but it’s perfect. And then a small sliver of metal catches my eye, and I gasp.

  “You’re…you’re…”

  “Pierced.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathe, entranced by what I’m seeing. “Can I touch it?”

  Fifteen

  Lachlan

  “Can I touch it?” she whispers, and I have to will myself not to come from her words alone. This woman, she has no idea how fucking beautiful and sexy and goddamn motherfucking perfect she is. The way she tastes and smells. The sound she makes when she comes all over my fingers and tongue. I can’t get enough of her. Sure, I’m a guy who’s attracted to a woman, so of course I want nothing more than to sink into her hot, tight cunt. But at the same time, I’m completely content to just make her come. Every time I give her attention, she soaks it up like she’s dying of thirst. She eats up every compliment like she’s starved. And all I want to do is nourish the fuck out of her by bringing her pleasure and giving her the happiness she deserves.

  “Yeah, you can touch it,” I tell her, taking a small step forward. She’s lying on her belly, her elbows holding her up with her plump ass and smooth back on display. Her bra is still on, but her tits are spilling out of it, exposing her pink nipples. Her legs are cross-legged, dangling in the air. If I wouldn’t look like such a perv, I would pull my phone out and snap a picture of her so I never forget how she looks right now. So goddamn beautiful, and all. Fucking. Woman. How she can even begin to compare herself to Shea is fucking stupid. Yeah, Shea is skinny and blond, and she’s definitely easy on the eyes, but she isn’t even in the same league as Quinn.

  Tightening her fingers around my shaft, Quinn runs her sexy mouth across my Prince Albert piercing. A smidge of precum drips out and lightly coats her lips. I watch as her curious tongue darts out to taste it just before she parts her lips and gives the head of my dick a soft kiss. I groan, and she smiles a shy smile. Gently closing her mouth around my piercing, she tugs on it playfully, glancing up at me from under her thick lashes. Her tongue darts out and licks my slit, and I nearly come on the spot. Watching her explore my body is a fucking turn on. Not just because she’s touching me, but because I can see it in her eyes as she becomes more comfortable with herself, with me.

  “I want to suck you,” she says, “but…” She sighs softly, and her eyes fill with liquid. What the hell just happened?

  “Hey.” I pull her up so she’s kneeling on the bed. “What’s going on?” My eyes dart back and forth between hers.

  “I don’t want to bring him up…” Her gaze drops down, and she doesn’t even have to finish for me to know this is about that piece-of-shit.

  “Tell me,” I insist. “We can’t get past it if I don’t know.”

  “He said I wasn’t good at it. I think…” She inhales then exhales. “I think maybe he cheated on me because I wasn’t good at satisfying him.” She bites down on her bottom lip, and it takes everything in me not to punch the drywall in. What man makes a woman feel like she isn’t perfect? Makes her feel as though she can’t do anything right? Single-handedly takes her confidence and self-esteem and destroys it? A piece-of-shit asshole who needs to bring his woman down, in order to make himself feel better, that’s who.

  “Quinn,” I start, but she cuts me off.

  “Could you just maybe…if I do something you don’t like…can you tell me, please?” she pleads. And I can hear the words she doesn’t speak. So you don’t resort to cheating on me.

  “Look at me,” I implore, needing her to understand how serious I am. “I will never cheat on you. Ever.”

  “You can’t possibly…”

  “No!” I boom, and regret it when she winces. “I’m sorry,” I say softer, gliding my hands down the smooth flesh of her hips and pulling her into me until she’s so close, my dick is nestled between her legs. “There is not a single, tiny, minute possibility of me ever cheating on you. You are mine, and I am yours. And as long as you keep letting me come around, you are it for me. I don’t care what you say or do. I don’t give a shit how badly you piss me off, or if you push me away a million times. I will never touch or look at another woman besides you. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she says with a nod.

  “Now, listen carefully,” I say, grabbing two fistfuls of her ass and rocking my hips against her heat. “You simply choosing to wrap your perfect lips around my dick makes me the luckiest fucking bastard in the world. Everything you do once you’re down there is merely a bonus.” I shoot her a playful wink and her cheeks tinge that beautiful shade of pink I love.

  “Okay.” She concedes with another nod. “Sorry…” She winces. “I just totally killed the mood, didn’t I?”

  “You didn’t kill anything, baby.” I have Quinn kneeling on her bed, with her heavy tits hanging out of her bra, and her entire lower half bare and rubbing against my hard dick. “Feel this.” I grind my dick against her. “It’s hard as granite. That’s what you do to me.” I press my lips to hers briefly, then tell her to lie down. “I want to make you come again.”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “You already did it three times. It’s my turn.”

  “This isn’t a game, Quinn. We’re not keeping score.”

  “I know, but I want to.”

  “Keep score?” I tease.

  “No.” She giggles. “Make you come.” She pushes me back slightly, then climbs off the bed, dropping to her knees. And without any warning, she damn near takes my entire dick down her throat. She gags softly, and the sound almost has me shooting my load straight down her throat. She pulls up briefly then sucks me back down. And with renewed confidence, my girl sucks my dick like she’s out to win a fucking
award for Best Head Ever Given.

  When my balls begin to tighten, and my dick starts to swell, I know I’m close. Not wanting to come down her throat—for her sake, not mine—I entangle her hair in my fingers and pull her mouth off my dick. Her lips come off with a pop, and a bit of saliva drips down her chin. The sight has me losing my mind, and before I can stop myself or warn her, my cum is shooting out and covering her luscious tits.

  She watches with fascination, and once I’m done, she leans forward and licks the head clean. “You taste better than I do,” she says with a wink, and I know without a shadow of a fucking doubt, I’m keeping this woman for eternity.

  Once we’re both cleaned up, we go back downstairs to watch TV. Quinn is snuggled into my side with her head on my chest when the front door opens and in walks Jax and Willow. Willow smiles, and Jax grimaces. I laugh at how cranky he is over me dating his sister. I know he supports us being together, but he refuses to show it. When Quinn doesn’t acknowledge them, I glance down and see her eyes are closed and she’s sleeping.

  “Night,” Willow whispers.

  “Keep it down,” Jax adds.

  I finish the episode we’re watching of Gilmore Girls—yeah, yeah, I know…not very manly, but in my defense, I needed to know if Rory and Dean end up hooking up even though he’s married. Spoiler alert: they do—and I’m about to carry Quinn up to bed, when I hear a child cry out. Remembering Kinsley is here, I wake Quinn up.

  “Kinsley’s crying,” I tell her, already standing to go to her. She quickly shakes off her sleep and flies up the stairs behind me. When we get to her room, I let Quinn go in first.

  “Oh, Kins!” Quinn rushes to her side.

  “I threw up everywhere,” Kinsley cries.

  “Shh…it’s okay,” Quinn tells her. She places her hand on her forehead, then turns to me. “Can you grab me the thermometer? It’s in the top drawer.”