Her small hand wrapped around his girth, her thumb rubbed over the leaking tip...and that’s when she heard a loud groan before she found herself on her back with Quinten looming over her.
She met his glittering, hunter green eyes seconds before he dropped his head and kissed her taut nipples, rousing a melting sweetness within her.
“I love these,” he whispered, cupping her breasts in his large hands before blowing warm air over them.
He smiled and slowly moved his hands downward, skimming either side of her body to her thighs. They trembled at his touch and she whimpered when he placed her legs over his shoulders and nibbled along her flesh until he arrived at her pelvis.
He nuzzled against her and she felt her face heat with embarrassment.
Quinten chuckled, and opened her up to his eyes. All it took was a teasing pressure against her clit with his tongue and she was ready for him.
“Inside me,” she begged.
He met her gaze, his face buried between her legs. “I love being down here.” He breathed against her.
“It’s morning,” she felt tears choke her. “I have to leave—” she didn’t finish her sentence.
Quinten quickly rose up, took hold of his hard flesh and slowly sank into her welcoming heat.
He gathered her against his warm, pulsing body. Her breasts tingled against his hair-roughened chest, as her hands caressed the planes of his back before her fingers dug into his buttocks.
“I love you, and I don’t want to leave you,” Saige confessed.
He kissed her, hard and long. “You’ll be back in my arms before you know it, Saige.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “I love you. Only you.”
Quinten slowly moved his hips...
Tears streamed down her face and Saige felt the wet pillow under her seconds before her eyes opened. She knew, without a doubt, that her dream had been a memory. The love she’d felt coming from Quinten had been tremendous, and to think that she’d thrown all that away because she hadn’t remembered. How had she not remembered being with him before now?
And the chair that she had in her apartment in Tampa—her favorite one that they would cuddle up on and talk. It had been their chair. Somehow she’d known that the chair had meaning to her, and now she knew what it was. Saige just wished that she had the rest of her memories. She was so desperate to remember. The fact that she couldn’t left a hard lump in the pit of her stomach. How did Quinten feel knowing that she couldn’t remember him or their time together? Saige knew, deep in her heart, that he hadn’t been the one to harm her.
Saige turned over in bed to lay on her side, using the quilt to wipe at her cheeks. Her heart hurt and she felt utter misery. Even only having that one vivid memory of Quinten made her crave to have him lying beside her with his arms holding her snuggled tightly against his strong chest.
* * *
11:20am
* * *
The chains grated on Quinten’s nerves as he entered a small room to visit with his brother. The visiting rooms in the building he’d been moved to were more private than what had been used when he’d been in a death row cell. And while he liked the new rooms, reason as to why he’d been moved caused his heart to beat recklessly in his chest.
As the guard indicated for him to sit, he wondered whether or not a stay would be given. Until he’d been convicted, he believed in the justice system, but not anymore.
Quinten knew that he was innocent—of the murders and hurting Saige. He only had himself to blame for screwing up the crime scene with his blood. His only concern at the time had been getting Saige and getting the hell out of the shack.
Eight years later, he still had trouble getting his head around the fact that he had been convicted while the real fucker was out there somewhere. That had been his fear at first—that the real bastard would go back and finish off Saige because she’d been the one to get away—to survive.
No one would listen except Detective Robinson. The detective hadn’t completely been on his side, but Robinson had been the only one to question the evidence at the scene. In the end it hadn’t mattered, he’d still been given the blue pants and orange shirt to wear for the remainder of his life.
When the door creaked open, he turned and watched Alex walk into the room. His brother looked the same as always in his jeans and heavy rock T-shirt. But he had cut his normally unruly hair.
Once a month, his brother would visit and Quinten knew that it always took a lot out of Alex. It took a lot out of him as well...except this time would be different.
Alex cleared his throat and finally met his gaze. “You okay?” Alex asked.
“I haven’t been okay in eight years.” Quinten sighed. “Sorry. It’s not your fault that I’m in here.”
“It is.” Alex’s eyes flickered to the side before he met Quinten’s again, “I should have done more.”