And Then You (Until Book 2)

“Quinn,” he says, that rasp in his voice that makes me so fucking glad I have a bed where he can lie and say my name just like this.

I unwrap myself from around him and take his hand. Now that I know how it feels in mine, I find it hard to let it go even for a second.

And we talk.
About pointless things that become important when the person you’re talking to is important.