Free Quinn I (Undaunted Men #1) by J.C. Cliff Page B

orders me not to escape his warmth quite yet. I’m warm and cozy wrapped up in his cocoon. Quinn's heavy, muscled arm squeezes me, pulling me tighter against his chiseled chest, preventing me from getting away. I’m smothered, but in a good way. Is it wrong of me to say he feels perfect pressed against me like this?  
    He pulls me from my musings, his nose nuzzling into the side of my neck, and then he softly exhales a warm breath that cascades over my exposed skin. Goose bumps erupt, and I shiver in response. The man is simply sinful. I want this feeling to last for as long as possible so I decide to revel in his sweet caresses. With everything I’ve been through, his touch is a calming balm, making for a welcome reprieve.
    Quinn is still asleep; I can tell by his light, even breathing, but his hands have a mind of their own. His fingers slowly skirt underneath my t-shirt, splaying his heated hand on my stomach. His thumb begins drawing small, lazy circles along my abdomen. God help me, I’m suddenly on fire, and I ache for more.  
    His soft lips press against my neck, and I stifle a moan. What the hell is he doing? The span of his hand almost covers my entire stomach, resting low on my belly, causing flutters of arousal to stir within. I swallow hard against the lustful sensations he’s creating in me. I'm growing wet, and all he’s done is touch my stomach. How in the hell is he doing this in his sleep?  
    He slides his hand along the waistband of my sweatpants with intent, and what he does next makes me lose my breath. His fingers easily slip underneath the elastic, and butterflies take flight. I don’t stop him; I can't. I'm frozen with both shock and desire. I’m soaking wet by the time his fingers trail down to my sex. He lazily roams past my clit and then slides his fingers between my wet folds. I should stop him, and tell my body a resounding no, but I do no such thing.  
    I’ve been starved for a real man’s touch for months on end. The last relationship I was in crushed me, and I had sworn off all men. I realize now I probably shouldn’t have sworn off sex, because…Oh hell, the thought goes out the window the second he slips his finger past my opening, penetrating me fully. He's stirring a strong hunger inside me, either one I've never felt before, or I had simply forgotten what this felt like.  
    There is no mistaking his stiff erection pressing against the curve of my ass. I think I’m going to combust when he sleepily thrusts his hips into me while he adds a second finger, pumping them into me. Oh sweet, baby Jesus.
    My core responds on its own by squeezing around his fingers, willing them to stay deep inside me. This is so wrong, so very inappropriate, and so out of character for me. I’m not an easy mark. In fact, I’ve never allowed myself to get intimate with a man I’ve just met. So why is it that I’m throwing all caution to the wind now? Oh yeah—because he’s a walking sex god.    
    He thrusts his hips into my backside again while his fingers work a perfect rhythm. He mumbles something incoherent before the warmth of his mouth presses sensual kisses along the length of my neck. A massive tremor rolls through my entire body in response.            
    “You cold, sweetheart?” he huskily breathes over my skin. No, just shivering in a lusty haze, but I can't answer; my breath is caught in my throat. “Don’t worry; I’m about to set you on fire,” he hums with his lips pressed to the sensitive spot right below my ear.  
    In a split second, I find myself on my back, and his fingers, never missing a beat, thrust themselves deeper inside me. I gasp for air. The lustful sensations coursing through my body have me spinning out of control. My chest rises and falls in rapid succession as I’m being bombarded with dirty, passionate nips and kisses along the length of my neck. These feelings of affection and ardor are definitely different, I’d remember a man making me feel