Love in Slow Motion

27. Quinn

27 QUINN

“Are you even looking at these dresses?”

I blink, snapping out of my hazy daydream. Is it a daydream if you’re dreaming of something that really happened? All I can think about is Reed and how hard he made me come last night. Which, of course, is a terrible thing to be thinking about while you’re out shopping with your sister-in-law, who thinks you spent the night with her other brother.

“Yeah, I’m looking,” I lie, examining the skirt of the dress she picked out for me. It’s a long, pleated silk skirt that would probably make her look like a fashion icon, but I would just look like an old lady in a night gown. “I don’t think so.”

Sabrina makes a sad face and puts the dress back. When I told everyone I was going to go shopping for a 4th of July dress on my own, Sabrina protested, saying there was no way I could shop by myself without someone around to tell me what looked good and what didn’t, and she’s not wrong. She has a much better eye for these things than I do.

“What kind of dress do you think you want?” she asks, eyes scanning over the racks around us of colorful cocktail dresses.

What I want to say is a cheap one , but as far as Sabrina is concerned, I’m still married to a man that makes six figures and would have no reason to be concerned about the price tag of a dress. “Something blue.”

Sabrina levels me with an unkind look. “I guess that’s a start, but you have to give me a little more than that.”

A dress that Reed could get me out of easily when the party is over.

I immediately brush the thought away. What happened last night with Reed is definitely not happening again. It’s bad enough that it happened once. What the hell would we even do if his family found out? It would destroy everything. I could never do that to them. It was just a little fun.

“How about something tea length?” I ask. “I’ve always loved that Old Hollywood look.”

Sabrina snaps. “Yes. Absolutely. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Like a heat-seeking missile, she immediately locates a navy-blue dress with sequins sewn into the bodice. “What about this one?”

It takes me half an hour to find a dress, and then Sabrina and I are walking through the shopping center on the lake when she comes to a stop outside a lingerie store.

“Oh, let’s poke in here,” she says, holding the door open for me without giving me a chance to protest. I don’t guess I really would have. Sabrina is hard to say no to, and I don’t have a legitimate reason for avoiding a lingerie boutique. She doesn’t know that the sight of very lacy things reminds me of Reed and the way he ran his fingers down the curve of my breast last night.

I follow her into the little shop, my eyes scanning the collection of underwear. Body suits and garter belts and push- up bras. When I stumble onto a display in the very back of crotchless panties, I turn away quickly, my pulse speeding up. I immediately picture the dress I bought, wearing a pair of those underneath and letting Reed slip his fingers right into my?—

“See anything good?” Sabrina steps up beside me. Her eyes go to the crotchless underwear, and instead of making a disgusted face like I sort of thought she would because I’m her sister-in-law and would therefore be wearing these things for her brother, she says, “Ooooh. Those are cute.” She walks straight to the display and picks up a pair of violet panties. “Crotchless can sometimes be a little strange, but these are pretty cute.” She shuffles through a few of them, and I decide to leave her to it. I can only imagine the sex life she has back in New York. Someone who looks like Sabrina would have her pick of the eligible bachelors.

I wonder, suddenly, if it’s hard for her, being in the city and being the daughter of Madison Lynch. Everyone knows she’s rich and powerful, and I can only imagine that means being pursued by people who want to use your name. I pretend to be looking at some see-through bras and glance back at Sabrina. Even though I’ve known her for five years and think she’s amazing, we haven’t spent a ton of time getting to know each other on a personal level.

I know that Sabrina is one of those people who has made her money doing a little bit of everything. She was modeling when we met, when she was still in high school, and not long after that, she was the face of Dior. Now, she’s mostly famous for a TikTok series she did where she would travel the world and only stay in small family-owned bed-and-breakfasts instead of five-star hotels. Everyone knew she had money so people thought she would find something wrong with the little B&Bs. But she ended up boosting dozens of small businesses and helping a lot of failing Mom-and-Pops.

I remember reading the comments on those videos and being so surprised that people were upset that she was so nice. After a while, people assumed her kindness was fake and the videos ended. I’m not entirely sure what she’s doing these days, other than living with Madison.

She turns and catches my eye, smiling big. She seems a lot better today, her mother’s potential diagnosis no longer on her mind. “Need my help picking something?” She already has an armful of things. She steps over to me and holds up a bodysuit. It’s black, a lacy, half-cup bra and thong, connected by parallel silk ribbons that would stripe down the wearer’s body. A silk belt around the middle holds it all together, giving it shape. It’s sexy and elegant and not like something I’ve ever worn in my life.

Something starts to simmer under my skin. When Chase and I first started dating, I wanted to have sex with him so bad. I’d been holding onto my virginity for a long time, wanting to save it for the perfect person, and when I met Chase, I knew he was the right one. I knew he would be gentle with me and caring.

And he was.

And then the gentle and caring went on and on. Long past our second time or fifth time or hundredth time, and I kept wondering when there would be more . I had spent a year rooming with Brooke, and I knew that she was into guys who were a little more demanding in bed. She would talk about a guy who wanted to spank her or wrap his hand around her throat or go at her so hard that she would be sore the next day. And she loved it. She would tell me about these encounters with a dreamy look in her eye.

I would think about it when Chase pushed inside me, wondering what would happen if I flipped us over and rode him the way I imagined sometimes. Or if I bit him or asked him to fuck me hard, so hard it would hurt to sit down for a few days.

Then one day, when I could tell he was close but I was barely creeping toward the finish line, I whispered in his ear that I wanted him to be rough with me. It was a simple request. One that, in hindsight, doesn’t seem all that scandalous. But that wasn’t what we did. That wasn’t the people we were, picture perfect Chase and Quinn.

He didn’t say anything. His hips paused, barely a stutter, and then he continued on as if I had said nothing at all, bucking away until he spilled inside me.

“Could I ask you an honest question?”

Sabrina lets the lingerie she was still holding up for my inspection fall to her side. Her head tilts a little, and there’s something behind her dark eyes—eyes that, I realize now, are the same color as Reed’s—that I can’t quite place, but I think it’s trepidation. “Of course.”

“Would you say you’re sexually adventurous?”

She looks like she’s really considering my question. She finally leans one hip against a display. “I think it depends on your perspective. I think some people would think I’m sexually adventurous, but I think some people might say I’m boring. Why? Are you and Chase having problems?”

My stomach lurches. This feels so deceptive, like I’m outright lying. And I don’t want to lie to Sabrina. I want to tell her everything that’s going on between Reed and me in that basement. But I can’t.

“I wouldn’t say problems . I just…think maybe we don’t want the same things.”

“You mean anal?”

A nervous giggle pops out of me. “No, nothing like that.” My eyes meet her sincere ones. “Not that I have a problem with it. I’ve just never…done that.” I couldn’t even get Chase to fuck me on the kitchen table—which I hesitantly suggested once and then laughed off as a joke when he started to lecture me about how gross it was to have sex at a table that other people sat at occasionally—much less get him to have anal sex with me, which I’m not positive I’m even into.

“Do you want to tell me what it is?”

No. I don’t. I’ve just had these…thoughts for a long time, things I’ve heard of other women doing that I sometimes thought might be hot, but I know that I could never outright tell Sabrina—or anyone else—about them. The only reason I’m bringing it up is because she brought me into this shop.

“Not really. I guess I’m just curious about, I don’t know, where to start when you want to try something different.”

Sabrina’s mouth spreads into a smile and she holds up the piece of lingerie again. “This is a good place to start. Walk in wearing this, and he won’t know what hit him.”

I try to imagine what Reed would say if I showed up in the basement bedroom in that stringy, lacy bit of fabric. But all I can imagine is Chase, looking at me like I’ve done something wrong and then leaving me standing there, mostly naked, without another word.

What if Reed is just like Chase? Yes, the sex we had last night was good. It was intense and felt incredible, and Reed made sure I came. But it was good without being all that different from what Chase and I used to do together. What if I ask for more, and Reed is disgusted with me for even suggesting it?

But what if Reed is into it? What if…?

I reach out and take the lingerie from Sabrina. “But how do I get him to try something we’ve never done before?” I have to stare down at the fabric in my hands. I can’t meet her eye, even though I know she’s not judging me right now. I never had the guts to ask Brooke if there was something wrong with me, if I was the problem in my sex life with Chase, but the stakes feel so much smaller with Sabrina.

“You ask.”

The laugh that sneaks out of me then is bitter. “You make it sound so easy.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, and when I look up, she’s giving me this face like I’ve asked her a particularly difficult math question. Finally, she says, “He’s your husband. You should feel comfortable asking for what you want.”

She’s right. I should have felt comfortable asking Chase for what I wanted.

But I never did.

And now, what if I ask Reed for what I want and I scare him away? Maybe it doesn’t really matter in the end if I scare him away or not. This whole arrangement—this thing that we’re doing that we haven’t fully discussed—is temporary. He’s going to walk away from it in a few days anyway.

And maybe the risk is worth it if I get something I really need.