“Quentin is the handsomest and smartest of all of us,” Jordan said.
“Okay, except for that,” Quentin said. “Take that as the gospel truth.”
Lydia couldn’t help but smile, despite the reason they were all there. She loved watching them banter back and forth, which they managed to do effortlessly while getting everything sorted for the search. Hannah, in particular, was fun to watch, because she was obsessed with the two dogs who, despite their professional training, were all over Hannah, licking her face and jumping up on her as she talked to them.
Before long, though, everyone was ready to go, and the mood became more serious. The dogs had been given Jack’s scent, and everyone had their instructions for what part of the city they were searching. Everyone had a picture of Jack and a picture of Whitney on their phones, the first to identify Jack and the second to hopefully offer him some reassurance if and when they found him. Whether the marriage was as idyllic as Lydia had always thought or not, she couldn’t envision any world, divided or not, where Jack and Whitney weren’t together. So, she hoped that he would recognize his wife’s face and know that he could safely go with the person who found him.
Lydia was searching with Jack, and they didn’t take one of the dogs with them. Hannah and Ryan took one dog, and Barrett and Jordan took the other. Quentin and Lydia were just relying on Lydia’s instincts about what Jack would or would not do.
They walked the streets together. It was now early afternoon, and Jack had been missing for twenty hours, aside from the brief glimpse that Lydia had gotten of him earlier that day before chasing him down and almost being hit by a truck in the process. Lydia kept her eyes peeled for Jack’s familiar face as they walked the grid-like city layout systematically, but she got no glimpse of any familiar face, and she didn’t actually expect to. She knew that they had to go through this process, and she was hoping beyond hope that she was wrong about their chances, but it seemed like an impossible task to locate Jack in a city of so many people.
Although she hadn’t talked to Quentin about this, she wondered if Jack had even stayed in the city. Wouldn’t he be inclined to find somewhere more familiar to him, if he could?
“What if we don’t find him?” Lydia asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between her and Quentin as they walked. “I feel like we’re looking for a needle in a haystack. And if we don’t find him, then we can’t do anything, can we?”
Quentin slipped his hand into hers, breaking their rules about keeping things professional between them while they were working to save Jack’s life. Lydia was glad he had broken the rules though. His hand was warm and strong around hers, and he thought it changed nothing. It simply offered her comfort. She pressed his fingers, and he pressed back.
“I won’t sugarcoat it for you,” Quentin said. “Finding Jack is going to be hard if he doesn’t want to be found, and with the time limit that we have, it’ll definitely be a high-stakes, high-pressure situation. If you want to, I can get the police involved at the forty-eight-hour mark. They won’t consider him missing before then because he’s an adult who could easily make the choice to come and go without explanation to anyone. But if we do get the police involved once he’s been missing for forty-eight hours, then that may lead to some strange questions and some explanations that we don’t want to give. But it might be worth the risk to get the manpower to find him.”
Lydia nodded. “I think …if we get to forty-eight hours …I think we should do that. Although, I’ve read enough to know that they won’t take it that seriously even then without some evidence of foul play. Right? I mean, if I just say he walked out of the apartment and hasn’t come back or gotten in touch …they’re going to assume that Jack, a grown man, probably just doesn’t want to talk to me.”
Quentin pressed her hand again. “You’re not wrong. But the Rockwell Agency has some pull with the police department, although some people over there really, really don’t like us. They say we’re interfering and undermining. But we do have some contacts there, and I’ll be sure that we use them in order to ensure that they take Jack’s disappearance seriously. It’s possible that they might even start looking a little early for us. If you want, I’ll have Barrett start to lay the groundwork so that we can get it mobilized as soon as possible.”
“Thank you,” Lydia said, pulling her gaze from people’s faces on the street and looking up at Quentin. He looked back down at her, and she knew that things had changed between them. It had happened fast, but it seemed so natural. When he looked at her, he was really looking at her, and with their hands joined, their fingers interlaced now, it felt intimate, even though they were walking down a busy street.
She wanted to be around him, and it no longer had anything to do with the fact that he was a dragon shifter, although she loved that he was. She just wanted to be with him for who he was, too, and how he made her feel.
Lydia didn’t know what to do with that feeling, but she didn’t think it was going away anytime soon, either.
“I guess Whitney will be around to make that decision,” Lydia said, trying to direct her thoughts away from how she was beginning to feel about Quentin. “She’ll be here in the morning. I wish it was sooner, but there were no flights she could get on today, so she’s taking the first one tomorrow. It’ll be good to have her around to help make these kinds of decisions. I just don’t look forward to trying to explain all of this to her.”
Quentin squeezed her hand again. “I can help with that.”
Chapter 23
Quentin
They walked around their designated portion of the city for hours, searching for Jack. But Quentin was not surprised when they circled back to their starting place, near the café where they had seen him that morning, without having found him. Nobody else reported that they had found him either, although Hannah and Ryan’s dog seemed to follow a trail for a long time but lost the scent at a bus stop.
If Jack had gotten on the bus, there was no telling how far away he was by this point. The buses went to the train station and the airport. They also went out of town. Jack might have put many miles between himself and the café he had been outside of this morning.
But they couldn’t just keep wandering around, looking for him. The other groups were going to stay out for a while and see if either of the dogs could pick up the scent again, but Quentin could tell that Lydia was starting to get too tired. She had been up all night, and the stress of the situation was so much worse for her than for the others. Quentin convinced her to go back to the apartment with him and get some rest, pointing out that if Jack did decide to go back to the apartment, someone would be there.
They made their way back to the apartment building, rode the elevator up together, and walked along the hall in mutual, tired, worried silence. As Lydia started to unlock the apartment door, the neighbor from down the hallway opened her door and poked her head out.
Quentin looked at her with surprise, glancing at Lydia. “Hi there,” Quentin said to the woman, who was staring at them.
“Any word?” the woman asked. “Did you find the man you were looking for?”
Lydia went into the apartment, feeling too defeated to talk to a stranger about the fact that Jack was still missing. Quentin politely shook his head, because, after all, the woman had tried to help them a few times.
“Nothing yet,” Quentin said.
“I’ll keep my eyes and ears on things,” she said, shutting the door again.
Quentin supposed that he should be grateful to her, but he also vaguely wondered what she did with her days. Did she just sit near her apartment door, listening for the ding of the elevator or the rush of feet in the hall?
He followed Lydia into the apartment and shut the door behind him. Lydia was sprawled on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, and he walked over to her, slipping her shoes off and perching on the arm of the couch, her feet in his lap. He rubbed the soles of her feet gently, watching her face. There was so little that he could say to c
omfort her, and he didn’t want to offer useless, stereotypical phrases. He was going to do everything that he could to make sure that she got the result she wanted—that Jack got back safely, and that his life, going forward, was safe, and long, and normal. But he couldn’t make her any promises, and if he did try to, she would see through him anyway.
They were in a tough spot because every hour counted, yet finding Jack was like finding a needle in a haystack, and even if they did find him, creating the portal again …well, that was easier said than done.
“That’s nice,” Lydia said, mustering a small smile for him as he stroked his thumb against the arch of her foot. “Is this in your job description?”
Quentin smiled. “This isn’t a job anymore.”
“It isn’t?”
He shook his head. “No. Not after today. Not after sharing with you what and who I am. Only my closest friends know that part of my life. I would only share it with someone that was close to me. Just because I haven’t known you that long doesn’t mean that you’re not my close friend.”
Lydia slid her feet from his hands and his lap, sitting up. She looked up at him for a long moment, and he kept his eyes on hers, not looking away. There was something about her that had drawn him to her from the moment they’d met, and now that there were no secrets or barriers between them, the pull was stronger than ever. He’d found himself thinking about kissing her earlier, and he suspected, from the look in her eyes, that her mind was wandering to the same exact memory.
She stood up slowly, standing in front of him as he sat on the arm of the couch. He parted his legs slightly, and she stepped between them. His hands moved to rest on her waist, and one of her hands lifted to his cheek. Her thumb stroked along his jaw, which was roughened by a day’s worth of beard growth.
Quentin wanted to pull her to him and kiss her fiercely again, but he knew that she was vulnerable and emotional and he didn’t want to push her into anything that she wasn’t sure if she wanted. They had decided to keep things professional between them. They’d committed to that, together, both of them believing that it was for the best.
But, God, he wanted to kiss her.
She lowered her head, and for a moment, he thought that their lips would meet. But then she skimmed her lips along his cheek instead, leaning into him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him, as she tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder.
His hands stroked up and down her back, and Lydia slowly relaxed into him. When she pressed her lips softly to his neck, his pulse jumped, but he didn’t grab her up the way he wanted to. He kept his hands gentle on her, his lips pressing on her shoulder, and his hand sliding into her hair to stroke through the long, thick strands.
After a few minutes of indulgence, Lydia eased backward. She lingered for a moment, with her face close to his, but then stepped all the way back. “I’ll put on something to eat,” she said, clearing her throat and turning away from him, as though struggling to maintain her own composure. If she was feeling anything like he was, he didn’t blame her for needing a moment of distance. If she had kept touching him and nuzzling against him that way, he would have been hard-pressed not to sweep her up and lay her down on the couch to make sure that she forgot all of her troubles, at least for an hour or two.
“No,” Quentin said, standing up as well, and trying not to let his eyes linger as they moved down her body, lingering on the long slope of her back and the curve of her hip. “I’ll make something. I’m not a half-bad cook. You go rest or shower, or do whatever you want to do.”
Lydia turned back towards him, sweeping her hair out of her face. She looked vulnerable and sad. “The last time someone offered to make me dinner while I showered, he disappeared.”
Quentin walked over to her, tipping her chin up with one finger. “I’m not going to disappear, Lydia.”
“I know,” she said, “but maybe I wish you would.”
Confused, Quentin stared down at her, his brow furrowing. “Do you?”
“No.”
“What is it that you want, then?” Quentin asked, searching her face for answers. She seemed so conflicted, so troubled.
With a groan, Lydia lifted herself onto his toes, gripped Quentin’s shirt, and pulled him into her. Before he could react, her mouth was on his, and her arms were wrapped around his neck. He hadn’t had time to pull away, but he wouldn’t have wanted to. All of his self-control fled, replaced by a desire so strong that it shut out everything else.
Quentin picked Lydia up, settling her legs around his waist, as he kissed her fiercely. There was no doubt in either of their minds that they weren’t stopping this time. There would be no more debate or reasoning about whether or not it was a good idea to act on the desire that they both felt. There would be no more struggle to maintain a professional, aloof façade when they both only wanted to consume each other.
He carried her to the bedroom, feeling his way there without breaking the heated kiss that was spinning out between them. Lydia did her part, winding herself so tightly around him that navigating them both was hardly more difficult than navigating himself. Quentin pushed the bedroom door open, and he tumbled her down onto the bed, covering his body with hers as she clung to him.
His hands landed on her hips, his fingers digging into the soft curve of her ass, as he gripped her desperately. Lydia arched into him, and Quentin made a sound that was half groan and half growl, as he felt her center press against his hard length. Sliding his hand upward, he cupped her through her shirt, massaging her breast in his hand. She was small-chested, but she felt firm and sweet in his hand, filling his palm perfectly. His thumb brushed over her nipple, and he realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath her sweater. The realization made him even harder and more desperate for her, and he couldn’t help but slide his hand beneath her sweater to brush his fingertips along the gentle curve of her breast.
Lydia shuddered beneath him, and he repeated the caress, driving her wild, as he stroked and teased her, his lips trailing up and down her slender, sloping neck. In no time at all, Lydia was writhing beneath him, her own hands pulling at his clothes. She tugged at his shirt, and he couldn’t manage to get it off without having to break away from her, so he took his free hand, and gripped the neck of his shirt, ripping through it.
“Tear the rest of it away,” Quentin said, his voice husky with desire, as he kissed his way over her shoulders, pushing her shirt to the side, so he could see more of her skin.
Lydia sucked in a breath at his suggestion, but then grabbed the torn fabric of his shirt and yanked it open, the fabric shredding into two pieces, leaving his chest bare. She pushed against him with her hands, and he rolled over for her, letting her get on top of him, straddling his hips with her slim legs.
He stroked his hands up and down her thighs, as she bent low and began to kiss her way down his chest, her hands sliding over his sides and stroking along the ridges of his ripped abdomen. Groaning, Quentin gripped her hips, grinding her against him, as she drove him wild with her kisses and the bite of her nails against his skin.
When she reached her hand down between his legs and cupped him through his jeans, teasing him, his eyes flew open, and his body went rigid with need. “Fuck, Lydia …” He lifted his hips up to press against her hand. “Don’t stop.”
Chapter 24
Lydia
She wasn’t thinking straight.
Rather, she wasn’t thinking at all—on purpose, anyway. She didn’t want to think about all of the things weighing on her at the moment. She didn’t want to wonder where Jack was. She didn’t want to wonder what was going to happen to him, or to Whitney, or to any of them. She just wanted to escape into Quentin, and the passion, and the connection between them. She just wanted to feel good.
And she wanted to drive him wild.
Lydia undid Quentin’s jeans, sliding down his zipper and flipping the button open. She had the denim fabric down his hips in no time, and her eyes lingered on the
dark material of his boxers. They left nothing to the imagination, and she couldn’t help but stroke her fingers over the bulge at the front of them, licking her lips.
“Lydia,” Quentin said, rasping her name. “God …”
He was vibrating with need, and her own heart was pounding. She didn’t stop to question herself about why she wanted what she wanted. She just took him.
Pulling his boxers down his hips, she shoved all of the fabric aside, leaving him completely naked, stretched out on the bed. Lydia bit her bottom lip, her hand reaching out to wrap around his hard length. He was so big and so ready for her, twitching against her fingers as she held him in her hand.
She bent her head low, positioning herself between his legs, and she lowered her head, skimming her lips along the full length of him before circling her tongue around his head. He moaned, clutching the bedcovers as he lifted his hips up towards her.
“Fuck …,” he gasped, one hand reaching out to cup the back of her neck, his hand like a hot vise on her skin, so strong and so sure. “Yes.”
She didn’t need him to tell her to keep going, because she couldn’t have stopped. Lydia took him into her mouth, completely enveloping him. He brushed against the back of her throat, and she moaned around him, sending vibrations through his body. Quentin gasped and bucked against her, his hand tightening on her neck, as he helped her set the rhythm. She moved over him, sliding her mouth up and down as she sucked him deeper and deeper. She loved the way that his hard length pressed against the back of her throat and filled her mouth completely. She loved the way that he was pulsing with need, his hand now tangled in her hair. She loved everything about it, and she wanted to feel him completely lose himself inside of her.
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