by Aubrey Irons
“You know, for the girl who doesn’t do flings, you’re starting to get pretty good at this whole hit it and quit it thing, Quinn.”
I jerk my head up to see the dry smile on his face; “That’s- that’s not what I-” I shake my head; “I mean it’s no big deal, I just don’t-”
“So how about we just invite Reagan up for some breakfast then.”
He plucks my phone off the bed, and I shriek and snatch it back out of his hands; “Don’t you dare!” He gives me a thin smirk before his eyes narrow and he looks away.
“Wait, Logan, I didn’t-”
“Yeah, Doc, I get it.”
“I just mean she can’t-”
“She can’t know about this lurid little secret; I get it, Quinn.”
I’m dressed, but I’m just standing there across the bed from him, not really sure what I’m waiting for. Closure? Release? Affirmation that me running out the second we wake up and not talking about what happened doesn’t just make this whole thing even more messed up?
“Logan-”
My phone rings again in my hand and I wince. Logan just slides out of bed and pads across the loft to the bathroom, where he slams the door shut behind him.
“Hey, you ok?”
I’m walking through the Union Square Farmer’s Market with Reagan, picking over strawberries and trying to drag my mind away from what happened back in Logan’s apartment. I’m also trying to concentrate on whatever my sister is talking about. Clearly, I’m failing.
“Uh, yeah,” I shake my head and pop a strawberry into my mouth; “Yeah, I’m fine I guess.”
Reagan arches a brow at me with a sisterly look I know all too well; “Bullshit.”
“You know, you’re starting to swear as much as your husband, Ray.” I stick my tongue out at her; “You two are going to have to quit talking like sailors when the baby comes along you know; “ I say, nodding at the small bulge in her stomach.
“Oh, give me a break; I happen to like my husband’s dirty mouth,” Reagan says with a wicked little wink, and I blush. Of course she doesn’t know that I’m actually blushing for a different reason concerning that particular dirty word-play.
Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a dirty mouth, Doc?
OK, yeah, that needs to get the hell out of my head right now.
“You’re distracted.”
“Hmm?” I try and look as innocent as possible, which is hard with thoughts of Logan’s cock throbbing through my head and the guilty blush across my cheeks.
“Is it work? No, wait,” Reagan peers into my face with a little grin; “It’s a guy, isn’t it.”
Crap.
“Nope.”
“Quinn.”
“Hmm?” My sister has this big shit-eating grin on her face and I look at her nervously; “What?”
“Uh, Quinn you have a giant hickey on your neck.”
The flush hits my face like a heatwave, and I cringe and look away as she laughs; “Well well! Cool as a cucumber Quinn is all turned around because of a guy! Do I need to save this date for posterity or something?”
I roll my eyes, trying to will the color away from my cheeks; “It’s not like that.”
“Well, then dish; what is it like?”
Forbidden? Off-limits? Wrong? Incredibly hot and the best sex I’ve ever had in my life?
“He’s- he's someone I shouldn't be with; like at all.”
Reagan rolls her eyes; “Well you’re talking to the right girl, you know. We’re in my wheelhouse now!”
Oh you have no freaking idea how right you are, Ray, I want to say. But of course I don’t.
“So, spill it! Why is this such a bad thing?” Reagan frowns; “Oh, God, this isn’t another workplace thing like with Andrew, is it?”
“Uh, no.” I swallow heavily and look away to avoid her look, but I know she catches me anyways.
“Quinn-”
“Ok! Yeah, sort of.”
Reagan’s eyes go wide as she grins at me; “At Archer? Is he like your boss or something” She makes a dramatic face as she pokes me in the arm; “Ooo, so scandalous, girl!”
“Sort of? Not really I guess.”
More like just plain bossy?
My younger sister waves her hand as if brushing something away; “Oh, who cares then? I say go for it; I mean how long ago was Andy?”
We’ve moved on from the strawberries towards a stand selling cutesy “farm-style” kitchen utensils; “Uh, well, I also sort of live with him.”
It spills from my mouth before I can stop it, and Reagan about drops the wooden salad bowl she’s looking at as she turns to stare at me with her jaw on the ground; “What?!”
“No! No, not like-! I mean, he lives in my building.” I stammer, feeling more and more flustered the further down this rabbit hole we get.
“Ooooh!” Reagan shakes her head at me; “Well, yeah I guess that would make things complicated.”
Tell me about it, I think glumly, dropping my gaze to the ground.
She seems to see the fall in my face though; “Well, is he worth it?”
I shrug.
“Is he worth you?”
I hope so? On both accounts?
“Look, what are you doing now?”
We’re back from the farmer’s market in the lobby of my building, arms full of organic produce. I laugh; “Making salad for the next thirty-seven meals?”
Reagan giggles; “Look, let’s just drop this stuff off and go get brunch and mimosas or something.”
I make a face at her; “Mimosas, preggo lady?”
She rolls her eyes again, “I meant for you, doofus; you look like you could use one. I’ll just stick to orange juice and as many sugary breakfast carbs as they’ll let me eat.”
I laugh; “Sounds worth watching, but I actually need to catch up on some stuff for the new proj-”
And just then, the elevator lobby-door next to us decides to ding open, and without a second’s warning, Logan Dempsey walks right off and right into us. I briefly wonder what the odds of a sinkhole occurring at that very moment in that very spot are.
Reagan blinks; “Logan?” She looks at him quizzically; “What are you doing here?”
His face looks pretty much exactly how I’m sure mine does - frozen in absolute shock - but he manages to catch himself faster than me, standing there rooted to the spot; “Oh, I- uh, I live here.” He swallows; “I mean, I keep a place here. It’s a temporary thing.”
“Oh!” Reagan frowns, looking confused before she turns my way; “Quinn, why didn’t you tell me that Logan-”
I know it’s over when I can feel the heat just pulsing from my face; “Oh,” She finishes, giving me a strange little grin before turning back to him with a smile; “Oh you live here!”
“Uh, yeah, sort of.” His eyes dart to mine over Reagan’s shoulders, and I can see the flash of something in them; “Just a temporary space really while they're working on re-doing my penthouse.”
“Oh, right, of course!” Reagan turns back and looks pointedly at me, before she turns back to Logan; “Well, Logan, whoever she was, I hope you’ve got her locked back up now.”
He frowns; “Excuse me?”
“The jungle girl who gave you those crazy hickies on your neck!” Reagan grins, clearly relishing this moment while I just want to melt through the floor right there. Even stone-cold Logan looks totally flustered, and even borderline blushing as he laughs nervously. He brings a hand up to rub the marks on his neck, and it wouldn’t take a forensic team to figure out that they pretty much exactly match the size of my lips.
He forces out a chuckle; “Oh, yeah, that.”
The lobby of the building is so awkwardly silent for a solid ten seconds that I actually start to wonder if just running back out the door would be as horribly embarrassing a plan as it sounds.
“So, I’ll, uh- I’ll see you at the meeting tonight, Quinn.” Logan finally says quickly, his eyes darting across my face.
“Uh, yep; uh-huh.”
>
He opens his mouth as if to say something more, but then closes it instead and turns back to my sister; “Nice to see you, Reagan.”
He’s barely out the door before my sister is turning to me, the corners of her mouth curling up into a huge grin; “Oooookay, now we’ve got something to talk about, don’t we?”
I nod pitifully, looking at the floor and just wincing.
“I mean, I’m right, right?”
When I say nothing, she comes over and wraps her arms around me, and I just melt into her shoulder, sniffing and trying not to let the emotions get the better of me; “Hey, you know I’m the last person in the world who’s going to judge you for falling for one of Dad’s guys.”
“I know, Ray, but it’s just such a fucking cliché!”
Reagan shoots me a sharp look; “Well I don’t think I’m a cliché.”
“That’s because you aren’t! You and Hudson are like, soulmates or whatever; there’s history there.”
She smiles warmly at me; “Well, it seems you and Logan have histor-”
“Yeah, a one night stand is hardly history, Ray.” I say, barking out a sour laugh.
My sister shrugs; “Well, if that’s all it is, than what’s the problem?”
I guess my silence is enough for her to connect the dots, because the next thing I know, I’m starting to cry as she hugs me tightly and strokes my hair; “I don’t know!”
She squeezes me close, rubbing my back; “So, how about that mimosa now?”
I choke out a giggle through my sniffles into her shirt; “Yes, please.”
19
Logan
Quinn gives me this ridiculous sort of silent treatment-type bullshit over the next few days at work. I mean, she speaks to me when she has to, like when we’re in a meeting or something, but past that it’s like a cold, frosty wall.
And it’s pissing me the fuck off.
Beyond that, I swear she’s going out of her damn way to look fucking amazing around the office. Ok, it’s not like I’m witnessing some sort of porno slutty-doctor-outfit fantasy or anything. It's the opposite actually, and that's what so damn enticing about it. She’s formal, and all business, but there’s something crazy sexy about the way she wears her hair up, or pushes the dark-framed glasses she sometimes wears instead of contacts up the bridge of her nose. She’s got these fucking pencil skirts too that just hug every sweet curve of her ass and show off her legs, and I can’t help but let my eyes linger on her as she walks away from a meeting room, or leans over a desk to type a quick note.
But, while she might be giving me the hardest, most consistent hard-on in the history of the world, that doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed at her for freaking out after that last time together and then getting all weird with me. She’s acting like a total bitch, and it’s rubbing off on my own demeanor in not the best way. Bryce has already called me out twice in the last few days about my attitude. I’m sure he thinks it’s about the new project, which is fine because there’s no way I can tell him it’s actually because I can’t get my mind or my cock to stop dwelling on William Archer’s oldest daughter.
Which brings me to the other thing bugging me. I might be pissed, but fuck, this was never supposed to happen. Hell, this never should have happened the first time, but letting her get under my skin like this and having this whole thing simmer from fooling around into actually sleeping with her a second time is just ridiculous. So whatever bullshit mopey crap I’m feeling, I deserve it for not listening to my own fucking advice. And I can see through that “cold shoulder” routine of hers. She might be mad, but really, I know she’s embarrassed. She’s embarrassed that a girl like her let herself get caught up in a fuck-up like me.
But the frosty looks are starting to get to me, so I end up cornering her when coming out of her office later that afternoon.
“What.” She says, overly dramatic contempt dripping from her lips.
“Oh, drop the indignant bullshit, sweet cheeks.” I growl.
She blushes; “Don’t fucking call me that.”
“Fine.” I plaster a big fake smile on my face; “Quinn, this whole thing between us?”
“There is no ‘thing’ between us, Logan.” She hisses out, looking around as if to make sure no one’s looking; “There’s no-”
“Look we can drop the bitchy ice-queen attitude, darlin” I take a step closer to her, close enough that we’re practically touching and so close that she takes a step back against her office door. Her breath catches, and I see that fire blaze in her eyes just for second, but it’s enough.
It’s enough to instantly shift me from angry to just plain wanting her, and the way the color blooms in her cheeks and the way I can see her nipples getting hard beneath that fucking blouse tells me I’m not the only one feeling that way here. I can feel my cock getting hard in my pants in spite of the fact that we’re at work, or in spite of the fact that she’s deliberately gone out of her way to be a bitch to me the last few days, and I find myself narrowing my gaze as our eyes meet.
“We can't keep getting tangled up like this,” She whispers; “We have work to do, Logan.” She says quietly, her eyes still blazing at me.
“It can wait,” I growl, and I’m milliseconds away from kissing her right there when she shakes her head quickly and pushes me back.
She frowns and blows air out through her pouty lips; “No, Logan, I can’t,” she says pointedly; “This stops right here.”
But Goddamnit, she’s still got that wild look in her eyes, and those fucking nipples are just begging for my fingers, and that skirt is just asking to be yanked up over her hips.
“Is that what you really want, darlin?” I move close and growl into her ear.
I can hear her breath catch as she swallows whatever she was about to say. Her bottom lip trembles, and I know right there that if she says one more fucking word, or moves one millimeter closer to me then I’m going to drag her into her office and fuck her over the desk until she comes screaming my name.
“I- I don’t know,” She breathes out, and it's enough to just push me past that boundary.
She moans when I kiss her, hard; our lips pressing hotly together as she opens her mouth for my tongue. My hands are grabbing her firm ass and sliding down her thigh to yank her leg up to my hip.
“What the hell do you think you're doing, you bastard.” She husks, kissing me back as her skirt bunches around her waist and as she arches her hips against the bulge in my pants. I shove my hand down between us and pull her panties to the side before I start to yank down my zipper.
“Well I was planning on fucking that perfect little pussy right here and now,” I growl into her mouth, feeling her whimper at the coarseness of my words and loving the fact that sweet and innocent Quinn Archer gets turned on by my dirty mouth.
“Oh, and do you plan on fucking me right here in the hallway of our office, you arrogant prick?” You'd think she was protesting if she wasn't snaking her hand down into my fly and wrapping her fingers around my throbbing cock.
I push two fingers deep into her slit and curl them up, feeling her squeeze down on them as her breath catches; “Well just maybe I want the whole office to watch you come for me on my cock.”
She whimpers again at my words, her hand stroking me faster and faster; “Why you smug, cocky, ass.”
“You prim, stuck-up little tease.”
She moans, her brow furrowing as my fingers stroke deep and insistently, and I know by how wet she is that she's close; “I'm going to make you come right here, Doc.”
“Right here?” She whispers out, her eyes closed and her lips parted ever so slightly.
“Right here,” I growl; “I want you to come for me just like you came for me the other night.”
She freezes for second, and then suddenly her eyes are snapping open.
Fuck.
“Oh my God, what are we doing?!” Her cheeks are bright rose and flushed, but she's pulling her hand out my pants and pushing my hand away from h
er.
“Quinn-”
But then she’s shaking her head again and she’s suddenly pushing me back; “No, Logan-” She's shaking her head, frowning; “We can't keep doing th-”
“We can do whatever we-”
“I can’t keep doing this!” She says loudly. Her face is angry and drawn as she looks up into my eyes; “I can’t just keep fixing you up and then sleeping with you every time you get banged up!”
My eyes narrow as I frown at her; “So, that what you think this is? You think I need some kind of pity fuck from you because I get hit or knocked down?”
“Well?” She says, her head cocked to the side and a hand on her hip.
I can feel the heat rising inside of me, but I shove it down as I glare at her; “Listen, Doc, I can take a hit.”
“Yeah? How about a hint, Logan.”
We’re both quiet for a second, just staring at each other and letting the air simmer between us before she shakes her head; “I’m sorry, that’s not what I-”
“Nah, heard loud and clear, Doc.” I smile at her, forcing the grin to my face despite how pissed off I am; “A fling is a fling; I get it.”
“Logan-”
“I have work to do, Quinn.”
She opens her lips again, but then she just shakes her head and storms off, leaving me with a raging case of blue-balls.
Well, that sure went well.
20
Quinn
“There’s no discussion here, Quinn, you’re coming!” Chelsea’s voice is her usual chipper, sunshiny self on the other end of the line, and I can’t help but grin at my youngest sister’s seemingly boundless supply of positive energy.
“Seriously, thanks for the invite, but there’s no way I’m going to a college party, Chels.”
“You make it sound like it’s some kind of frat party, Quinn! It’s being thrown by some of the graduate students anyways, there’ll be plenty of people there your age.”
I’ve got my phone on speaker, and Reagan snorts next to me as I roll my eyes. My age. I’m fucking twenty-seven for crying out loud.