by Lisa Sanchez
“But—”
My question went unanswered. With a flash of light, Morgana disappeared just as suddenly as she had appeared.
The door to the small room flew open, revealing a shameless pair of eavesdroppers. Martha and Jess fell through the doorway, having been leaning against it heavily, trying to hear my conversation with the queen.
“Oh my God, Ryann.” Jessica squealed as she jumped up from the floor and raced toward me. “He loves you.” She grabbed hold of my hands and squeezed them before pulling me into a bone-smashing hug.
“Yes,” I said, tears of happiness welling in my eyes. “Now, I just need to help him act on it.”
Chapter 17
WITH A MERE TWO WEEKS to convince Quinn his feelings for me were the genuine article and that he needed to act on them as well, I knew I had my work cut out for me. Leaving no stone unturned, I armed myself with knowledge, turning to friends for advice, surfing the net and even shamefully resorting to perusing the latest issues of Glamour and Cosmo magazines. Sadly, there were no articles on how to seduce your hot faerie boyfriend in ten easy steps, so I was left to my own devices.
The small amount of advice I’d received from friends was all the same. To bag a hot guy, I needed to be myself, but at the same time, show said guy just what he was missing. In other words, I needed to make Quinn jealous, fiercely jealous. Then maybe, just maybe, he’d forget all about the abstaining crap and come at me like a normal boyfriend with delicious kisses, groping hands, the whole nine yards. Heaven!
Two days later, Operation Green-Eyed Monster came to life. Since I was lucky enough to have the weekend off, the girls and I decided we were in desperate need of a night on the town. Aside from our disastrous evening at the Plough when my car was stolen, we’d yet to enjoy any kind of nightlife since the semester began. A night on the town would not only serve in aiding my attempt to woo a very pigheaded Quinn, but would also provide some much-needed fun. Life felt extremely heavy as of late and we were all in desperate need of a break.
Quinn and I spent the better part of the morning together, which had left me slightly worried about the outcome of our devious little plan.
Desperate to make sure I wouldn’t look like one of the founding members of Omega Mu (a fatty), I’d insisted on an early morning trip to the gym so I could get in a good workout.
Quinn, of course, accompanied me, and did his best to appear like the rest of us “normal” folk. Not everyone had the ability to pick up a bench press machine, weights and all, and twirl it around like it was a child’s plaything. Playing down his supernatural strength and speed, Quinn jogged alongside me as I ran on a treadmill.
My plan was simple. I’d assault each of his senses and wear him down. Donning the tightest sports bra I could find, I flaunted what the good Lord gave me, while praying I wouldn’t suffer black eyes in the process, and let my ample cleavage do all the talking. He’d referred to my hips as lovely once before, so I figured I’d flaunt the junk in my trunk as well and squeezed into the tightest pair of booty shorts I owned.
Quinn smiled at me intermittently, but made no mention of my appearance.
I’d struck out.
Ugh! He’s not even acting remotely interested!
My state of undress did, however, result in more than a few stares from several other males in the building, one of which had the balls to approach me and ask for my number. This, of course, did not go over well with Quinn.
He glowered at the fool, venom coating his voice. “Speak to her again and I will end you. Piss off! Eff’ing cakehole!”
“Quinn.” I stared up at him, shock and anger doing a cha-cha across my heart. Seriously…it looked like his head might spin, and I wouldn’t have been shocked in the least if he started spewing pea soup. Anger had him by the balls and he was a man possessed. “That was a bit harsh, don’t you think?” I had no desire to speak with the bold, yet stupid stranger, but I didn’t necessarily think he deserved to die for daring to converse with me.
He glared at me red-faced with a murderous look in his eyes. “No! The gacky fool had no business speaking to you. In fact, the next bloke that so much as looks in your direction is going to lose a limb! Here,” he said and yanked off his t-shirt, throwing it at me as I continued my stationary jog. “Put that on.”
The sight of Quinn running shirtless on a treadmill was simply too much goodness for one pair of eyes. I lost my footing as I ran and had to grab hold of the handrails to keep from tumbling backward off the machine.
I knew Quinn was muscular, but holy hell. The man was built. Every square inch of Quinn’s back, shoulders, arms, chest and stomach was covered in sinewy, well-defined muscle. So beautifully made and so well proportioned was he that I wouldn’t have doubted for a moment if someone told me he’d been Da Vinci’s inspiration for the Vitruvian man. Quinn was sheer perfection in every possible way.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your eye-fucking session, but you still need to put that shirt on, a ghrá,” he said with a particularly smug grin.
Ugh…Irritating male faerie.
“Póg mo thóin!” I snapped and stuck my tongue out at him. Verbal throw-downs were a huge part of our relationship. Both of us passionate people by nature, I’d taken it upon myself to learn a bit of Gaelic with which to abuse him, along with a few other special phrases I was saving for just the right moment. I’d just told him to “kiss my arse.”
This prompted a deep chuckle from Quinn. “I’d be more than happy to kiss it for you later, if you’d like. But for now, I’d like you to put on my shirt.”
I bristled. We both knew he wouldn’t be kissing any part of my anatomy. He needed to shut it. “Gah. You are so…” I couldn’t find the right words. “Damn, freaking, sexy, irritating, pushy faerie. Why don’t you just dress me in a burqa and move me to Afghanistan?” I mean-mugged him, completely exasperated as I pulled his t-shirt over my head.
“Don’t tempt me,” he said, treating me to a smirk.
The shirt smelled like him—absolutely divine. He wasn’t getting it back any time soon. I jabbed a finger in his direction. “You’re not getting this shirt back. So there.” That ought to show him.
“Not a problem, love.” He hit the stop button and hopped off his treadmill. “I’m quite happy to show all these mollies what a real man should look like.” His eyes beamed as he spoke, fully aware he was burrowing under my skin like a chigger and provoking my temper.
I slammed the stop button on my machine with a loud “humph” and hopped off of the treadmill, shooting evil darts in Quinn’s direction.
“You think I’m sexy,” he whispered playfully as I walked past him.
“Zip it,” I grumbled at him under my breath as we made for the door.
The idiot who’d attempted to speak with me earlier must have had a death wish as he approached me yet again with a sappy smile, staring at my chest. I shot him a nasty look. Apparently, some guys never learned.
Quinn quickly got in the idiot’s face making his presence known. “I thought I told you to piss off, cake boy.”
I sighed. Not again.
I reached my arm out instinctively to pull him back until I remembered I was wearing his shirt. As tempting as his muscular chest was, I didn’t want to create an even bigger problem by falling victim to his curse while out in public. Visions of me tearing my clothes off and jumping Quinn’s bones danced across my conscious thoughts. I used my indoor voice instead. “Quinn.”
The idiot took offense to Quinn’s derogatory name. “Cake boy?” He stepped forward, ready to fight, puffing out his chest as he pushed forward against Quinn, foolishly unafraid. If he’d known just how powerful Quinn was, he would have run screaming from the building with his tail between his legs.
Not wanting to see Quinn treat the unwitting stranger to a concrete swirly, I stepped between the two, holding my arms out to prevent the fight I knew was coming.
“Quinn.” I glared at him and shook my head once. Gratuitous displays of m
achismo were not going to fly with me. “Let it go.”
With one last scowl in Quinn’s direction, the idiot retreated, grumbling a low “fucking Irishman” as he left.
It wasn’t until we were in his car speeding to his house that I spoke again.
“Why do you do that? We’re living in the twentieth century, Quinn. Women are allowed to speak to whomever they choose.”
The muscles in his jaw clenched, and I heard him take a deep breath through his nose. He was silent for a bit, focusing on the road as we sped through the back streets of town toward his home. He glanced at me, then back at the road. “I’m sorry, mo chrói. I can’t help myself. When I see another man near you, I go crazy. I can’t stomach the thought of another bloke looking at you.” He looked at me again, his eyes tender and full of emotion. “And when they speak to you, I just want to tear them apart.”
My heart swelled at his admission.
He’s jealous. Maybe the plan for tonight will work.
I sat grinning from ear to ear. I couldn’t help myself. I was fiercely jealous over Quinn and hated that every woman who came within a twenty-foot radius of him all but swooned on sight. Women threw themselves at his feet everywhere we went, regardless of my presence. It was heartwarming to know he felt the same about me.
“I completely understand,” I said, eyeballing his naked chest. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d carry a drool bib with me whenever we were together. I squashed my lusty thoughts and continued. “I feel the same way when women throw themselves at you. Do you think I like it when some over-processed floozy tries to slip you her number while I’m standing next to you?”
A low rumble emanated from his chest. “No, I can’t imagine you do.”
“Damn straight, I don’t. But you don’t see me threatening to shank them either, do you?”
My last comment brought about a laugh, and the tension that filled the air vanished, serving as a prime example as to the nature of our relationship. With both of us being very impassioned, we fought hard, and we loved hard. Or, at least, I hoped we would be loving hard, and soon.
Once we reached his house, I made myself comfortable in his large kitchen. I plucked an orange from a large glass bowl filled with fruit and sat on one of the expensive barstools as I watched him prepare to cook me breakfast. I found it completely sexy that he felt at home in a kitchen and was all the more besotted with him for it. He looked damn hot, he kicked major ass, and he made a mean omelet to boot. The man was heaven-sent.
As I peeled away the thick flesh of my orange, I recalled one of the articles I’d read the previous day about men being voyeuristic, and how they enjoyed watching women eat sensually. Once peeled, I gently pulled apart a piece of the succulent fruit and waited for Quinn to look up from what he was doing.
Once he’d finished chopping whatever it was he was making, he glanced up at me with a smile.
“Mmm…I love oranges.” I took a large bite of the luscious fruit, letting the juices dribble down my chin. I gave him the best sexy stare I could manage, looking at him through my lashes, while simultaneously trying to chew the fruit without looking like a pig. Being sexy and alluring was hard work. And I apparently wasn’t very good at it as Quinn burst into hysterics.
“Quit trying to seduce me with food, a ghrá.”
I chucked the rest of the orange down with a frown, while Quinn resumed his chopping. Whoever wrote those magazine articles was full of crap! I had about as much sex appeal as a wet paper bag.
Sweaty, sticky, horny and incensed, I left the kitchen and headed up the stairs in search of a shower. I felt a bit antsy at first, with the idea of hosing down in his house, but got over my unease quickly. If I planned on getting pelvic with him in the near future, a quick shower in his bathroom was really no big deal. I wandered down the long hallway until I came to what looked like a master suite.
This must be Quinn’s room.
His room was much like the rest of the house. It contained massive amounts of electronic gadgetry, from a huge wide screen television mounted on the wall across from where he slept to a giant entertainment center that housed an impressive looking stereo.
His massive bed was unmade. Draped in black silk sheeting that looked beyond luxurious. Delicious heat spread forth from my center out toward my extremities as vivid images of Quinn and myself, naked and writhing between said sheets, bombarded my consciousness. I wanted nothing more than to dive headfirst into the satiny goodness, but held back due to my desperate need for a shower.
Sweaty from my workout and sticky from my debacle with the fruit, I wandered into Quinn’s bathroom intent on cleaning up. I couldn’t very well seduce him if I stank.
If Quinn’s kitchen was impressive, his master bathroom was nothing short of spectacular. It was bigger than my bedroom, and I stood in awe for a moment at its grandeur. What drew me in the most was the giant shower and tub that took up the entire wall opposite where I stood. The shower, entirely encased in glass, contained three showerheads and had a rather large ledge on which to sit.
Or do other things on…Ack! Get your mind out of the gutter, Ryann.
The tub was big enough to fit a small army and was equally as swanky, as it filled from several spouts in the ceiling. I walked over to the shower and turned on the water, all three showerheads blasting toward its center. As the water heated, I took a chance on a nearby closet and was pleasantly surprised when I found it stocked with several plush towels.
After undressing, I stepped into the lavish enclosure and moaned at the wonderful sensation of the scalding hot water pouring over my body. I took my time washing away the remnants of the morning’s workout and enjoyed the feeling of three showerheads rinsing me simultaneously.
A girl could get used to this!
As I rinsed the last remnants of shampoo from my hair, a familiar tingling sensation peppered my skin, stealing my breath away with its intensity. And my kitty…yeah, it went up in flames. Quinn. Normally, my first instinct would have been to freak out and cover up if I knew someone was watching me in the shower. However, knowing it was Quinn brought on an entirely different response. My breath caught, and a wonderful, erotic chill shot up my spine. A deep aching need sent a rush of moisture pooling between my thighs, hardening my nipples, setting my skin ablaze. My body reacted to his presence before my mind even registered he was there. It was clear my flesh needed him as much as the rest of me.
I turned to see Quinn standing in the doorway. His eyes were dark and hungry as he took in the sight of me naked and wet. His chest moved up and down, each heady breath heavier than the last. His expression was one of extreme hunger and I wanted nothing more than for him to come at me hard and ravish every inch of me with his hands, his mouth.
Flashes of my shower fantasy raced through my mind. I longed for him to cast away his decision to refrain from touching me and climb into the shower, bringing my daydream to life.
I stepped forward, placing one hand on the foggy glass. It was an invitation. Come to me, it said. I need you. I want you. My body cried out, dying for his touch. My mind screamed the words I couldn’t say out loud. I’m desperate for you. I want you in me. Touch. Take. Fill. I’m yours, eternally.
Quinn strode forward, his sapphire eyes locked with mine, until he stood just before me. He placed his hand over mine, nothing but a thin pane of glass between us. Silence and longing filled the room. The intensity of it threatened to shatter not only the glass, but also me along with it.
The raw look of desire in his eyes was nearly my undoing. “In all my life,” he said, “never, have I seen anything more beautiful. There are no words, a ghrá. You take my very breath away.” He leaned forward with a pained look on his face, closed his eyes and placed his forehead against the glass. A loud groan came from deep within his throat and he hit his head against the glass several times. “You’re killing me,” he moaned.
Breathless from the intensity of the moment, I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and chuckled as he reached for a towel. “No,” he said, draping the soft terry over the gold handle on the glass door. “No, you’re not. Get dressed. Breakfast is ready.” He left before I could protest.
He was right, of course. I wasn’t sorry. I wanted Quinn like I’d never wanted anyone before. I was more than ready to hand over my virginity to him on a silver platter. If only he wasn’t so stubborn! Every man had his breaking point. I’d just have to find his.
I stepped out of the shower and toweled off, surprised to see Quinn had left a clean t-shirt and pair of sweats for me on the tile counter. If I was going to have any hope of seducing him before sundown on the eve of Samhain, I was going to have to pull out all the stops. I smiled as I thought about our upcoming evening out.
He’ll never know what hit him.
Chapter 18
“UGH.” I TOSSED another shirt onto the growing pile of clothes at the foot of my bed. “I have no idea what I should wear.” Indecision was my worst enemy at the moment. I struggled with what to wear on a good day. Trying to find an outfit that would woo Quinn into laying hands on me was proving to be a daunting task.
Jessica plucked a shiny silver tank off the floor and tossed it on the bed. “It’s not like you don’t have a ton of clothes to choose from, Ryann. There’s got to be something in that closet of yours that will wow Quinn.”
The three of us, Martha included, decided to get ready for our night out together and were digging through my small storage space, trying to find something for me to wear. Loud music from my iPhone blared throughout the room to ensure Quinn wouldn’t overhear our plan. I didn’t think he planned on lurking about the building, but one could never be sure with him. Precautionary measures needed to be taken.
“I can’t take it anymore. Here…”Jessica crossed the small room, pushed me aside and began digging through my clothes. “What about this?” She pulled out a glittery black halter-top. It had an extremely low back and a plunging neckline, and was definitely one of my sexier tops.