Quinn's Woman

by Susan Mallery

  “That’s my girl,” he said, and grinned. “Ever the delicate flower. It, D.J.? This isn’t ‘it.’ We’re making love.”

  Then, while she was still in shock from what he’d said, he lay back down on the bed and pressed his mouth against her.

  She’d fought against that particular intimacy ever since she’d surrendered her virginity to Bobby McNare in her senior year of high school. As Quinn’s tongue gently stroked her most sensitive spot and pleasure swept through her, she couldn’t help wondering why.

  He kissed her with a softness that left her breathless and needing. He moved over and around, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. She felt her control slipping as the need grew. Her body rebelled, wanting, striving. Tension spiraled to unbearable levels, settled there, then moved higher. Her muscles tightened. Her heels dug into the mattress. She parted her legs more, drew back her knees and pressed against Quinn’s mouth.

  More. She needed more. More of the slow licks, the leisurely explorations. When he lightly sucked on that one spot, she actually groaned. There was no doubting her body’s destination, and if she was to pull back, this was the time. Maybe the last time.

  But it felt too good. She didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t want to be swollen and frustrated. Just this once she wanted to let herself go. Just this once. Just with Quinn.

  He loved her with his mouth. She knew now that this wasn’t just sex. Not in the way she’d known it in the past. This was so much more. A man who actually cared about her and her response. A man who understood her in ways no one ever had before. She wanted to show him that his faith in her hadn’t been misplaced, that she was worthy of his attentions. That—

  He inserted a finger inside of her. Slowly, deeply, then pulled it out again. At the same time, he stroked her faster and faster. The combination of actions was too much. One second she was standing on the edge and the next...she fell.

  Her climax caught her by surprise. Her entire body convulsed into mindless pleasure as powerful muscles contracted over and over. She cried out and shook and begged and still the waves of blissful release swept through her. It went on and on until the shudders slowed.

  When she was finally still, she opened her eyes. He raised his head and looked at her. The fear returned, a cool trickling sensation that warned her she was in mortal danger. But Quinn didn’t attack. Instead he kissed her palm, then shifted so he was kneeling between her legs, and smiled.

  “Am I good in bed or what?” he asked.

  If he’d said something emotionally significant, she might have bolted for the door. If he’d mocked her, she would have tried to kill him. Instead he made it all about himself, and made her laugh at the same time.

  She grinned. “You’re okay.”

  “Just okay? I would have thought I deserved at least a ‘very good’ for that performance.”

  “You were okay.”

  His smile faded and he lightly touched her knee. “Are you going to freak out on me?”

  She might have a second ago, but now she felt fine. “Not unless you morph into an alien.”

  “That wasn’t my plan. Instead I thought I’d rip my clothes off and have my way with you.”

  “That works.”

  While he undressed, she rose and walked into the bathroom where she found the box of condoms in his shaving kit and took one out. Before she turned to leave, she glanced at herself in the mirror.

  She looked like a woman who had been well pleasured. Her hair was tousled, her mouth swollen, her skin flushed. She was naked and content. And happy.

  The last surprised her the most. She wasn’t afraid; she didn’t want to run. Instead she wanted to feel Quinn inside of her, filling her, taking his pleasure in her. She wanted to be with him, bodies touching, straining. She wanted him.

  Caught up in the delight of that thought, she turned and returned to the bedroom.

  Quinn was on the bed. He’d stripped off his clothes and lay on his side, his arousal jutting out toward her. She tossed him the condom and slid onto the mattress.

  “Take me, big boy. I’m all yours.”

  Her light, teasing voice touched him down to his heart. Quinn had been surprised and pleased by D.J.’s acceptance of their lovemaking, and thrilled when she’d allowed herself to climax, but it was her acceptance after the fact that gave him the most pleasure. She wasn’t second-guessing herself or them. She wasn’t pulling back. Somehow she’d decided to trust him, and there was no way he would do anything to violate that trust.

  He slipped on the protection, then moved close and kissed her. When her breathing had increased and her hands roamed over his body with an eagerness that made control nearly impossible, he pushed her onto her back and knelt between her legs.

  Eyes locked on hers, he moved into her waiting dampness. She stretched to accommodate him, then caught her breath as he slipped back out. Her mouth opened in a soundless gasp.

  “What was that?” she asked, then grabbed him by his hips and pulled him in.

  This time as he filled her, he felt a faint ripple. A tightness that sucked him in deeper. She arched toward him, her fingers digging into his rear.

  “More,” she gasped.

  He plunged in again and again. Each time he felt the same tightening as her body shuddered. The faster he moved, the more she demanded. She wrapped her legs around him and drew him in deeper.

  She was strong and powerful, yet the most feminine woman he’d ever known. Her surrender humbled him, even as the rippling contractions worked on his self-control until it shattered and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

  “I can’t wait,” he gasped.

  Her eyes opened. “I don’t want you to,” she whispered and pulled him in deeper still.

  He lost himself in the pleasure of his explosive release. As he did, he felt her body shudder and contract. She sucked in a breath, then screamed as she lost herself in release after release. Their gazes locked, their rapid breathing synchronized, he watched her face, her eyes, and saw down to the perfection of her soul.

  * * *

  D.J. awoke with the feeling that she couldn’t breathe. The tightness in her chest propelled her into a sitting position. She recognized the symptoms immediately, but telling herself it was a panic attack didn’t keep her from feeling that she was going to die.

  She sat up and consciously fought her rising terror. As the covers fell away, she realized she was naked, and with that realization the events of the evening flashed through her mind. Suddenly the panic attack made sense.

  Slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb Quinn, she crawled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. When she’d shut the door behind her, she bent over at the waist and struggled to breathe. Determination battled the fight-or-flight response and slowly her rational side began to win. When the tightness faded and the panic was more manageable, she straightened and turned on the sink tap.

  After washing her face with cool water, she grabbed a towel. The small nightlight illuminated her naked body. Not wanting to see that or think about what had happened, D.J. turned away from her reflection. But instead of returning to the bedroom, she leaned against the counter and fingered the white towel.

  Last night...last night had been amazing, she thought. Terrifying and wonderful and awe-inspiring and horrible and life changing. Quinn confused her. He was so tender and caring, yet the man killed for a living. At least he had. How could he have lived through all that and still have a soul? How could he be so tender with her? How could he understand her?

  She sucked in a breath. That’s what got her the most. He knew. Somehow he’d figured out her fear and he’d worked to overcome it. Why? Shouldn’t he be only interested in himself and his own pleasure? Why had he taken the time and made the effort. Why—

  Her breath caught as an unexpected sob ripped through her. Even as tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, D.J. couldn’t figure out what was going on. There was a second sob, then a third. She grabbed the towel and pressed her face into
it to muffle the sound. What was wrong with her? She never cried. Never.

  But this time she couldn’t stop. The tears poured down her face as her body shook. Harsh, deep, painful cries tore at her throat. She didn’t know why she was crying or why she couldn’t stop. Her whole body ached, from the inside out. She felt as if she were being ripped into a million pieces.

  The bathroom door opened, and Quinn stepped into the small space. Humiliation made her turn away. But there was nowhere to run. Not that he would have let her.

  Instead he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to him. He pulled the towel away and wrapped his arms around her body. As the sobs continued to choke her, he smoothed her hair and murmured softly. Not words, just comforting sounds.

  Not knowing what else to do, she clung to him. He was warm and strong and safe in a spinning world she no longer recognized. The soft brush of his mouth on her forehead was comforting, although she couldn’t say why. The steady beat of his heart calmed her. She cried and cried until she was nothing but a hollow shell, and still he held her.

  Some time later, perhaps just a few minutes, perhaps as much as an hour, the crying slowed. D.J. was still unsure of what was wrong with her, but she had a feeling it was related to her sexual encounter with Quinn. Had her body’s release somehow affected other parts of her being?

  He continued to stroke her bare back. His large hands moved slowly along her skin. Suddenly the contact wasn’t as comforting as it had been. She became aware of their nakedness, of his maleness pushed up against her belly, of her bare breasts flattening against his chest. Liquid heat filled her, then settled between her thighs. Her nipples got tight, her breathing increased.

  Quinn didn’t seem to notice. He continued to hold her with a tenderness that made her ache. But when she reached for one of his hands and brought it to her bare breast, the response was immediate.

  He went from resting to ready in less than five seconds. She shifted so that she could sit on the edge of the counter, then parted her legs. He groaned. After fumbling in his shaving kit, he pulled out a condom and hastily tore the package open.

  As he slipped on the protection, she kissed and nipped at his chest. She flicked her tongue over his nipples and smiled when they hardened and he shuddered. Then he was pushing in her and she couldn’t think anymore, she could only feel.

  Feel his hardness filling her. Feel the pressure building as he slid in and out. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him close. He cupped her rear and drew her closer still. He pumped in and out, and with each aggressive thrust, she got closer and closer until all she had to do was keep breathing. The fall was inevitable.

  Her first climax crashed over her like a hot wave of pleasure. The second was better and the third made her scream. Again and again, until she couldn’t breathe, until he finally called out in guttural release. Until they were still.

  The tears returned. Not the sobs, just silent tears spilling down her cheeks. She could no more explain them than stop them. But Quinn didn’t ask. Instead, after tossing the condom into the trash, he gathered her close, picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

  When they were both under the covers, he simply held her close and lightly kissed her. She clung to him, even after the tears had faded. And when he told her to go to sleep, she closed her eyes and did what he’d requested.

  * * *

  D.J. woke with the sun in her eyes. She turned over and was stunned to find it was after nine. She never slept in—not even when she was sick. Even more shocking was the sight of Quinn up, showered, dressed and reading the paper. He’d done all that and she hadn’t heard him?

  “Morning,” he said when he glanced up from the newspaper and saw her looking at him. “I ordered breakfast. It should be here in a few minutes, if you want to head into the bathroom first.”

  She blinked. “You made a phone call?”

  “Yeah. I’ve tried placing orders using my powers of mental telepathy, but they usually get them wrong.”

  He looked exactly as he had the previous day. There was nothing different about his teasing, his smile, his dark eyes.

  She braced herself for questions, but there didn’t seem to be any. Was it possible he just accepted what had happened between them as normal? Didn’t he want to talk about it?

  “You probably have time for a shower,” he continued. “There’s shampoo by the tub. None of that girly stuff, though. This is macho shampoo.”

  She guessed the answer to her question was no. He didn’t see the need. Which both pleased and terrified her.

  She didn’t want to get up and walk past him, what with being naked and all, but she really had to go to the bathroom. So she threw back the covers and stood up. As she walked by Quinn, he reached out and took her hand. He kissed her palm, then smiled at her.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  That was all. Just thanks.

  Her chest got tight, but not in a panic-attack sort of way. Her heartbeat got weird, too, and her skin felt all prickly. She bent down and hugged him.

  “Quinn, I—”

  But then she didn’t know what to say. He stroked her cheek.

  “I know, Daisy Jane. Me, too. Now go take your shower.”

  She straightened and headed for the bathroom. While she had no idea what she’d been saying, or what he’d agreed with, she felt happy and giddy and light enough to fly. She didn’t even have to look out the window and check the weather to know it was going to be a very good day.

  CHAPTER 14

  “We had sex,” D.J. said as she paced the length of Rebecca’s kitchen.

  Her friend smiled at her. “How was it? I would think that Quinn’s finely honed hunter instincts would play very nicely in the bedroom.”

  D.J. glared at Rebecca. “This isn’t funny. We’re talking about my life here.”

  “If we can’t find humor in our lives, what’s left?”

  D.J. shook her head. “I know. I’m being completely horrible and irrational, but if you knew what had happened. I mean what really happened.” She stopped and pressed her lips together.

  She didn’t want to say anymore. There was no way she could confess the truth about everything. Not even to her best friend. But without some details, Rebecca wouldn’t get how terrible everything was. How out of sorts she, D.J., felt.

  She sucked in a breath and braced herself. “I cried.”

  Rebecca sat at the kitchen table and sipped her morning coffee. When she heard D.J.’s confession, she merely set down her mug and said, “Oh?”

  D.J. stomped her foot. “‘Oh?’ That’s it? I cried. Me. The emotionless one. The fighter. The brave, brash, fearless one. I sobbed my heart out and then we had sex right there on the bathroom counter.”

  “What I really want to know is, wasn’t it cold to sit on tile, but I won’t ask. I can see that wasn’t your point.”

  D.J. felt like screaming. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just that I can’t figure out what the big deal is. We all cry.”

  “Not me. Not ever. And certainly not in front of some guy.”

  Rebecca rose and crossed to stand in front of her. “Quinn isn’t ‘some guy.’ He’s special. You care about him. You trust him. You’re in love with him.” She sighed. “Finally. I’d wondered if you would ever find the right one and you have. I think it’s wonderful.”

  D.J.’s mind froze. Five words repeated themselves over and over in her sluggish brain as the icy cold seeped into her body.

  You’re in love with him.

  In love? With a man? With the enemy?

  “No way. Not now, not ever.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “Sorry. Even you don’t get to pick and choose when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  Panic threatened, which was the last thing she needed. She already felt more fragile than a china doll. “I can’t.”

  “You do. And for what it’s worth, I think you picked a great guy. Quinn is the righ
t match for you. He’s tough enough that you won’t be able to walk all over him, but he’s also tender and caring. You two have a lot in common. In fact, he’s perfect. For you, I mean.”

  D.J. felt as if she’d been gut shot. She pressed a hand against her stomach and took an unsteady step back. Love?

  “No,” she said, and grabbed her keys. “I have to go.”

  “Wait,” Rebecca called. “Don’t be afraid. He’s not going to hurt you. D.J.!”

  D.J. was already running toward her SUV. When she reached it, she ducked inside and quickly started the engine. Love? No. She would never risk it. She couldn’t. Not with a man like Quinn—a man who was faster, stronger and five times more deadly.

  * * *

  D.J. swung her foot out and connected with Quinn’s arm. He was surprised by the force in the blow, but didn’t say anything. She’d been edgy ever since he’d shown up for their practice, and after what they’d shared two nights ago, he couldn’t blame her. He, too, was still trying to adjust to what had happened.

  He’d set out to seduce her and he’d had high hopes for a night of hot sex. What he hadn’t expected was the intimacy of sharing that with her. They’d connected on a level he’d never experienced before. If he was still putting all the pieces together, it made sense that D.J. was having the same problem.

  She’d stayed for breakfast the previous morning and then had left. He hadn’t seen her since. Last night he’d wondered if he should go talk to her, but he’d wanted to give her time. So he’d waited until their scheduled session this morning to see her.

  She shifted her weight and kicked out again. This time he sidestepped the attack and she tumbled onto the mats. He bent over and offered his hand. She ignored the gesture, climbing to her feet by herself.

  Typical, he thought, more amused than annoyed. When in doubt, retreat. It was a tactic he used himself, although he’d never had a chance to in matters of the heart. He’d never cared before. Still, with D.J.’s fears and her past, he understood her need to be wary. He understood a whole lot more than she knew. He’d even understood her tears.