I don’t have anything more to say, so I stare out my window, gazing at the reflection of the city lights in the puddles filling the streets.
“Talk to me, Quinn,” Colt finally says, breaking the silence.
“I am.”
“About what’s really bothering you.”
My lips press tight as I remain silent and continue staring out the window. I’d tell him what’s really bothering me if I thought he’d actually listen and talk about it with me.
The rest of the drive back to the house is tense, and when we pull into the driveway, mostly everyone is gone but for Channing and Ash, who are likely holed up in Channing’s room. Once we’re inside, I head straight for my room with Colt right on my heels. When I pause by my door to open it, Colt takes my arm and leads me towards the basement. I willingly go with him, because even when he’s annoying, I still enjoy being around him.
He takes me downstairs to his bedroom, closing the door for privacy in case Sebastian should come home. He turns and faces me, his hazel eyes burning into mine. “Talk to me.”
Oh daaamn. He’s all wet, and his dark shirt is sticking to his chest, outlining his muscular chest. Maybe this was a bad idea. I chew my inner lip and tuck a strand of damp hair behind my ear. “I just want my life back.”
His eyes narrow. “You could have said that in the truck. Why go out tonight? What really pushed you into allowing yourself to be that vulnerable?”
I’m cold, and I wrap my arms around myself. “I wasn’t vulnerable.”
“Bullshit.”
Fine. He wants to talk, we’ll talk. “You’ve made it clear that you don’t want to hear what I have to say.”
Comprehension dawns across his face. “About us,” he says quietly.
“Bingo,” I say dryly.
He rakes a hand through his damp hair. “I’m trying to protect you, Quinn.”
“I don’t want protecting—not from you.”
“You can’t tell me that this…thing between us pushed you into baiting him tonight,” he says, trying to back his way out of the conversation now that I’ve brought up something that he doesn’t want to discuss. Typical Colt.
“I’m sick of being the screw up, Colt. That’s why I went out tonight. Every decision I make brings some sort of consequence. I’m tired of the jokes. I’m embarrassed that I even got myself into this situation. I’m mortified that you know what he did to me, and I let him because…” my voice is so thick that I can’t finish.
“He looks like me,” he finishes, his voice low and deep.
I shiver in my outfit, wishing things were different. I don’t want to be standing here discussing my many faults.
Colt moves closer. “Hey, you’re not a screw up, Quinn. There are a lot of things that you do right.”
I look away, hugging myself. “Just don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
His confusion has my eyes swinging back to him with accusation. “Say all the right things and then push me away.”
He groans, scrubbing his face with his palms. “Quinn, I don’t want to, but I’m no good for you.”
This is one of those times that instinct takes over, and I step closer to him, knowing his head is warring with his body. “Maybe you should let me decide that for myself.”
A muscle begins to twitch in his jaw as he gazes down at me with eyes that betray just how badly he wants me. “Quinn…”
I touch his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his damp shirt. “Don’t think, just feel,” I whisper before pressing my lips against the pulse point of his jaw. It throbs beneath my tongue, and I flick at it before moving to his rough jaw, inching my way closer to his lips. He’s gone completely still, and I know he’s struggling not to take what he wants so badly.
When I reach his mouth, I nip at his bottom lip, daring him to continue ignoring my advances. It’s the last push that he needs, because his hands wrap around my waist, and he backs me up against the wall, his hard body pressing against mine. My head tilts back as one of his hands tangles in the back of my hair, his lips crushing mine. We both groan as we give into the desire. His kiss is hungry, and I meet it with the same fervor.
I want to take this so much further before he comes to his senses, so as we kiss, I reach for the hem of his shirt and tug. It’s a struggle since he’s bigger than me and distracted, but when he realizes what I want, his lips leave mine. For a brief second, I think that he’s going to end this, but instead, he pulls his shirt off, tossing it to the floor before reaching for me and assaulting my mouth once more.
My hands greedily run over the muscles of his chest, lingering over the hard ridges. He’s just so fucking hot. His lips trail down to my neck, and I tilt my head, allowing him access as my hands dive down to the button on his jeans. I want to taste him, badly.
I make quick work of the button and yank down the zipper. Then, I drop to my knees before him and begin tugging his jeans down his hips, my eyes lifting to his. His gaze is heavy-lidded, and he’s too far gone to stop me, I can see it in his eyes.
Triumph shoots through me as I hold his gaze and palm his dick beneath the fabric of his briefs. He groans and shifts his body so that he’s leaning against the wall. My eyes linger over the happy trail of dark hair that leads right to where his hard dick is hidden. I turn my attention to what I’m revealing as I pull his briefs down, and his erection is released and points straight at me.
I’m wet between my thighs, and my lips part as I stare at him. He’s perfect. Long and thick, and looking wickedly aroused. I know that if I take too long, he’ll come to his senses, so I quickly lean forward and graze my lips against his velvety length. Then, I grip the base and wrap my mouth around him, flicking the underside beneath the tip. Colt’s hips jerk reflexively. He’s really responsive, and I like that.
I tighten my fist at his base, and my eyelashes sweep upwards so that I can watch him. His eyes are on my mouth wrapped around him, and his lips are parted as his body trembles with the need to thrust deeply into my mouth.
I give in and decide to quit torturing him. I begin to suck, moving my mouth up and down him, and he immediately starts thrusting his hips in a fluid but gentle way. It’s hot as hell being in charge of his orgasm, and I playfully hum low in the back of my throat as he smoothly pushes himself into my mouth over and over.
“Fuck, Quinn!” he growls.
I deliberately moan and reach up to gently tug on his balls, knowing that he’s close to going over the edge. I’m right, because he makes a muffled sound, and then he’s squirting into my mouth. I readily swallow everything he gives me.
“Shit,” Colt mutters under his breath as his hips still.
My eyes are still focused on him, and I tenderly lick his tip with my tongue.
His eyes are on mine, and I can see guilt seeping into his gaze. Reality has arrived.
I ease away from him, slowly standing.
Colt pulls up his jeans, buttoning them as his handsome face betrays how much he’s struggling with what had just happened.
I touch his face, urging him to look at me. “If it were another woman holding you back, I’d honor your wishes. But the only person holding you back is yourself. You’re a good man, Colt. Everyone knows that but you.”
As much as I don’t want to leave, I know when Colt needs his space. I quietly open his bedroom door and leave to go upstairs.
Thirteen
Colt
She fucking cheated on me.
I’m about to go nuclear if I don’t leave immediately. I stalk through the crowded house and slam out the front door, causing it to bang shut behind me. I can’t get rid of the vision of her on her knees in front of him, his jeans pulled down around his thighs, and my gut twists painfully.
Fuck!
I stride down the driveway, ignoring the people lingering around, drinking and talking.
“Colton!”
She’s following me.
Hoping to avoid her, I lengthen my stride. Ri
ght now, I’m doing everything I can to hold onto my temper. Six months I’ve been seeing Rosita. I’d thought we’d meant something to each other.
I’m almost to the old pickup parked at the curb when she catches up to me, tugging on my arm as her slim body pushes into mine. “Colton! I can explain!”
She’s clinging to me, and as I turn and look down at her with cold eyes, my gaze falls upon her swollen lips.
Disgust fills me.
“Back off, Rosita,” I warn.
She clutches my chest, her nails gripping my shirt—showing no signs of fulfilling my request. Her big, blue eyes are panicked as she says, “I didn’t mean it—”
I firmly grip her shoulders and shove her clinging body away from mine, wanting to put distance between myself and her lies. She stumbles backwards as she totters on her ridiculous high-heeled sandals, and as she begins to tip, I instinctively reach for her. I’m too late as she trips over the street curb and falls to the ground with a yelp of pain.
Alarm sweeps over me at the sound, and I quickly kneel by her crumpled form. “Rosita?”
She turns over and looks up at me with those blue eyes—and they’re filled with accusation and pain as large teardrops fall from them. She’s clutching her arm to her chest, indicating that she’s hurt.
I go still with dread. No… “I didn’t mean it…” I say in a thick voice.
“Hey, are you okay Ros?”
I look up to see a couple of girls rushing over to her. Rosita begins to cry in earnest, babbling about her arm and that I’d pushed her.
I wake with a start, and that cold feeling of dread is still lingering deep within my gut. It’s been a while since I’ve dreamed of Rosita. Quinn’s dredging up so much shit.
Quinn.
My dick hardens as I recall how good it’d felt as she’d had her lips wrapped around me. The sight of her giving me head had been the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
With a frustrated groan, I reach up and scrub my hands over my face. It shouldn’t have happened, but when Quinn touches me, all common sense flies right out of my damned head.
It’s fucking torture.
I want to bury myself between those slim thighs of hers and never leave, but that shit can’t ever happen. If I ever hurt her, it’d kill me. My anger issues, they’re still very much a part of my life, and I just don’t trust myself. I never will, not with my father’s blood running through my veins.
Quinn knows my baggage, so why try to start something that can never be finished? All she’s doing is making us miserable as shit, and in the end, I’m still going to hurt her. Maybe not physically, but rejection sure as shit sucks.
How the hell do I stop this trainwreck?
Fourteen
Quinn
I sleep in late, and as I linger in bed, memories from last night come back to me. My heart skips a beat as I recall having Colt in my mouth. It’d been way better than I’d ever imagined, but there’s going to be consequences. He’d been pissed when I’d kissed him, and last night I’d taken things quite a bit further. I don’t regret it, because Colt needs to realize that there’s no stopping this thing between us. I’ve never felt something so strong with anyone; it’s something that can’t be ignored. Now that I’ve tasted him, I’ve touched him, I’ve listened to him take his pleasure…
No one will ever compare to him.
I sigh and roll over, glancing at my alarm clock. It’s after ten. I should probably get up, but I’m wary to face the day. Colt’s likely going to avoid me, and as much as I understand, it’s still going to hurt.
Am I pushing too hard?
Every time I begin doubting my actions, I remind myself that if I back off completely, he’ll continue to ignore what we’re feeling for one another. He needs to face it, and the only way to get him to do that is to keep trying to show him what we could have.
The man is stubborn, but so am I.
I linger in bed for a few more minutes before dragging myself from its warmth and comfort. Since I don’t have anywhere important to be today, I decide to eat before showering.
After I pull my hair up into a sloppy ponytail, I tug on a short sweatshirt over my camisole, and pull on boxer shorts over my panties. Once I’m somewhat presentable, I leave my room and head for the kitchen. I can hear muted voices coming from the other side of the house, so out of curiosity, I pass by the kitchen and follow the voices. They seem to be coming from the living room. Is that Bryce’s voice?
I enter the living room, and the room goes silent. Colt, Bryce, Channing, Ash, Gabe, and Harper are standing there, their expressions serious.
My eyes momentarily shift to Colt, and my body warms from the memory of finally getting my hands on his body. Before anyone can catch my lingering look, I focus on the others. “What’s going on?”
Everyone remains silent.
Bryce looks at the small group that’s assembled in the room. “Someone going to fill her in?”
Colt looks at me, his expression completely unreadable. “Your car was vandalized sometime during the night.”
My car? I worked my ass off to be able to afford it, and I rush for the door, flinging it open before anyone can stop me. I hurry to where my car is parked in the driveway. All four tires have been viciously slashed. “Son of a bitch,” I hiss.
Bryce appears at my side. “Let’s talk inside, preferably in private,” he suggests.
I drag my gaze from the butchered tires and see that Bryce is looking at me expectantly. Colt stands a few feet away, and the others are lingering in the doorway of the house.
I nod, and both Bryce and Colt walk me back into the house, and after Bryce announces he wants to talk with me in private, everyone leaves the living room.
“Take a seat,” Bryce suggests to me before he glances at Colt. “I think it’d be wise to speak with Quinn alone.”
Colt nods, and his eyes linger on me for a moment before he turns and walks out the front door, firmly closing it behind him.
I frown, ignoring Bryce’s suggestion to sit, and I wonder what he’s going to do until I hear his truck start. Oh. I’m disappointed he’s leaving.
“Quinn?”
My attention shifts back to Bryce.
“Colt’s the one who called me here. I need to know if you want the vandalism to be included with your report from the other day.”
Honestly, I’m not sure. Everyone assumes Slade’s going to progress, but I’m still leery to turn this into something that it may never become. Yes, Slade is irritating. Do I want it to end? Absolutely. Does he want to kill me? I doubt it. He’d already stated in a text that this is all a game to him. He wants to make me miserable for ending things between us. Isn’t that human nature? Rejection causes hurt feelings, and sometimes instances of vengeance. I’m not happy about all the stuff that’s happening, but do I want to turn my life upside down because of it? I’d like to avoid that if at all possible.
“I get the feeling that you’re not completely on board with involving the police,” Bryce says lightly.
“I’m not,” I say truthfully, folding my arms across my chest. “Slade enjoys games, that’s the one thing I can say with absolute certainty. This is what he wants. He wants me to be scared, to disrupt my life.”
He studies me. “What do you think his endgame is?”
“To make me regret ending things.”
“You don’t think he’d physically hurt you?”
“If he did, he’d go to jail,” I point out.
“If he’s caught.”
I blink, catching note of his tone. “Be honest with me, Bryce. What do you think?”
“My instinct, along with experience, are telling me that it’d be wise to have as much information on record as possible. The more we have to go on, the better.”
My heart sinks. It’s one thing to accuse the guys of overreacting, but Bryce has experience behind him with being a detective. “You think this could escalate?”
“It’s best to take precaut
ions.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He looks at me steadily. “The information I have so far is he strangled you during sex, has a fixation for blood, he’s obviously following you, and he currently has no identity and no known place of residence. Is that accurate?”
My brow wrinkles. “When you put it like that…”
His expression gentles as he moves closer to me. “I’ve known you a few years Quinn, and I know it’s in your blood to face things head-on, but sometimes, that can make things much worse.”
“I don’t want to give him what he wants.”
“Which is to allow fear to control your life?” he questions.
I nod. “If I acknowledge it, it gives him control.”
“You need to look at this from a different perspective.” He motions to the sofa. “Why don’t you take a seat. Unless you’d prefer to end this conversation—which is entirely up to you,” he reminds.
I eye him, knowing he has something important on his mind, and I take a seat. Bryce settles a few feet from me. “Hit me with it,” I tell him.
“From my perspective, there are a lot of warning signs. Even if this doesn’t amount to a physical threat, the fact is, he’s stalking you. Maybe he’ll eventually grow bored, but what happens when the next woman ends things with him? The cycle repeats itself. It won’t just stop with you.”
“You don’t think I’m the first woman he’s stalked.”
“No, I don’t.”
“If someone before me had put a stop to it, I might not be sitting here discussing my situation,” I state dryly, knowing that’s exactly where he’s going with this.
“True.”
“What if I don’t want to be the one to legally make it stop? There will be court hearings and all that stuff.” Just the thought makes me shudder.
“That’s your choice,” he says kindly. “It’s all your choice, and I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m just giving you my opinion because you asked for it.”
I study him, knowing him well enough to know that there’s more. “What aren’t you saying?”
No Going Back (Revolving Door Book 3) Page 10