Keeping Quinn: The Next Generation

by Edwards, Riley

  “What you did was brave,” Quinn whispered. “Scary, crazy, and brave. So how bad are your burns?”

  It took a moment for her words to fully sink in, and while I processed what she’d said, I took in her face. The prettiest damn jade green eyes I’d ever seen. Normally they were striking, but right then they were soft and lazy and so far beyond beautiful it wasn’t funny. Being anywhere near Quinn Walker was a mistake, being in close proximity when her eyes looked like that—mammoth mistake.

  “Not bad,” I managed to get out. “Second degree. They’ll heal in a few weeks, and if I’m lucky, the scaring will be minimal.”

  “Right.”

  Her gaze dropped to my arm and when it did I called, “Quinn.” I waited for her fantastic eyes to hit mine before I continued. “I’m fine. The burns really aren’t that bad. The little girl’s fine. The mother’s fine. So all in all it was a good day.”

  “But you said it was a shit call out so I know it really wasn’t a good day.”

  “I was wrong, babe. No call is a shit call when everyone walks out breathin’. I’m just being a whiny dick because I had to sit in the ER for hours while my captain and your friend bitched at me.”

  “Sounds like Jackson.” Her lips pursed together and I swear to God I was fighting the urge to skim my thumb across them to see if they were as soft as they looked.

  “Yeah, Jackson’s a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ kinda man. He would’ve done the same thing and he knows it.”

  “He would’ve. And you would’ve been the one standing next to him in the ER bitching at him for doing exactly what you did. Seems to me that both of you are the ‘do as I say’ type of men.”

  Oh, honey, you have no fucking idea how right you are.

  Straight. To. Hell.

  The longer I spent with Quinn the worse it got. Normally when I saw her, I could flee before I started conjuring up images of her naked. But now the thoughts came freely and frequently.

  Time to leave.

  “Gotta go, babe. Thanks for letting me stay for dinner.”

  “You paid for it, so thank you for dinner.”

  I glanced at the table and wondered if I had it in me to clean up the mess and found that I did not.

  “Next time I’ll do the cleanup.”

  Jesus Christ, what was I talking about—there’d be no next time.

  “Since you’re hurt, I’ll let you slide…this time. But don’t get used to it. There’s no such thing as a free ride around here. Even if you pay, you still have to clean up.”

  Fuck, but she was cute.

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Maybe I could control myself enough to come over, hang out, and be friends with Quinn. It would be a struggle but as I’d learned tonight, the struggle would be worth it.

  Her eyes widened in shock and she jerked back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. You’ve just never smiled at me.”

  “Come again?”

  “Even tonight. You’d laugh at the TV. You’d laugh at something I said, doing it looking at the TV or your food. I’ve seen you smile of course, lots of times, but…um…never at me. You have a nice smile—always—but it’s even better when you’re aiming it at me.”

  Christ. I didn’t know what I wanted to do more, kiss the fuck out of her or leave and never come back.

  I chose to leave and I did it fast, mumbling, “Thanks again.”

  I didn’t hear anything she said after that because all I could hear was her telling me my smile was better when it was aimed at her.

  No way in hell could I be friends with Quinn. It was out of the question.

  * * *

  For three weeks I’d successfully avoided Quinn.

  In the almost seven months she’d lived next door to me, I’d seen her going or coming not a lot but still often—a few times a week. But for the last three, I’d gone to great pains to make sure I didn’t see her. And in those weeks I was still thinking about what she’d said and how it made me feel.

  But all of my careful avoidance came crashing down when I was walking by her apartment door one night and heard her screaming.

  Without a thought, I tried her doorknob, it opened, and the door crashed against the wall as I muscled my way in.

  My eyes scanned the apartment. Candles lit, lights low, but no Quinn. My gut twisted as she yelled again.

  “No, no, no!”

  I followed the shrieks into her bedroom—lights off, bed made—but I could see the light on under the closed door of the master bathroom.

  “Dammit!”

  The door flew open, Quinn exited, and before I could stop her, she was yanking off her t-shirt and tossing it on the floor. She hadn’t noticed me in her bedroom and I found my voice as her hands reached around to unclip her bra.

  “Stop!”

  “What the—” she screamed and stumbled back.

  Her hip hit her nightstand with such force the lamp teetered before it fell over and sent her sideways. Before she could take a header, I moved as quickly as I could and hooked my arm around her waist and yanked her to me.

  “Fuck, Quinn, I’m sorry.”

  Her knee came up, connecting with my thigh as she struggled like hell to get out of my hold.

  “Stop. It’s Brice.”

  Her body went still. So still, her ragged breaths became nonexistent.

  “Let me go,” she wheezed.

  “You gonna try to knee me in the balls again?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then I’m not letting you go.” The room was semi-dark, the only light came from the open bathroom door, but I didn’t need the lights on to see. I could feel—every inch of her soft body was pressed against mine.

  Fuck.

  “Are you okay?”

  “What?”

  “Babe, when I walked by your door I could hear you screaming. Are you okay?”

  “Let. Me. Go.”

  I didn’t, but I did loosen my hold. Her face that had been resting against my chest tipped up. I took in her pretty face and forced myself not to move. Good God, she was gorgeous. By far the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Prettier than her sisters, and that was saying something because the Walker girls had it going on.

  “What happened?” I tried again.

  “What?”

  “Why were you shouting?”

  “Shit!” She shoved with all her might until my arms fell away from her and she rushed around me. “I need to call maintenance. A pipe’s broken.”

  I remained rooted in my spot trying to get my heartrate under control. And as I was doing that, I was trying to puzzle out which had the organ pumping harder: thinking Quinn was in danger, or holding her. My palms on her silky flesh. Her tits incased in nothing but a pink bra pressed against me. Seeing the swell of her ample cleavage in said sexy-as-hell bra.

  Her in danger, that had to be it. I wouldn’t allow myself to think about the rest.

  3

  By the time I’d finished leaving a message with the maintenance guy, tossed my cell back on the counter, and went back into my bedroom, I still hadn’t processed that Brice was in my apartment.

  And when I peeked into my bathroom, finding him on his ass in a puddle of water, half his body under my sink, I’d yet to find a way to calm myself down.

  “You scared the shit out of me, Brice.”

  “Back atcha.”

  “Seriously? You were in my bedroom—in the dark. How did I scare you?”

  “Told you, I was walking by and heard you screaming. Thought you were hurt. Came in, saw candles lit, heard you screaming ‘no’, thought you had someone in your bed.”

  That made me feel nice and warm—he thought I was hurt so he’d rushed in to save me. But more than a little shocked he’d think I had a man in my bed.

  “A man in my bed?”

  He hefted his upper body out from under my sink and stared at me, soaked tampon box, toilet paper, towels, and miscellaneous crap scattered around his legs
. I would’ve been embarrassed if there wasn’t an inch of water flooding the linoleum, water which was now creeping into the carpet—the reason I’d been screaming.

  “Fuck, Quinn, you’re a beautiful single woman shouting ‘no, no, no’ from her bedroom.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “Christ.” His chocolate-brown eyes blazed with anger, something I found immensely interesting. “Put a fucking shirt on.”

  I belatedly remembered why I’d been rushing out of my bathroom. Yes, I’d needed to get my phone, but the silk blouse I’d worn to work was drenched, as were my slacks. I was going to change into something more appropriate to wear while I tried to stem the flow of water leaking from my broken pipe. So I was indeed standing in front of Brice with my shirt off. I was mortified, therefore I did what I always did when I was embarrassed. I lashed out.

  “Sorry, does my bra offend you? I would think a man who’s seen literally thousands of them would be immune.”

  His jaw clenched and without another word, he dipped back under the sink.

  “Jeez, what’s crawled up your ass?”

  He didn’t answer, which pissed me off. I had an older brother, an older sister, and two younger sisters, and a bunch of cousins. I wasn’t big on being ignored, therefore, I’d learned young how to be persistent until I got a reaction.

  “Whatever you’re doing under there, you don’t have to do. I called maintenance.”

  Nothing.

  “And in the future, I’d appreciate you knocking before you barged into my house.”

  Still nothing.

  “What if I did have a man in my bed and we were playing some kinky game? That would’ve been awkward.”

  Not that I actually played any sort of kinky games in bed but it sounded good. But Brice was completely ignoring my taunts.

  “Besides, I thought you were avoiding me.”

  Gah! Nothing. My annoyance elevated to a new high.

  “And I think you broke my lamp. I liked that lamp so I’m pretty pissed it’s broken.”

  That was a semi-lie. I didn’t know if it was broken. However, it was dangling by the cord in front of my nightstand.

  I should’ve been watching what Brice was doing instead of lamenting about a Target lamp I really didn’t give two shits about, because suddenly Brice was in my face and I’d completely missed him getting up.

  And when I say, in my face, I mean one hand had gone into my hair tugging it back and the other around my waist hauling me close.

  “Lock your motherfucking door.” I was stunned into silence—hell, I was just plain stunned. “I already told you once.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I squeaked. “You told me to check the peephole.”

  It was then his deep, angry growl rumbled and the area between my thighs was suddenly drenched and that had nothing to do with the broken pipe.

  “Not gonna warn you again.”

  He stared down at me, I stared up at him, heat sizzled between us. I knew he felt it, too. There was no way he could miss it, the hissing of electricity so strong it was magnetic.

  I rolled up on my toes to get closer.

  Then the banging on the door started, and without warning, Brice set me aside. After that he released me and his face scrunched in utter disgust.

  That hurt.

  A lot.

  “Put on a goddamned shirt,” he ordered and left.

  I jumped when my bedroom door slammed. I rushed to my dresser to find something to wear. By the time I made it to the living room, Brice was gone and in his place was a very impatient maintenance man.

  It wouldn’t be until hours later when the water was turned off to my bathroom, the flood had been mopped up, and the carpets had been shop-vaced, that I’d finally right the lamp on my nightstand.

  It would be hours after that, lying alone in bed, exhausted but nowhere near sleep, when I allowed my mind to replay the scene with Brice. Not the scary part when he rushed into my apartment almost giving me a heart attack. Not the part where he demanded I put on a shirt. Not even the part where I’d caught him staring at my chest. No, I was thinking about the last part.

  The part where his hand was in my hair and he was looking down at me like he wanted to kiss me. Never had I felt that sort of desire. Never had I ever been handled so roughly and never, ever had I wanted a man so badly.

  I tossed and turned trying to get comfortable. An hour later, I rooted through my nightstand, found my toy, and with Brice as my muse, I took care of business.

  Then I slept.

  * * *

  “I know. I know. I’m running late.” I was on the phone with my best girl Paula, rushing to the front door as fast as I dared.

  It wasn’t like I was completely inept, I wore heels pretty much every day. But I was going out to a new club that had opened the weekend before. Paula was being Paula, therefore she was able to get us on the VIP list. I didn’t ask how she accomplished this because I was afraid of her answer. So since we were going to Pulse, I decided on a new outfit—of course that included new shoes. Since I’d never worn my brand-new, hot as sin, four-inch stilettos I was being careful. The heels were pencil-thin and certainly not made to run in. Hell, they weren’t meant to walk fast in. No, these shoes that were way out of my budget but when I saw them I had to have them, were meant to strut in.

  They made a statement. I just wasn’t sure if I was capable of carrying out what that statement said, but I was going for it.

  Two weeks of lying in bed thinking about Brice with nothing but self-induced orgasms made me realize I was nearing twenty-five and I needed to go out and have some fun. Moreover, I needed to get laid. This was not my normal MO. I’d been taught to be cautious with my heart and my body. I’d always been the wild child in my family but that did not include getting laid. Going out and breaking curfew, yes. Not knowing what I wanted from my life, absolutely. But I’d been with three guys. All of them boyfriends. All of them waited until I was ready to have sex.

  Tonight I was dressed to the nines, and as Paula called it, on the prowl. As she’d explained, there was nothing wrong with me ‘getting me some’—her words. Bottom-line was, she was right. If men could do it, so could women. And as Brice had pointed out, I was a single woman. He’d also said I was beautiful, but I wasn’t going there.

  Tonight I was pushing all things Brice Lancaster out of my mind, and hopefully by the end of the night, I’d have something else to think about.

  “You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago,” Paula bitched in my ear, reminding me I was very late. But I needed the extra time to trick out my hair.

  “I know.” I grabbed my purse off the breakfast bar as I passed it and finished, “Leaving right now. Love you.”

  I didn’t wait for her response, I’d see her in five minutes. I tossed my cell in my bag, swung open the door, flew through it, and smashed into a hard, very delicious-smelling brick wall.

  “Jesus.”

  Strong hands went to my biceps to steady me, and as annoyed as I was that Brice was touching me because now I’d have that memory all night, I was grateful. Breaking a heel, or tearing my fabulous little black super-short very clingy dress, wouldn’t do.

  “Sorry. Sorry. I’m in a hurry.”

  When he didn’t speak, I chanced a look at his face. Oh, boy, he was pissed. His features were set in stone, his normally melty chocolate eyes blazed.

  Not good.

  “Seriously, Brice. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to slam into you.”

  The silent treatment he often reverted to was getting old. I hated talking to someone and being ignored.

  “Hello? Earth to Brice. You can let go now.”

  Unfortunately he did. He also stepped back and did a top-to-toe sweep. His gaze came back to mine and something had changed. He still looked angry, but there was something else there. I wanted to ask him why he was looking at me like it was the first time he’d ever seen me. Why his expression had gone from hard to hungry. And if I wa
s reading him right, if he wanted to go into my apartment.

  “Brice?” I hadn’t meant for his name to come out breathy, but the way he looked at me made it hard to breathe.

  His eyes focused on mine, something flashed, wordlessly he stalked to the stairs and descended without a backward glance.

  That hurt.

  Not that it should’ve, he was nothing to me. My best friend Jackson’s other best friend. I’d stupidly thought that after we’d shared Chinese and a few laughs on my couch, we could be friends, too. Sure, it would’ve been a little awkward at first, seeing as I’d crushed on him for years. But we were both adults, and eventually I’d get over it.

  But I was wrong. Apparently Brice didn’t like me all that much.

  And that hurt the most.

  * * *

  “Girl, have I told you how freaking hot you look in that dress?” Bridgett drunkenly asked.

  Bridgett was one of my other girls. Paula, Bridgett, and I grew up together. Much to my father’s dismay, we’d stayed close. He called us troublemakers. He wasn’t wrong. When the three of us were together, if there was fun to be had—we had it. If there was trouble to find—we found it. My dad loved Paula and Bridgett—what he didn’t love were the shenanigans. But he also knew there was no one more loyal than my girls. He’d seen it, the three of us had stuck together through thick and thin.

  “You have,” I told her, probably sounding just as inebriated as she did, considering we’d had the same amount of liquor. “About a hundred times.”