Stripped Away

by Sydney Somers

  “I don’t think so,” he said. His teeth dragged down the side of her neck, his fingers down past her waist. She rolled her hips forward in anticipation of his touch.

  Something clanged.

  She frowned.

  “These come first.” He dangled restraints in front of her.

  She tried to get away, but the shower stall kept her contained. The restraints clicked around her wrists. She bucked against him.

  “Stop.” She stared at him, but his face was nothing more than a black void.

  “Braxton!”

  Two hands shoved her from behind and she stumbled out of the shower. With her hands behind her back, she couldn’t break her fall. The side of her face smashed against the tile floor.

  Wetness. Darkness.

  She choked back a sob and got to her knees. Her heart thundered against her ribs. She couldn’t see anything, hear anything.

  Drops.

  Rain?

  She was alone. Cold and alone. She crawled around, came up against a wall. Turned. Another wall.

  She whimpered, heard crying. Cass? She pushed to her feet moving toward the sound. The ground fell away and she skidded, fell.

  Everything ached. Blood coated her tongue.

  Mom? Dad? Why was she alone?

  Nails bit into her skin and red eyes glowed in the dark. “There you are.”

  The hiss. Then pain. Someone grabbed her by the hair, dragging her forward. She couldn’t move. Bound at both hand and feet. Mouth.

  She screamed though the gag. Heard them laugh.

  She didn’t want to die and struggled to scramble away. A cold fist hit her jaw, snapped her head to the side.

  She didn’t want to die… Didn’t want to die.

  The bedroom light flicked on, but she was out of bed, ready for it. Met the demon halfway.

  “Quinn?”

  Her fist connected with warm flesh and she turned to bring her leg around.

  It was yanked from under her. She staggered back and her legs hit the mattress.

  “Quinn!”

  The sound of her name penetrated this time. Her vision cleared, her pulse no longer so loud in her ears. Braxton hovered over her, his mouth bleeding at the corner.

  She unclenched her fist. “God, I’m sorry.”

  He kneeled in front of her, skimmed his gaze over her with a tender scrutiny that pulled at her heart. “What happened?”

  “Nightmare.” The images swam and blurred behind her eyes. Braxton. She’d been dreaming about him. And then something had taken her. Hurt her.

  She shivered, both wanting and afraid to replay the foggy images.

  “You’re shaking.”

  “Just a little cold.”

  “Here,” he pulled the blanket back down and waited until she scooted to the head of the bed.

  He sat next to her and pushed her hair off her face. That simple touch soothed her, and she reached up and laced her fingers through his.

  “Want some water?”

  Quinn shook her head. Her stomach was still in knots. Nowhere ready for anything to touch it.

  The red eyes of a demon greeted her when she laid back and shut her eyes.

  She clung to his hand when he started to stand. “Stay with me.”

  “Okay,” he said hesitantly.

  She moved over and made room for him in the bed next to her. He slipped under the covers and she moved instantly into his embrace, as though they’d done it a hundred times before this. She drew in a steadying breath, let the familiar scent of his cologne tease her senses, help her find her bearings.

  Quinn snuggled as close and she could get, reassured by the weight of his arms around her. As though he could fight back the demons in her head that she couldn’t see clearly enough to protect herself from.

  “You want to talk about it?” His voice rumbled over her hair.

  She shook her head. She didn’t trust herself to speak anymore than she had to, not until her heart settled back into its regular rhythm.

  He ran his finger along the curve above her ear, tunneling through the strands of hair. Gentle. Steady. Strong.

  She closed her eyes, her hold on him tightening, content when his grip answered hers.

  “You’re safe,” he murmured. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She believed him.

  Just as Cass had once believed her. Fresh tears burned behind her lids, but she squeezed her eyes tighter.

  He stroked her back. “We’ll find her.”

  Quinn didn’t even lift her head to chastise him for sneaking a peek this time.

  “You can hit me in the morning. I won’t even defend myself.”

  Hearing his voice in her head lulled her as nothing else did, and she let herself drift off, clinging to the reassuring promises he whispered in her mind.

  Chapter Five

  “Whoa.”The sleepy command coupled with the hand that latched around Quinn’s wrist kept her from moving another inch. The mattress dipped as Braxton shifted to keep his body half covering hers.

  She thought she’d been dreaming when she had awakened to find herself trapped beneath his athletic frame, his eyes hooded and seductive, his hands peeling back the sheet that draped her. But the second he swooped down to nip at her jaw, following the curve of her neck down to scuff his stubbled cheek along her collar bone, the moment became all too real.

  All too wonderful.

  The undeniable press of his arousal nudged the inside of her thigh, making her go deliciously limp. Then she arched into him, suddenly wishing there was nothing between her skin and the warm palm that molded to her breast. Her nipples hardened, both swollen peaks as hungry for his touch as the fiery ache thumping deep in her sex.

  He rubbed the erect tip, gently pinching it. Quinn dropped her head back to the pillow in abandon as everything inside her snapped fully awake.

  “I get the feeling you like that.” The rough observation simmered with pleasure.

  She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded as he moved to her other breast and snared her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. Hot, silky threads pulled taut deep in her womb, and she parted her thighs, welcoming him as he settled between them. Wishing away the sheet still tangled around her lower half, Quinn didn’t know if he was somehow reading her mind or not when he jerked her shirt up and fastened his mouth over her nipple.

  On a whimper, she bowed up to meet his greedy mouth. One long, wet pull of his lips turned her quiet plea for more into a fierce cry. As though Braxton flipped a switch inside, her body crackled, straining for what he offered. Demanding it.

  With the devilish grin of a man who had her exactly where he wanted her, Braxton released her, her nipple slowly sliding free, aching more now than before. There was barely time to process that much before he clamped down on the other, using his fingers to tease the slick crest of the one he’d just abandoned. Each insistent tug wrenched another moan to the back of her throat.

  His hand worked under the covers to find her thong, pulling the meager fabric aside with an impatient yank that made future use of those particular underwear questionable at best. Not that she cared one damn bit. She would have ripped them off herself if one hand wasn’t buried in his hair, locking his head against her breast as she arched with every nip of his teeth and hard flick of his tongue.

  Quinn knew she was already wet even before he parted her cleft, his fingers leisurely testing the path that led to her aching core. For a long time being around Braxton had meant a semi-permanent state of arousal. Despite the chasm that sprouted between them two months ago, one electrified touch and she was ready to give herself completely, to take what he would give her.

  He slid down her body, nudging her legs to open her farther. “It’s a good thing you don’t sleep naked.” He exhaled a hot breath along her inner thigh.

  She shuddered. “Why is that?”

  “I never could have kept my hands off you for the last few hours.” He rubbed at the wet seam then
sealed his mouth over her clit.

  Driven by instinct and desperate to drown herself in the erotic sensation pulsing through her sex, Quinn rolled her hips. The flat of his tongue stroked upwards, dragging another harsh cry from her.

  Braxton’s grunt of approval thickened the heat burning her up on the inside. She dug her heels into the mattress, lifting her bottom to push more firmly against his mouth.

  His tongue swirled over her clit, delicately lashing the slick knot.

  “Damn,” she cursed, trembling with how close she was to release. His lips closed around her, sucking hard, only to ease back to skim the swollen flesh with teasing swipes. The accompanying lazy suction was too much, and at the same time not nearly enough.

  “Too fast for you this time?” The pads of his fingers circled her opening with wicked intent.

  “Brax,” she hissed, fisting the sheet in her hand.

  “Still not enough?” He probed at her damp flesh, then without warning, thrust two fingers inside her.

  Quinn pressed her face against the pillow, muffling the moan that punched up from her chest. She rocked up and then down, meeting the next slow pump of his fingers, wanting to feel him deeper.

  Braxton’s free hand reclaimed her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging until the intensity alone drove her out of her mind. She bit down on her bottom lip, clutching the scream that wanted to tear loose when he continued to lave her clit, sinking down to suck the knot between his lips as he slowly screwed his fingers in and out of her.

  And when he upped the tempo until she was helpless not to bounce her hips in time with his carnal thrusts, release shot along her nerve endings, exploding deep in her sex.

  She locked her thighs against him, caging him to her. “And to think I nearly passed that up for a shower,” she murmured a moment later.

  Braxton froze. His expression turned carefully blank as he rolled away from her, pushing his hands through his hair as he sat up.

  “Brax?” Confused, she studied the straight plane of his back, wishing for a moment she had his ability to push past someone’s mental shields to see what they were thinking. So much had happened in such a short time, it felt like she was sprinting to catch up with the train she’d just missed.

  Something had finally changed between them. If only she could figure out what it was and what it meant.

  “Worried I’ll take all the hot water?” Aside from the fire still smoldering under her skin, it was almost easy to slip back into the habit of teasing him. And it was all she could do to keep the situation from slipping even more beyond her recognition.

  For so long she knew how to handle Braxton, knew how to read him, what to expect. Twice now he’d surprised the hell out of her, making him unpredictable, dangerous, if she didn’t keep her eyes wide open.

  Judging by the stark look on his face when he chanced a glance over his shoulder, he wasn’t any fonder of her attempts to lighten the mood than he had been in the last few weeks. Maybe she’d been wrong to assume that after the other night they could get back to a semblance of normal between them.

  No. She didn’t want normal. Normal had nothing to do with the burst of longing that filled his eyes in her apartment. Normal had nothing to do with how much she’d been ready to give herself to him then. How much she wanted to haul him back to her now.

  “I think we should talk about the nightmares.”

  The abrupt change in subject—not to mention mood—chilled her. Quinn sat up, forced to embrace the cold reality of the morning. A reality where Braxton refused to give in. A reality where her sister was still missing.

  The last thought sobered her, and she yanked her underwear up before getting out of bed. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “You’ve been having them for two months. Two last night alone.”

  “Two?” She remembered waking from the first and asking him to stay with her. But another one? She crossed back to the bed to sit down, almost terrified to try and remember it.

  Braxton darted to his feet the second she got near him.

  Quinn arched a brow. “Problem?”

  He paced away from her. “You get too close and I have a hell of a time staying focused.” If he didn’t sound so damn annoyed by that, she might have been pleased.

  “What is there to be focused on?”

  “Keeping my hands to myself long enough to figure out what’s going on with you.”

  “And that’s why you’re here?”

  “Yes.” He cursed. “No. Not entirely.

  She crossed her arms, not liking the team-leader attitude she heard creeping into his voice. “Did I miss the moment when office shrink became part of your job description?”

  “Come on, Quinn. Something is up with you.”

  “And don’t you think if I knew what the fuck it was, I’d say something?”

  “Then let’s talk about it.”

  If she thought talking would somehow fix whatever was going horribly wrong in her head, she would have blabbed up a storm to Royce, Jordan—hell, even Drew. “If you came down here just to get inside my head, you wasted a trip.”

  Braxton laced his fingers behind his neck, wrenching them apart a second later. “I came because I’m worried about you.”

  “So you suddenly claim. Twice now actually.” And was that because things between them might be changing or because he felt it was his responsibility to make sure she was on top of her game?

  “That’s because it’s the truth.”

  “You want to talk truth? Fine. Why the cold shoulder? Why avoid assignments that partnered us together? Why come by my place the other night…and then this morning and make me think…”

  “Think what?” His amber eyes glinted with a cool detachment that couldn’t have been any farther from the hunger that had burned there minutes ago.

  She never backed away from a confrontation and she damned well wouldn’t start now. “Make me think you want me as badly as I want you.”

  Braxton didn’t move, his face impossible to read. The only telling gesture was the clenching of his fist at his side. “Now isn’t the time—”

  Quinn scoffed. “That’s just it, isn’t it? It’s never the right time with you. Work comes first.”

  “Our job isn’t exactly nine to five.” Frustration frayed the edges of his voice.

  “Which doesn’t leave room for anything else, right?”

  He shook his head, resignation filling his gaze. “I don’t know what to say to that, Quinn.”

  And why didn’t that surprise her? She shrugged, feigning indifference. “You know what, don’t say anything. Doesn’t matter.”

  Braxton dropped back on the edge of the bed. “Things are just…complicated.”

  “Yeah.” She headed for the bathroom, needing some space between them. She was beginning to think it was better when he was just ignoring her.

  “We still need to talk.” He started to follow her.

  Quinn whipped around. “From now on the only thing I want to talk about is how to find my sister. If you’re really worried about me then just help me find her. That is why you came here, isn’t it?”

  “If my being here was only about the job, I would have let Drew come.” Braxton held her gaze another heartbeat then walked out of the room, leaving her to stare after him.

  Leaving her more confused than she’d been even a moment ago.

  Quinn stared at the empty doorway, but before she could contemplate following Braxton to force him to finish the conversation she’d been so quick to end, she pivoted around and strode into the bathroom.

  She needed to cool off—in more ways than one.

  * * *

  Braxton sipped at a cup of coffee, the flavor lost among the thoughts spiraling through his mind. He registered Quinn’s footsteps overhead, not bothering to be stealthy in his attempt to get a fix on the vague but turbulent waves of psychic energy coiling around him, taunting him. Unlike during their argument, when her emotion
s running on high made it a little easier to get a glimpse, this time she shut him down. Hard.Not that it mattered. Something wasn’t right with Quinn and if it took restraining the woman to get inside her head long enough to—

  Braxton dropped his chin to his chest. The thought of restraints ignited the guilt that was never far from the surface. Guilt that had churned in his stomach the second Quinn had mentioned her intention of jumping in the shower, right after he’d once again ignored his common sense and put his hands on her.

  If only he could blame Quinn and her tempting body that felt all too warm and inviting tucked against his. The brush of her bare thigh against his earlier was all it took to awaken the longing that continued to sink its hot nails in him. And the way her body arched beneath his touch, the way she lost control, driving her hips up for more.

  He groaned, the pressure on the seam of his pants a reminder that no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts inevitably circled back to Quinn. To how much he wanted her. At least she had that part right. Staying away from her had certainly been a little easier on his mental state—awkwardness aside—but he couldn’t regret what he let happen between them. Not entirely. Not when every second he spent with her made some hidden ache in his chest ease just a little.

  Right up until another reminder drove home the fact that she was still clueless about what happened between them two months ago.

  Setting aside his coffee, Braxton gripped the edge of the counter, wishing he could walk upstairs right this second and tell her the truth. He couldn’t decide if he held back to spare her having to deal with that on top of her sister’s disappearance and her nightmares, or because telling her the truth now would sabotage what was happening between them.

  Whatever the hell it was.

  “Brax!”

  His head snapped up at the warning that reverberated in his head.

  “I need you up here. Now!”

  He bolted for the stairs, ignoring the shock that Quinn had momentarily cracked open her mental shields.

  “Where are you?”

  “Guestroom.”

  Braxton skidded to a halt outside the door. He wasn’t sure what stopped him in his tracks the fastest. That Quinn appeared fine and was standing in the middle of his room in nothing but a skimpy towel, or that she was bent over the edge of his bed, towel hiked enticingly halfway up her hip. In the back of his mind he processed her digging through a small bag, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the fantastic view of her—