Testing the Limits

by Kira Sinclair

  At her hips, his fingers tightened, digging in and holding her hard. His head dropped against the back of the couch, his eyes glassy with pleasure. Pleasure she’d given him. Power and satisfaction rolled through her.

  Deliberately, she tightened her internal muscles, eliciting a groan that rocketed straight through her. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked, his words fractured and desperate.

  “Not until I’m done with you,” she promised. “God, you feel so good.”

  “Babe, you gotta move.” He backed up the words with his big hands, trying to force her hips to rock against him.

  She thought about keeping herself rigid, not giving him what he wanted. But that would torture her as much as him, and she didn’t have that kind of control. Not right now.

  Giving in, Quinn rocked up onto her knees, letting him slowly slide free of her body.

  A moan dragged up from the depths of her lungs as she sank down, once again taking him in all the way. Back and forth. Up and down. She rode him, each successive retreat and plunge going deeper, harder. His hips surged against her, meeting her thrust for thrust.

  The couch creaked. The squeal of the legs against wood told her they were so frenzied the furniture was moving. She didn’t give a damn. And apparently neither did he.

  Her hands gripped the back of the sofa, trying to find that last little bit of leverage that would vault her into oblivion. Her body was strung so tight, she was afraid if she didn’t get relief the only alternative was to break into a million pieces.

  And then it was there, rushing at her, exploding out from the bottom of her spine to curl her toes and pull a cry straight from her soul.

  Jace was right there with her, arms wrapped around her, holding her tight as his hips surged those last few times. She could feel the kick of him deep inside, the swell of his release only prolonging hers.

  When reality finally returned, it was a bit of a shock. Quinn glanced around them and realized they’d moved the couch several feet.

  They were sweaty, their skin clinging together and reluctant to let go. Jace held her tight, his face buried deep in the crook of her neck. His breath, still strained, puffed in ragged draws against her cooling skin. The sensation over her still-sensitive nerve endings had delicious prickles spreading across her shoulders and arms.

  Her gaze landed on a pair of buggy eyes staring at her out of a squished little face. Bacon’s fluffy tail swished lazily back and forth across the end table she was perched on several feet away.

  Quinn’s body jolted. Jace tightened his hold on her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice still gruff with the aftermath of exertion.

  Quinn just shook her head. “Your cat is creepy.”

  They both turned to watch as Bacon daintily picked her way across the furniture over to them and curled her body into a ball on the back of the sofa, right next to Jace’s head.

  “She isn’t my cat.”

  Quinn smothered a laugh. “I don’t think anyone’s explained that to her.”

  “Trust me,” he grumbled, “I’ve tried.”

  Bacon reached out a paw and began to lick it, completely ignoring them. It was almost like she’d been politely waiting for them to finish so she could move in.

  The way Quinn figured it, she had two choices: let a tiny cat chase her away, or ignore her.

  Considering she didn’t really want to move—ever—she went with option two.

  There was a quiet in the aftermath. A peace.

  They weren’t fighting against themselves or each other. In that moment nothing else mattered. Not what was happening outside or down the street or on the other side of the world.

  It was the two of them, together.

  Or it should have been.

  11

  PICKING HER UP, Jace carried her down the hall to his bed. They’d shared it last night, but this was different. There was still a part of him that felt like he was...taking something that wasn’t his.

  It didn’t feel wrong, but it didn’t quite feel right, either.

  Although, when he was touching her it was hard to think about anything else. And Quinn didn’t let him put much space between them. When he tried to pull back and recover some distance, she simply grabbed him and rolled, pillowing her head on his chest and tangling their limbs together.

  What was he supposed to do?

  His hands settled into the curve of her waist and the swell of her hip.

  She let out a small, contented sigh that somehow both soothed him and ratcheted his tension higher. Within a few minutes the even drag of her breath told him she was asleep. Which was good. She’d had a rough couple of days.

  He wasn’t so lucky.

  His muscles tightened, slowly winding beneath the pressure of the tension trying to claim him. It could have been minutes or hours, he wasn’t certain.

  When her phone rang, he was so taut he nearly vaulted off the bed.

  Quinn made a confused, mewling sound, her lashes fluttering before finally opening to reveal dazed eyes.

  “What?” she asked, her voice sleepy.

  Going up on an elbow, Jace reached over her to the bedside table. “It’s your cell.”

  He’d plugged it in to charge and turned it back on for her while she was washing her face and getting ready for bed. “Huh?” she asked, even as he shoved the thing into her hands. She hit the green button, probably more out of habit than true intent.

  Jace could tell the moment her brain kicked in, clearing out the last cobwebs of sleep. She bolted straight up in bed. His sheets slithered down her body to pool at her waist. Soft moonlight slid across her pale, freckled skin. Jace wanted to lean forward and press his mouth to the tiny spots.

  But the expression on her face stopped him.

  Shock. Loss. Followed quickly by crystal-clear anger.

  Her voice was smooth as steel and just as hard when she said, “Give me ten or fifteen minutes and we’ll be there. Thank you.”

  She ended the call, but stared at the phone for several moments, stunned by whatever news it had delivered. Jace half expected the thing to just melt into a useless lump of plastic beneath the fire of her glare.

  He reached for her, running his hands softly across her shoulders and down her back. “What’s wrong?”

  She turned her head and Jace’s hands stilled. His shoulders bunched and within seconds he was bounding off the bed, ready to kill whoever had put that expression on her face. All he needed was for her to point him in the right direction.

  “That was the police. Someone broke into my house. Trashed it.”

  “Trashed it?”

  She nodded. “They didn’t give me details but...I’ve heard enough cops deliver bad news. Thank God, no one’s dead, but he said it in that same tone of voice. It isn’t good.”

  Reaching into a drawer, Jace jerked out a pair of jeans and a T, and was dressed in record time. Quinn was ready right beside him, her mouth a tight, unhappy line.

  They reached the bedroom door together, but before she could go through, he snagged her arm and cradled her to him.

  Gently, his mouth found hers. The move was pure instinct, the need to soothe her. At first she was stiff, maybe surprised, but within a couple of beats she was melting against him.

  Jace felt the swarm of emotion she’d been fighting unfurl through her muscles. Her arms wrapped around him as she pressed soft curves into his hard body. She let the heat and comfort he was offering sink in deep, accepting what he was trying to give her—something good to think about instead of what they were headed toward.

  After several minutes he slowly pulled away. She blinked up at him, the anger and irritation replaced by a dreamy haze. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long and he had to watch it melt away again.

 
; “Dammit,” she finally whispered, burying her head in his chest.

  “You’re fine. We’ll get him.”

  A harsh sound scraped through her throat. “At the moment, everyone better hope the cops get to him before I do.”

  Jace bit back a scoffing sound of his own. Like he’d let Warren close enough for her to do anything to the man. Because if she was close enough to hurt him, Warren was close enough to hurt her.

  * * *

  GOD, HER PLACE was a wreck. More than a wreck. Every piece of glass had been smashed—windows, mirrors, glasses, picture frames. Even the tiny crystal Eiffel Tower Michael had brought her back from a trip to Europe when they’d first started dating.

  Her clothes had been thrown out of the closet and dresser. But that hadn’t been enough. The bastard had taken a pair of scissors and ripped into every single piece she owned.

  Someone had slashed straight through her mattress. Sharp pieces of coiled metal stuck up where her body should have been. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

  Every piece of furniture she owned was either smashed or broken. A few of the more solid pieces looked as if they’d been chopped up with an ax, angry slashes of scarred wood shining through the veneer of polish and stain.

  When the call had come in she’d only been pissed. There hadn’t been room for much more. But it had only taken her a few minutes of shuffling through the debris of her life for that to be overshadowed by fear.

  Which only pissed her off more.

  How had she become a hostage in her own life?

  “Where the hell is he?” Jace’s voice rose from where he stood with one of the cops in the corner of her living room.

  A handful of other officers milled around. Their movements looked random, although Quinn was certain they had a purpose. They wouldn’t wander aimlessly through her broken house in the middle of the night for shits and giggles.

  Jace’s face was thunderous as he looked around, cataloguing the destruction of her home. Fists rolled into tight balls at his sides, he stared at the officer in front of him.

  Quinn had been on the receiving end of that intense gaze on more than one occasion. It had been intimidating enough then. But now that it was full of impotent rage, she felt sorry for both men.

  Thinking to defuse the situation, she moved in their direction.

  His voice was hard, a low, dangerous rumble. “This is the third time this man has threatened her. What does he have to do before someone arrests him?”

  Another officer strolled purposely toward them. Good, more reinforcements. “Trust me, we’d like nothing better. Given Ms. Keller’s previous complaint, Mr. Warren has already received a visit from us.”

  “Fabulous,” Jace ground out between his teeth.

  Reaching the little group, Quinn placed a hand on Jace’s arm. He dropped her a quick glance and then jerked his attention back to the two men in front of him. But his other hand settled over hers and squeezed.

  He was upset, but not on the edge. She’d experienced that moment enough herself to recognize the signs and he wasn’t there.

  Actually, looking around at the mess once more, she was surprised she wasn’t close to losing her temper. A few days ago she definitely would have been. Worrying about keeping Jace calm had given her something to focus her attention.

  “Mr. Warren has an alibi. There’s no way he’s responsible for the break-in.”

  “Having an alibi doesn’t equal not responsible. Especially with his money and connections.”

  One of the officers frowned, deep grooves bracketing his mouth. Reaching up, he rubbed a heavy hand across his neck, bending beneath the weight.

  “We realize that. But it’ll take time for us to prove that and connect the dots.”

  “She could be dead by then,” Jace growled. “Do you know what his next move might be?” He didn’t wait for a response. “No, neither do I, but I know I don’t really want to find out. He’s getting more aggressive. This was a message, destroying the things she cares about and demonstrating he can get to her anytime he wants.”

  Both men shifted uncomfortably. Jace wasn’t saying anything they hadn’t already realized, but they didn’t particularly like that he knew it.

  “We’re doing the best we can, Mr. Hyland.”

  “That’s not enough. What’s it going to take? Her ending up bloody and bruised like his poor wife?”

  “No.” The single word was emphatic. “She’s already got 24/7 protection from you. We can place a unit outside your place as backup.”

  For the first time, Quinn broke into the conversation. “For how long? I’ve already put my life on hold. I have a job. People depending on me. I can’t hole up indefinitely.”

  “No, ma’am. But at least for a few days. We can reevaluate then, see if the threat has changed.”

  Quinn cursed under her breath. She couldn’t help but feel that hiding was the equivalent of letting him win.

  The radio on one officer’s shoulder squawked. He pushed a button and spoke, walking several feet away. The other officer went back to whatever he’d been doing.

  They went about their jobs, but she could tell Jace was still struggling to contain the fury rolling through him.

  It was hard not to appreciate his reaction, the protective streak that had him wanting to take care of her and the entire situation.

  Sighing, she shuffled through the wreckage to the center of her den.

  Staring at the window frame and the plywood Jace had nailed up to cover the opening left by the baseball, Quinn said, “Guess I need to call the window guy and tell him I need more than one repaired now.”

  She could feel Jace, the radiating heat and sheer physical presence of him, when he stepped up beside her.

  “I’m so sorry, Quinn.”

  She shrugged. “Not your fault.” What else was there to say?

  “No, but I hate seeing your home this way. It must hurt.”

  She swiveled her head, taking in the destruction. She’d expected it to hurt. And, yes, there were things she was disappointed to lose, but they were things.

  She’d learned a long time ago, things weren’t as important as the people you shared them with.

  Shrugging again, she answered, “Not really.”

  He pivoted, glass crunching and grinding beneath his feet.

  “What do you mean?” he asked. He stared at her as if she’d gone mad. Or maybe as if she could go mad at any moment, finally cracking beneath the pressure.

  Funny, she didn’t feel under pressure.

  “Yes, it’s going to be a pain in the rear to get everything replaced, but...they’re just things.”

  “Things you and Michael shared. This was your home together.”

  Quinn looked his way, although her body remained pointing away from him.

  She took him in, all barely leashed power and vitality. He was brimming with energy and the need to do something. To fix and protect.

  Apparently he still hadn’t learned you couldn’t save everyone. Or everything.

  It was a realization she’d come to long ago.

  “Michael hasn’t been here in a very long time, Jace.”

  Her words were soft, although she knew that wouldn’t make them hurt less.

  “How can you be so calm?” His voice rose, drawing stares again. Leaning down, he picked up a piece of something she couldn’t identify and dropped it back down again. It broke into a few more pieces, but Quinn didn’t care.

  It didn’t matter. Broken was broken—two, five or twenty thousand pieces didn’t make a difference.

  “How can you be so upset? These aren’t even your things.”

  “That asshole paid someone to break in here and destroy your home, your sanctuary. The place you shared with Michael.”r />
  “No. He paid someone to break in and rip apart a few inanimate objects. It’s my choice whether or not I let him steal something more. And I refuse to give him that power.”

  Jace stared at her, eyes wide with confusion. “I don’t understand you,” he ground out.

  I know, she thought, but didn’t say it. Instead, Quinn walked away. She couldn’t force him to see it from her perspective.

  “If you’d been here. You could have been hurt. Seriously hurt.”

  And suddenly, she understood. Anxiety and fear. She’d struggled with that debilitating concoction herself after her parents died, constantly worried about who else could be stolen from her life.

  Eventually, she’d realized that the worry was wasted energy. She couldn’t stop it, if it was going to happen. She hadn’t been able to save Michael or prevent her grandmother from having a heart attack. It was out of her control.

  The only thing she could do was be grateful for each day she had with the people that mattered.

  Closing the space between them, Quinn rose up on her toes. Hands bracketing his face, she found his mouth and placed a soft, soothing kiss there. “But I wasn’t,” she whispered. “You were protecting me, Jace.”

  * * *

  THE DRIVE BACK to Jace’s place was heavy with unspoken words. The weight of his silence pressed across her chest. They were both lost deep inside their own heads. Part of her really wanted to know what he was thinking.

  The rest of her feared it would just make a difficult night even more untenable.

  Opening her car door, Jace silently waited for her to get out. His tall, strong body towered above her. The heat of him radiated up and down her spine, a delicious sensation that had her melting before he’d even touched her.

  She didn’t have to watch him to know his gaze was darting around the dark parking lot, searching for any sign of a threat. The black metal of his gun was nestled in his palm, ready and waiting.

  Quinn sighed, suddenly exhausted by everything that had been happening for the past few days. It was late. Or early. Closer to dawn than midnight, for sure. She’d just lost all of her possessions and it would probably be weeks before her home was habitable again.