Release Me If You Can

by Christina C Jones

  He hadn’t even been upset when he found out Naomi knew before he did. It wasn’t Naomi’s story to tell. The snide comments he’d made, the bullshit about Renata “making a choice to be connected to the devil”… he’d done that, and the guilt for it belonged to him. All of the fault for how he’d acted laid with him, and he accepted it, with the knowledge — and the promise — that while he had to “play nicely” for now, to ensure Taylor’s safe return, he would never hurt her again, and he would never, ever, allow Wolfe to do so either.

  By the time he aimed one last blow at the heavy bag, an hour had passed and he was soaked with sweat. The ache in his back told him that he’d overdone it, but it was more than worth it. He felt better — lighter— as he headed back up the stairs to take a shower.

  Shaking his head, he chuckled a little as he remembered the way Inez had wagged her eyebrows upon informing him that she was putting he and Renata on this end of the house, away from everyone else, and that they would have to share a bathroom. As much as he may have wanted to share a shower with the adorably sexy Special Agent Parker when they first met, those same thoughts felt… inappropriate now, knowing what she was going through.

  But… at the same time, the kiss he’d given her three days ago, and the subsequent innocent pecks on the forehead or cheek he’d snuck since then, had nothing to do with his lust for the “new girl” on the team, who was his dream girl. That was all about fifteen years of pent-up feelings for his “anonymous” friend.

  And goddamn, she’d been so sweet.

  He had feelings for her, had since they were kids, so that wasn’t really something that needed to be established. She was smart, funny, and interesting enough that she kept him engaged, without him ever seeing her face, or even hearing her voice. More than once, — many times, in fact — he’d passed up going out to spend time talking with her instead, and he never felt “lame” or “nerdy” because of it. Yeah, he liked to kick back, party, club, drink, and so forth, just as much as the next man. And he loved women — their bodies, their company, their attention — but none of them offered the same thing painted_pixel — Renata — did. Nobody, not even Naomi, came close to giving the same type of easy connection he had with her. Not a sexual, physical link, but an intellectual, emotional bond that nobody else touched. Hell, they hadn’t even touched.

  But now they had. And damned if he didn’t want to do it again. He’d imagined what she looked like before, but it definitely hadn’t been the quiet, curvy, braided goddess who walked into his office at the gym with Marcus and Kendall that day. She was beautiful, yeah. But… Quentin wasn’t new to beautiful women, not by a stretch. It was that brain of hers, working double-time under her long, jet black braids that sent blood rushing away from his brain, to other places. Lush, pretty lips that opened to speak words that showed a sweet personality. Big brown eyes, that were bright and expressive, that he now knew hid an abundance of pain —old and new.

  So, although he would love to take secret sexy showers with Renata, while they were stuck in this house together, working to return her daughter, it just… didn’t seem appropriate to even think about something like that. Knowing she was stressed and upset about her daughter, knowing she’d been violated in the worst way… she didn’t deserve his lust… she deserved his respect.

  He was up the stairs, bypassing the bathroom to grab a change of clothes before he doubled back for a shower when the door swung open, and the object of his thoughts stepped out. Quentin tried to avoid her, but they ended up colliding anyway, and dismay filled his chest when she yelped and reached for her injured shoulder, while trying to keep her towel pressed to her body.

  “Ouchhh, shit,” she groaned, closing her eyes as she sucked in a calming breath. “Jesus.”

  “Dammit, my bad. I think that may have pulled at your stitches a little. You’re bleeding,” he said, cringing at the red stain — blood mixed with the water from her skin — forming at the top of her towel.

  Renata pulled her hand away, lifting it up to look it before she closed her eyes a little, like she was dizzy from the pain. Her grip on her towel moved from tenuous to non-existent, and Quentin — grudgingly — caught it as it slipped down, holding it closed against her body.

  “Let’s sit you down, and get you bandaged up, huh?” Not wanting to find out if she was steady enough to walk, Quentin reached past her to push the bathroom door back open, then backed her in.

  In the bathroom, he sat her down on a padded bench in front of the sink, set away from the toilet and shower, then washed his hands. Under the sink, he found an extensive first aid kit, and sat it on the bench beside her. He moved quickly, washing and bandaging the exit wound — which was worse — first, then moving in front of her, and kneeling down to tend to the entry wound.

  “Hey,” he said, noticing that she still had her eyes squeezed shut. “When did you last take anything for the pain?”

  She opened one eye, then gave him the sheepish grin of a child caught misbehaving. “Um… yesterday…morning.”

  “Come on now, cher.” He gave her a playful, gentle smack on the thigh, an action he immediately regretted once his palm came in contact with her warm, still slightly damp flesh. She pulled in a sharp breath, and both of her eyes opened then, focusing on his.

  Move it. Stop touching her, a little voice in the back of his head demanded. But… louder, stronger, was the little voice telling him to move a little higher, to see how she reacted to that.

  He kept it where it was.

  “Ain’t you supposed to be wearin’ a sling?”

  She swallowed hard, letting her gaze drift down to his lips before she finally answered, with a nod. “But not all day. I took it off to shower.”

  “Mmhm,” Quentin grunted, as he reluctantly moved his hand from her thigh to carefully clean the stitches keeping her shoulder closed. “What’s your excuse for not takin’ your pain meds like you should?”

  She winced as he gently pressed a clean, soft cloth against her wound to stop the last of the bleeding, but… the tension he felt emanating from her was more than just a reaction to the pain. This was something… different.

  Renata gave her head a slight shake before lifting her gaze to meet his. “They make me all loopy, and dizzy. Makes it hard to think… and I’m finding that hard enough as it is.”

  She glanced away immediately after those words left her lips, as if she’d given away a secret. He noticed then that she was trembling.

  “You cold?” he asked, then looked around the bathroom for another towel to drape over her shoulders. Before she could respond, he was already on his feet, grabbing a towel, and then back in front of her, covering her bare arms. “That better?”

  The corners of those soft, plush lips turned up in a smile. “Yeah. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She blushed a little at that, then turned her gaze away again as he pushed the towel back enough to resume his task. He moved a few of her braids out of the way, but they fell right back in place, and she gave a quiet laugh. Quentin sat back as she used her left hand to gather her braids, pulling them out of the way over her left shoulder. When she was done, she looked up at him and smiled.

  “Better?”

  Damn she’s beautiful.

  Quentin hadn’t known Renata long enough — in person — yet to know that he loved her hair pulled over her shoulder like that, hanging nearly to her waist. Sitting there in nothing but her towel, hair hanging over her face, skin still slightly wet… she kinda took his breath away, and for a moment, he couldn’t do anything but stare.

  With a little chuckle, he finally nodded as he moved closer to her again. “Yeah. Thank you.” He pulled a tube of antiseptic from the first aid kit, then used a gauze pad to carefully apply it to her stitches. He rested his hand on top of her thigh, and when he touched her, pressing the pad to her shoulder, he quickly realized she was trembling… again.

  So… she’s not cold.

  But if it wasn’t that�
� what? Quentin lifted his eyes in an attempt to meet hers, but she had her head turned, focused on something else. He kept his gaze trained on her face as he tightened his grip on her thigh, and the way she briefly closed her eyes, lowering her brow into a slight frown made him wonder… was she… nervous? Was he making her uncomfortable?

  Shit.

  “Sorry, cher,” he said, moving his hand away from her thigh.

  Renata looked at him then, lifting an eyebrow. “For what?”

  “Making you feel uncomfortable.”

  Her eyebrows dropped as her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Quentin… I’ve never felt uncomfortable around you.”

  …Oh.

  So… if she wasn’t cold… or uncomfortable… what the hell was she trembling for? He covered the wound on her shoulder with clean, dry gauze, then held it in place as he reached for the tape, accidentally brushing a hand over one of her firm, ripe breasts through the towel. She inhaled deep in response, letting out the tiniest, almost imperceptible little sound, halfway between a sigh and a whimper. He froze for just a moment, and then… clarity came.

  Been stuck in the house too damned long. Losing my common sense.

  She wasn’t cold, or nervous, or uncomfortable… she was…excited. Horny.

  Just the prospect of a horny Ren made blood rush to his groin. Trying to focus elsewhere, he retrieved the tape and quickly finished the bandaging of her arm and sat back on his heels.

  Bad idea. Goddamn she’s sexy.

  “Thank you,” she said, the soft, sultry rasp of her voice filling the silence in the room. “It always takes me forever to do that myself.”

  “You’re welcome.” He didn’t move to get up. He wasn’t even sure why he was still there, other than a sudden desire not to pull himself away from the citrusy vanilla scent of whatever she’d showered with. It reminded him of that first day she’d come up from the medical room… the first time they’d kissed. The memory of her sweetness made him want to do it again.

  He drew closer to her, and she didn’t pull away. Her lips were parted, chest heaving, and from his formerly innocent place between her legs, he could feel the heat of her arousal, like it was calling to him. So… he answered.

  She let out a trembling breath as Quentin cupped her face in his hands, then pressed his lips to hers. That first touch sent another wave of heat rushing to his groin, and what felt like straight electricity rushing to his chest. She opened her mouth for him eagerly, and he obliged her by delving his tongue inside as she lifted her hand to the back of his head. Gently, trying not to jostle her too hard while she wasn’t wearing her sling, he drew her as close as he could, groaning at the feeling of the hot apex of her thighs pressed against him.

  Just as sweet as the first time, Quentin thought as he lowered his hands to her legs, running them up the silky skin of her supple thighs, and underneath her towel to touch more of her velvety flesh. He withdrew a little, just enough to gently nibble her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth to soothe it before he pushed his tongue in again. He moved his hands over her hips, and the sexy little whimper she let out almost took away his restraint.

  She wasn’t just sitting there, being kissed. Renata was sucking, licking, kissing him back with an intense urgency that surprised him — but pleased him as well. If she was down… so was he, and he was already right there between her thighs, and… so much for lust vs respect.

  Shit.

  With much reluctance, Quentin ended the kiss, sitting back on his heels again. Looking slightly flustered, Renata pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, blushing as she met his gaze.

  “You good?” he asked, looking away as he stood, putting some distance between them before he gave in and hauled her into his arms and sucked on that bottom lip again himself.

  “Yeah. Thank you again, for bandaging my arm.”

  When he looked back, he avoided her eyes, knowing his chances of not being drawn back in were slim. “No problem, Ren. Make sure you put on that sling, please.”

  He got out of there quickly, not looking back, not stopping until he was behind the door to his room. He leaned into the wall, then let out a loud groan.

  Never.

  Never.

  Never had Quentin been that close with a beautiful, consenting woman, and not taken things as far as she was willing to go. He wasn’t the type to over-analyze whether a woman was really ready or not — he preferred women that said it, and meant it. But… Renata wasn’t just any woman, and their current situation was far from typical. Their friendship still felt… fragile. The last thing he wanted to do was complicate their newly-forged bond with sex, which might later make her feel taken advantage of, but… goddamn.

  As he sighed, that overheard conversation between Tomiko and Naomi came once again to Quentin’s mind. Somebody already has his heart… hacker girl who he’s been talking to for years. Had Naomi seen, all the way back then, what he was just now starting to realize?

  Quentin adjusted himself in his sweats, trying to ease some of the discomfort of being painfully hard with no outlet. A few moments passed before he finally heard the faint open and close of one door, then another, letting him know that Renata had left the bathroom.

  He quickly grabbed shorts and a tee shirt, then hurried into the bathroom to take his own much-needed shower.

  A cold one.

  nine.

  For the first time since being confined to Inez's house... Renata wished she had something else to wear. In the mirror, she surveyed the charcoal grey yoga pants and bright yellow tee shirt she wore.

  Not good enough.

  Not since this morning, not since Quentin had kissed her, again, and run those big, strong hands up her thighs, and... Jesus... made her feel things from a simple touch that she'd only ever made herself feel— with a whole lot more effort. Now, the simple, comfortable clothes she’d been given, since everything she owned before had been destroyed, just seemed… ugh.

  You sound like Taylor.

  She laughed at that. She did sound like her teenage daughter, whining about her clothes not being cute enough. The only difference was, Taylor was a child. Besides her grades, she didn’t have other, more important things to be concerned about.

  Renata did.

  But… she was doing all she could to get Taylor back — everyone was. Unfortunately, what they were doing would take time and patience. They would take King Pharmaceuticals down, and they would get Taylor back… and in the interim, Renata would just have to take that sexual frustration and… bottle it.

  Right?

  With a heavy sigh, she sat down on the edge of the bed, raising her fingers to her still tingling lips. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath then let it go. Maybe… maybe she was overthinking this. She was an adult… a grown, healthy woman. Who said that even in the middle of a stressful situation, she couldn’t find some sort of light in the darkness? Being attracted to — turned on by — a handsome man was just… human.

  The way Quentin could make her feel light-headed and giddy with just a smile, the electricity he ignited in her body, the heat he kindled between her thighs… that was the normal reaction she should have to a man. Not the discomfort, ranging from mild to extreme, which she usually experienced. Not the nausea, and creepy-crawly sensation from being touched. Not the overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame when she took off her clothes for someone else’s gaze.

  She’d actually felt sexy under Quentin’s attention — wanted to show him more. Nearly lost it at the heat of his touch. And more than anything, felt safe, and protected, and calm in his presence. It was just… different. And sitting there on the edge of the bed, it honestly felt foolish to look for reasons to push him away.

  But then again…. She hadn’t pushed him away. He’d left on his own.

  So what was up with that?

  What was the deal with kissing her the way he had, pulling her close like that? Close enough that she could tell that — physically, at least — he wanted her just as badly
as she wanted him.

  Ugh.

  She didn’t know nearly enough about men to determine why he would back down, but… she knew someone — two someones — who probably did. Renata adjusted her arm more comfortably in her sling, then left her room, forcing herself not to linger at the bathroom door, where she still heard the shower running. It took her a few minutes, but she found Naomi and Inez sitting on the balcony off the kitchen, sharing a pot of coffee as the sun rose.

  When she stepped outside, Inez smiled up at her from her seat, but Naomi barely reacted. She grunted a “hello”, then just kept staring at some unknown point in the distant trees. That cold reception made Renata hesitate before closing the door, but Inez shook her head, beckoning her to come on out.

  “Don’t mind Mimi. She’s been like this all morning, just one of those days. Everything okay with you?”

  “Umm…,” Renata started, taking a seat at the table with them, “I… yeah. Yeah, I guess. As “okay” as it can be.”

  Beside her, Naomi snorted, breaking herself from her reverie to return her mug to the table. “You don’t sound very convincing. What’s up? Is it about Taylor?”

  “Yes and no.”

  When Renata didn’t say anything further, Inez waved her hand in a circle, urging her on. “Out with it, girly. We have to get to work soon.”

  Renata looked back and forth between the two women, both of whom were giving her expectant looks. With a deep breath, she turned her gaze to her hands. “Well, I’m having these feelings… sexual feelings, for Quentin. And… I don’t really know what to do.”

  Naomi, who was across the table from her, lifted an eyebrow. “So… have sex with him. Use a condom.” She shrugged, then looked to Inez, who was wearing a similar expression of confusion.

  “Yeah… I don’t see the problem,” Inez said, tipping her head to the side.

  Renata groaned, then pushed out another sigh. “It’s just… I guess it’s not really that simple for me. I mean, we’re only in such close proximity because Wolfe has my daughter. I feel like I should be worried about that.”