Something Like Love

by Monica James

  Quinn sighs, running a hand through his messy hair as he sits up. “I really don’t know. If they were there, then probably, I mean, we caused quite a scene.”

  “You mean me,” I correct as I lean up against the headboard.

  “No, we,” he firmly emphasizes. “I never should have allowed you to come. I never should have allowed you to be subjected to that.” And by that, he means my old life.

  All along, he knew. He knew I wasn’t ready. I pay no attention to his alpha comment, because I am my own person, and can make my own decisions. But in this circumstance, I think he may be right.

  “I can’t go back to that life, Quinn,” I whisper, my lower lip trembling.

  “And you won’t.” He quickly pulls me into his lap, crushing me to his chest, and I go willingly, as there is no place I’d rather be.

  I don’t tell him that if my father and Phil catch me, and I’m given an ultimatum, then I’ll have no other choice but to go back to the one thing that will finally break me. Quinn has dealt with enough of my shit, and I know that this would break him. This would only fuel his revenge, and I’m afraid he won’t wait until we’re free. I’m afraid he’ll go out and find them, consequences be damned.

  “We don’t know what my future holds,” I say instead.

  Quinn breaks our embrace, pulling me away at arm’s length. “Our future,” he states. “They’ll never hurt you ever again. I’ll kill them both before they have a chance,” he spits with resolve.

  He knows just as I do that this story ends in violence, bloodshed, and murder. There is no compromise, because you can’t negotiate with people like my father and Phil. I just want it to be over.

  “We didn’t call Abi,” I suddenly gasp, only just realizing this fact.

  Thanks to Polly’s antics, our plans of making contact with the outside world have been put on hold.

  “We’ve always got tomorrow,” he replies, pulling on his hoop, and I smile when I notice he’s put it back in.

  Running my finger along his plump lower lip, deep in thought, I realize that tomorrow can’t get here soon enough.

  “I just want it to be over, ya know? Whatever happens, happens. But I don’t know how much more I can take,” I confess, lowering my eyes, ashamed by my weakness. “I’m slowly losing my mind, and even though we’re so close to obtaining our freedom, I’ve never felt so trapped. When our clemency finally arrives, what happens then?” I question, flicking my eyes to Quinn’s.

  He ponders my question as he runs a finger across my cheek. “We do whatever it takes to survive,” he replies after moments of silence. “I promise you’ll get the life you deserve.”

  But that’s the million dollar question, what life do I deserve? From where I stand, everything bad that has happened is just the karma train collecting passengers.

  “You are a good person, Red,” Quinn says, reading my thoughts.

  “Am I?” I query. “Because at the moment, all I can think about is killing my father. If that’s not a bad person, then I don’t know what is.”

  “You’re a survivor,” he says with a firm nod. “Sometimes, two wrongs make a right.”

  I mull over his response because he’s right. There is never a right time to kill somebody, but in a circumstance such as this, what other choice do I have? I could let the police deal out their own hand of justice, but no doubt Phil knows a lot of dirty cops. He would buy and bribe his way out, not paying for his crimes. Not paying for what he did to Hank. And I can’t live with that.

  “There is always an exception to the rule, and this is one of those times,” Quinn whispers. “Just like you are an exception to my rule.”

  “Your rule?” I question, arching an eyebrow.

  Quinn nods, his eyes smoldering as he tugs on his hoop. “Yes. I promised myself that I’d never fall in love, because I didn’t deserve that happiness. But with you, I didn’t have a choice. You own me. Heart, mind, body and soul—I am yours.”

  Tears sting my eyes because I feel everything he feels, too. To be so deeply in love with another, and have that other person love you in return is a wonderful thing. When you’ve never been loved before, experiencing this kind of love, this all-consuming, obsessive, infatuated kind of love, then it makes up for all the lovelessness, because nothing could ever compare to being adored by Quinn.

  “I love you, Quinn Berkeley,” I say, leaning forward and nuzzling his cheek.

  “And I love you, Mia Lee,” he replies. I gasp, as it’s the first time I’ve heard him address me in such a way.

  Right now, I just want to forget about everything and lose myself in Quinn. But I know he’ll probably refuse, as what happened between us in the boathouse was a one off thing until we can pay a visit to a pharmacy.

  Quinn reads my train of thoughts loud and clear. “Don’t do that,” he growls softly.

  “Do what?” I question, pulling back confused.

  “You know what,” he replies with a lopsided smile. “Do you know how hard it is to not strip you naked and worship your body?” he asks, biting his lip as his eyes scan down my torso.

  “I’d say very hard,” I playfully tease as I look at the huge bulge tenting between us.

  Quinn moans in his throat as he flops down onto his pillow frustrated, and no doubt, incredibly horny. Placing his hands behind his head, he stares up at the ceiling and suddenly, I see his lips moving.

  “Are you…counting?” I ask with a smirk as I shuffle down next to him.

  “Sshh,” he replies, his lips continuing their muted murmurs.

  “What are you doing?” I chuckle, running my fingers along his tattoo and watching his skin breakout into tiny goosebumps.

  “Not helping,” he grits out between clenched teeth, his eyes squinting shut.

  His strange behavior fascinates me, so I won’t quit it until he tells me what he’s doing. Listening closely, I hear him reciting his…times tables?

  “Quinn, are you doing math?” I giggle wildly, unable to control myself.

  Abruptly stopping, he opens his eyes and turns his head in my direction. “Yes, I’m doing math,” he replies huffily.

  “Um, why?” I ask, biting my lip in hopes my laughter dies down.

  “Because it reminds me of my fifth grade math teacher, who was an absolute hag, and I have to think of the most unattractive thing possible to make this raging hard on go away. It’s worked in the past,” he confesses, but quickly closes his eyes when realizing what he’s just said.

  “You’ve done this before?” I gasp, incredulously.

  “Red, just—” but as he opens his eyes, he sees I’m on the verge of hysteria, and I won’t stop until I know the full story.

  “Yes.” He sighs, playfully narrowing his eyes at me. “There were times when all I would do is fucking count.”

  I can’t help the laugh that rips from my throat, because although I shouldn’t be laughing, this is kinda funny.

  “Why didn’t you just…” I gesture a backward forward motion with my hand as I cluck my tongue twice.

  Quinn groans, reading my hand charades perfectly. “Can we please stop talking about this?” he teasingly begs. “This conversation is really not helping the situation at hand.” He looks down at the front of his straining boxers.

  “I could always lend a hand.” I smirk, and Quinn toys with his lip ring, his eyes growing dark with desire.

  “It’s not your hand I want,” he boldly confesses, staring at my mouth.

  My skin instantly prickles with his lewd suggestion, because god damn, I want that, too.

  “I would be more than willing to do whatever I can to help you out because, I mean, times tables? Quinn, that’s kinda lame.” I grin, and he laughs, tossing his head back with a laugh.

  “It’s the only thing that kept me from…what are you doing?” he quickly says, not finishing his initial sentence as he watches me sit up and reach for the hem of my tank.

  “It’s the only thing that kept you from what?” I ask, slowl
y drawing the tank up my body and eventually slipping it off, so I’m sitting in nothing but my black underwear.

  Quinn’s eyes focus in on my pearled nipples, and his heated stare has my entire body humming in need. “I’m sorry, were we talking?” he huskily replies, attempting to sit up, but I place my palm on his chest and push him back down.

  His eyes widen in shock, and quite frankly, so do mine as a surge of confidence overtakes me, and I slowly straddle his body. He stares up at me, a cocky smile tugging at his full, sinful lips, and I barely suppress a groan as I feel his arousal press against my core.

  “We can’t. I still don’t have any protection,” he says with a hiss as I reach my hand between us, and begin palming his erection through his boxers.

  “This is me not caring,” I defiantly reply, speeding up my movement.

  “Holy shit,” he curses, tossing his head back, his dark hair shadowing the white pillow.

  “Two times two is four,” he moans as I slip my hand underneath the waistband of his briefs and grip his engorged flesh. “Two times, oh shit, fuck,” he gasps as I speed up the friction, watching in hunger as his mouth parts in desire.

  I quite enjoy being in control, and that thought has my devilish side rearing her sinful head. Not breaking contact with this arousal, I carefully lift my hips and wiggle out of my underwear so I’m totally bare. Before Quinn can question what I’m doing, I yank down his boxers and position him at my needy entrance.

  “Red, stop, I’ll hurt you,” Quinn barely chokes out as I begin lowering myself onto him.

  The painful intrusion burns, but the burn feels so damn good, there’s no way I’m about to stop. Quinn’s fingers claw into my hip, steadying me as I take him into me, inch by painful inch. My slow movements only heighten the already mind-blowing sensation.

  When he’s about halfway in, I hold my breath and look into his desire-stricken eyes.

  “Isn’t this much better than times tables?” I gasp with a smile as my muscles slowly accept him.

  Quinn chews on his hoop, his eyes dropping to half-mast as he replies, “This is better than anything in the entire world.”

  “Entire world?” I question groggily, as he’s almost hit home.

  “Yes…this is perfect.” And with that heartfelt declaration, he swiftly raises his hips, impaling me so deeply, tears spring to my eyes.

  But perfection has never tasted so good.

  Chapter 29

  Brand New Day

  Today is a brand new day. That’s my motto, and I’m sticking to it. I am sick of hardships and I am sick of pain. Looking down at Quinn, who sleeps soundly beside me, I’m determined for our future to be happy, and to be normal. Well, as normal as we can be. I will not allow my past to dictate how I live, because I’m sick of living in the shadows.

  Today is a brand new day.

  Slipping out of bed, I step into the bathroom and take a hot shower. This is the first step to sticking to my motto, as starting the day with a hot shower is surely the correct antidote for embracing my new positive approach to life. I always feel better after a shower, so I have a little skip to my step when I walk back into the bedroom and see that Quinn is awake.

  “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” I say tongue in cheek, smirking when I see Quinn’s tousled hair—the hair I was yanking on a few hours ago.

  My cheeks flush and Quinn shakes his head, pointing his finger at me. “And they say guys are bad.”

  “What?” I innocently ask, ogling Quinn’s naked butt as he gets out of bed.

  “Did you leave me any hot water?” he asks, ignoring my mental assault as he kisses the tip of my nose.

  “Maybe some,” I reply, mesmerized by the brightness of his emerald eyes.

  “Well, I better be quick then.” He smirks, and as he turns in the direction of the bathroom, I can’t help myself and slap him on the ass.

  It’s a gentle tap, but the moment my hand touches his flesh, my body awakens, demanding more.

  He turns at the waist, giving me a sultry wink over his shoulder before sauntering off into the bathroom, making sure to flex his butt with every step he takes. My eyes stay fixated on the tight globes until he shuts the door behind him. I sigh, as he’s just ruined the show.

  I decide to take a seat on the chaise under the windowsill and wait for Quinn, and as I look out at my surroundings, I feel a sense of peace overwhelm me. I don’t know where this newfound tranquility has come from, but I welcome it with open arms. I guess deep down, I’m hoping that today just may be the day when Tabitha tells us the news I so long to hear. I can only hope because remember, today is a brand new day.

  Fixated with the greenness in the distance, I fail to see a glimpse of black until it emerges into my full line of sight. It takes a second for me to realize that the black belongs to a van, which has come to a stop on the front lawn, just near the gravel driveway. I wonder if maybe they’ve made a wrong turn, but I doubt that’s the case, as this house is hidden away from the desolate road.

  My skin instantly prickles in fear, and suddenly, my fight or flight instinct takes over. I charge over to the bedside dresser, frantically searching for my gun. Ensuring it’s fully loaded, I reach for my knife and shove it securely into my boot, not wanting to be caught unarmed. I don’t know why I need my weapons; I just know that I do.

  Brushing my long hair off my face, I see the comb I wore to the ball sitting on the dresser, so I reach for it and quickly twist my hair into a bun, as I need my vision totally unimpaired for what I’m about to face.

  Just as I’m about to charge back over to the window to see if the van is still there, Quinn comes out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel. The moment he sees me, he freezes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, rushing to my side.

  Taking a deep breath, I gesture with my head toward the window, wanting Quinn to witness what I did for himself, as I need to know if it’s real. He wastes no times charging over to the glass and curses the moment he stands in front of it.

  “Shit. How long have they been there?” he asks, dropping his towel and reaching for whatever clothes he can find.

  “Not long,” I reply, shaking out my hands, as my fingers need to be limber if there’s about to be a war.

  “Stay here,” Quinn says, rushing over to his bedside table and pulling out his gun.

  “There is no way in hell I’m staying here,” I argue, and just as he’s about to rebuke, our bedroom door crashes open and Tristan runs in.

  “Someone’s here,” he pants, eyeing both Quinn and I as we look like we’re about to square off.

  “I know,” I reply, my breath leaving my heaving chest with winded exhalations.

  “Here,” Quinn says, handing Tristan his gun as he storms toward him. “You know how to use it?”

  Tristan looks down at the piece, and then back up at Quinn with a firm nod. When Quinn darts over to his backpack, producing a revolver, I hate that it’s come to this.

  “Stay with Polly and Cynthia,” I order Tristan, and he only laughs, proving to be just as stubborn as Quinn.

  “I need you to protect them, Tristan. We need the upper hand just in case this goes south really, really quickly,” I plead, hoping to influence his reasonable side.

  Thankfully it works, but he nods unhappily.

  Quinn sprints back to the window, watching and waiting to see what happens next. I creep up behind him, hoping the lace curtain provides us with some covering against whoever stands on the other side. The car is still idling, and I cross my fingers that it’s just a lost traveler. But I think our day has finally arrived.

  When the engine switches off, I know that whoever is in that car is here to stay.

  “Shit,” I curse as I reach for the gun in the waistband of my jeans, and pull back the hammer.

  “You’re not going out there,” Quinn reiterates, his eyes never leaving the scene before him.

  “Don’t you get it; I have to go out there. There is no other choice!” I
yell, enraged. “When I woke up this morning, I told myself that it’s a brand new day, and this now, this is fate’s way of telling me that this right here, this is my day. This is my day of reckoning and redemption, don’t take it away from me,” I beg, latching onto Quinn’s arms, imploring him to face me.

  “It’s too dangerous,” he simply replies, but thankfully he turns, meeting my pleading eyes. “If anything happens to you, Mia, I would never forgive myself.” And this time around, he’s the one doing the begging.

  I know how dire our circumstances must be because he used my name, something which he only does when things are fucking serious. Like right now.

  “It’s Abi!” Tristan suddenly says, breaking my and Quinn’s stare off.

  “What?” I gasp, and both Quinn and I spin toward the window, and see that what Tristan said is true.

  Standing before us on the green, lush grass is my best friend, and she’s never looked so beautiful. Her long red hair is braided to one side, and she looks exactly how I remember her looking—like a fucking angel.

  “What’s she doing here?” I ask breathlessly, my eyes never wavering from her form.

  “I don’t know,” Quinn replies, his eyes narrowing as he chews on his hoop.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Tristan asks, and I turn toward him, confused.

  “Why is she just standing there?” he explains, nodding his head toward the window.

  “She’s scared,” I say, offering that as a plausible excuse, but I know Tristan is right as I turn back around to look at her.

  “Yeah, but why?” Tristan questions, concern apparent in his soft tone.

  Tabitha looks absolutely petrified, and although she’s yards away, I can still see the apprehensive look marring her usual happy, bright face.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” I place my gun on the dresser, about to go meet my friend.

  “Stop, Red,” Quinn stresses, latching onto my bicep.

  “What? Why? What’s the matter with you?” I beseech, pulling out of his grip. “It’s Abi down there!”

  As I watch Quinn’s face fall and turn an ashen white, I know something is wrong. Something is horribly wrong.