She hadn’t wanted to tell Quinn about Mason, not when he’d probably ask her a million questions and want all kinds of details.
But she hadn’t been left with much of a choice. Rose’s life was on the line and so was her business, and deep down, she knew she was being selfish in putting her pride first. So, she’d told him, giving him the bare facts and leaving out how the asshole had actually died. And it had been surprisingly easy. Quinn had simply listened and even though she’d seen the anger burning in his eyes, he hadn’t said anything. Somehow, at least a couple of tumblers of whisky had been drunk, too, and now she was feeling very, very pleasant indeed. Not to mention a tad fuzzy. Like his beard.
Which she wanted to touch again because, quite frankly, she really liked the feel of it on her fingers. And it made her want to know what it would feel like brushing against other parts of her.
Yeah, you’re totally drunk.
Perhaps nearly three whiskies on an empty stomach had been a bad idea.
Except Quinn’s green eyes were still holding her captive and he’d said something about being beneath him and begging, and a dim part of her knew that if she’d been sober, there was no way in hell she’d be having this conversation right now.
But she was drunk and it was exactly the conversation she was having right now, and that felt vaguely liberating.
His fingers around her wrist blazed against her skin and she wanted to bring them to her mouth, taste them. He’d tasted so good this morning in the office and she couldn’t think of a single reason not to taste him again.
Quinn made a growling sound and let go of her, pushing himself upright and stepping back from the bar, putting some distance between them.
But all she could focus on was the pull of his T-shirt over his chest and shoulders. Around his biceps. Outlining hard muscle and power. Strength and a kind of masculine force that made her mouth go dry.
Quinn Redmond didn’t use that force to hurt people, like Mason did. And he didn’t use it to manipulate people, like her father. He was a strong man, a protector, and all the reasons she’d been giving herself for not going there with him suddenly felt slippery and hard to keep hold of.
He was hot and built so fine, and all that strength was honed and controlled. She couldn’t imagine him lashing out in anger or anything else for that matter. No, when he acted it was with purpose and very deliberately.
Such as when he’d ground against her in her office that morning, the feel of his cock pressing against the softness between her legs making her almost dizzy.
And scared. Don’t forget the scared part.
Yes, but only of the intensity of her own reactions to him. And she couldn’t think why that had seemed a problem before, because it wasn’t now. In fact, now the intensity of her own reactions felt pretty good. Amazing even. It had been so long since she’d felt this way, so long since she’d had physical pleasure of any kind. Years. Eons, even.
“Duchess.” There was a warning in his deep voice. A warning in his fascinating, jungle green eyes, too. “I’ll make you some coffee.”
“I don’t want coffee.” The words were slurred, but only slightly. “I’d much prefer you.” And she wasn’t on her bar stool anymore, but crawling over the top of the bar straight toward him.
Quinn cursed, a low rumble of sound that slid straight down her back like a stroke from a velvet covered hand. Except the hands that landed on her hips weren’t covered in velvet, only hot skin, and sadly they weren’t stroking her. They were lifting her from the bar with almost pathetic ease and depositing her firmly on her feet in front of him.
The floor seemed to be moving, up and down like the deck of a ship, making her reach for something steady to hold onto.
Him.
She pressed her hands against his hard chest, the heat of his body like an open fire, and she swayed toward him, breathless and dizzy.
“Duchess, fuck’s sake,” he muttered under his breath, holding her firmly. “You need to go and lie down.”
“Only if you’re lying with me.” She leaned into him, inhaling his warm, masculine scent. “Oh, you smell so good.” And it had been so long. Why couldn’t she have this? Why couldn’t she have something good for herself for a change? It was only sex, after all. It didn’t have to be anything else if they didn’t want it to be.
You have to stay in control, fool.
Yes, but she couldn’t think why that had been so important to her, especially when he was right here and he felt so warm and smelled so good.
Pressing her palms against his chest, she rose on her toes, trying to turn her face into his neck to get another hit of his scent, but his fingers were somehow in her hair, tugging her head gently back.
“I said no.” Quinn’s voice was harsh and when she looked up, the green light in his eyes was blazing, making an electric thrill arrow down her spine.
The same thrill she’d felt in his office looking up at him as he’d held her against the door, seeing how she’d pushed him, the famously in-charge and in-control Quinn Redmond at the mercy of their chemistry.
And she wanted to do it again. See how far she could take this. See where his boundaries lay, because he had them, she was sure he did. Where were they? How far would he let her push? Where was his line?
You’re drunk and if you start getting into this, you’re both going to regret it.
The thought felt insubstantial as smoke, dissipating quickly no matter how hard she tried to grab it. Not that she tried very hard, since it seemed kind of irrelevant.
Quinn’s fingers tightened on her, and she found herself being lifted and set on top of the bar. Then he put his hands on either side of her hips and leaned forward, examining her. “You’re playing with fire, baby.” His voice was soft but there was iron underneath it. “I can’t have you touching me or doing any of that other bullshit you’re doing right now.”
She stared back, dizzy and wondering if it wasn’t the whisky now that was making her that way, but him. “Why not? It’s just sex, Quinn.”
“It would never be just sex with you, Lily Hammond.” A shadow moved through his gaze. “And it’s best if you don’t assume things about me that aren’t true. “
She didn’t understand what he was talking about. “I’m not assuming anything. Also, it doesn’t have to be anything else if we don’t want it to be.”
Quinn’s gaze was enigmatic. “What you’re assuming is that sex between us would be a certain way and I’m telling you right now that it won’t be.”
Another of those intense, electric thrills went through her, an insatiable curiosity winding tight. “Oh? Well, now you’ve got me intrigued.” And she was. Pretty goddamn fascinated.
“Duchess—”
“You’re also assuming making assumptions, hotshot. You were right into it in my office earlier, yet now you’re being all noble. Funnily enough after I told you about Mason.” She gave him a very level look. “I’m not a victim, Quinn. Don’t treat me like one.”
He was very still and she couldn’t guess at what was going on behind his eyes. So, she slowly lifted her hand and slid her fingers along his jaw and around behind his head, urging him forward. Because if a kiss didn’t convince him, then nothing would.
He didn’t move though, his gaze glittering.
“Please.” God, was she actually begging? Yes, apparently she was, but the back of his neck was so warm beneath her palm and strong too, the muscles tense and hard. Everything about this man seemed custom-designed to appeal to her and for months she’d resisted. But she didn’t want to resist anymore. She was sick of feeling nothing but tired and worried, and scared. She wanted to feel something better, something good. “Just one kiss without everyone looking at us.”
“Duchess,” he murmured at last, on a long breath. “You’re going to be the fucking death of me.”
Then all the resistance bled out of him and he closed the slight distance between them, his mouth covering hers.
Soft. Hot. With a g
entleness she hadn’t expected. And then more, his tongue beginning to explore her, slowly at first. Carefully, so carefully.
She trembled, her hand tightening on the back of his neck, pressing against his hot skin, wanting more, so much more. He must have been drinking coffee because she could taste that and something else dark and delicious that was all Quinn.
It made her hungry. Made her feel hollow. As if she was empty inside and only he could fill her up.
She opened her mouth wider, giving him access, kissing him back, and his hands on her hips tightened, pulling her to the edge of the bar. She spread her legs so he could stand between them, her skirt riding up, the heat of his body driving her a little crazy.
She lifted her other hand, gripping the hard muscles of his biceps and sliding up, curling around his neck, her body arching in toward him, desperate to get closer. Because this wasn’t enough. He was so hot and he smelled like the home she’d never had, and all she could think about was how much she ached to be touched. To be held. To have a man’s hands on her skin, giving her pleasure, making her feel good.
Not just any man, though right? Only him.
The thought felt natural. Of course, she didn’t want anyone else’s hands on her. They had to be Quinn’s hands. Only Quinn and the hard heat of his body. The taste of his mouth on hers and the electricity of his touch rippling through her. Licking up her spine. Setting up an ache between her thighs, a throbbing pulse.
He made a sound, a deep growl from the center of his chest that vibrated all the way through her, and she tightened her arms around him, arching her body even more. Pressing her breasts against the firm muscle of his torso and tilting her hips so she found the hard length of his erect cock pressing into the softness between her thighs.
Lightning sizzled through her as another slight tilt brought pressure against her clit, a bolt of energy that lit her up from the inside out.
“Quinn…” she whispered against his mouth.
But already he was pulling away, releasing her, taking away his heat and his hardness, his taste and his scent. Leaving her holding empty air.
She blinked, trying to get her heartbeat and her breathing under control, feeling like he’d given her paradise, only to rip it away at the last second.
He stood back from her, the look on his brutally handsome face shuttered, the hot gleam in his eyes banked. “A kiss, that’s all you asked for.” His voice was rough, threads of desire and heat running through it. “That’s all you’re getting.”
Her mouth was hot and tingling, and she could still taste the coffee and dark spice that was all him. The skin of her inner thighs that had brushed against his jeans was sensitive and she ached. The throb between her thighs simply wouldn’t leave her alone.
“Quinn,” she said again, her voice husky, but he was already turning away.
“I’ll make sure there’s some dinner in the kitchen for you,” he said over his shoulder as he moved out from behind the bar, heading toward the exit. “But I suggest you steer clear of me for the rest of the night.”
Lily watched him go, then took a shuddering breath and put her hands flat on the bar top. She felt dizzy and now, a little bit sick, and there was a buzzing in her ears. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just made a huge mistake.
No, she knew she’d made a huge mistake.
Her damn life was falling down around her ears and what had she done? She’d gotten drunk and kissed Quinn Redmond. And not for the benefit of her team or for any stupid pretend relationship, but because she’d wanted to. Because she’d wanted something good for a change.
What in the hell had she been thinking?
You weren’t thinking.
No, the whisky had been doing all her thinking for her, and that had been flat-out stupid. When her inhibitions were lowered, that’s when she made questionable decisions, and that’s what she had to be on her guard about.
Lily didn’t know how long she sat there for, but after a while, knowing that sooner or later someone else was going to be around and not wanting to be found with her skirt rucked up around her thighs, drunk, and sitting on the counter in the bar, she eventually pushed herself off it.
She went straight up to Quinn’s room, getting herself a large glass of water and downing it before lying down on the bed to wait until the sick, drunken feeling had passed.
But somehow she must have fallen asleep because when she next opened her eyes, the sunlight was pouring through the window and she was still lying on the bed fully dressed, her clothing rumpled, her hair tangled, and drool on the pillow beside her head.
A headache thumped behind her eyes and her stomach felt empty and hollow.
What a goddamn mess she was.
Rolling over, she checked the time on Quinn’s clock and nearly had a heart attack — it was nine.
She must have slept the whole night away and now she was late for work. Again.
Cursing, Lily dragged herself out of bed and into the shower, washing away the sticky, hot sensation of sleeping in her clothes.
Feeling slightly better, she came out of the bathroom and found something fresh to wear. She was going to need to hurry to get into work, and no doubt she was also going to have to be on her game to answer the questions from the rest of the team, because there would be questions…
Oh, hell. Sh’d have to face West, too. And he was not going to be happy with her. He’d be hurt and angry that she hadn’t told him about the blackmail, and angry, too, that she hadn’t let him know Rose was in danger. He’d want to know why she hadn’t told him and if she said that she couldn’t tell him, he wouldn’t accept it. There would be a scene and if there was one thing she didn’t want, it was a scene.
Not that she had anyone to blame for that, but herself.
So? Suck it up.
Of course she would, because sucking it up was what she always did. But just once, it would be nice not to have to. Just once, it would be nice to have someone else handle things for her.
And he is.
Only one thing, and only because she had no other choice.
He could handle other things, too. If you let him.
With the headache slamming in her skull and the sick feeling in her gut, not to mention the ache of fatigue in her bones that wasn’t anything to do with lack of sleep, the thought of a man as competent and strong as Quinn Redmond handling ‘things’ was incredibly attractive.
But, no. Her days of trusting men were over, especially take-charge men like him. And most especially ones who made her forget herself and crawl over a bar top for a single kiss.
God, she was never going to get over that humiliation. In fact, when she remembered how she’d plastered herself all over his magnificent chest and begged him to kiss her, she couldn’t wait to get out of Lone Star. Facing West was a thousand times better than having to face Quinn after that debacle.
Ignoring her hangover, Lily dressed decisively and with purpose — her favorite ice-blue skirt and white blouse combo with matching blue high heel sandals. And only once her hair was firmly in its usual chignon and her make up done, her armor in place, did she come out of the bedroom.
The couch in the living area of the suite was empty, a blanket folded up neatly and left over one of its arm the only sign that Quinn had slept there the night before.
Hell. He better not have come into the bedroom and viewed the mess she’d made of herself, fast asleep in her clothes and drooling attractively.
Grimacing, she collected her briefcase and purse, heading downstairs.
The hotel was silent — thank God — and she was able to leave without encountering any lurking Redmonds.
A stop on the way into the office to get a coffee and a pastry made her hangover feel slightly better, the sugar hit helping her run the gauntlet of her staff after she pushed open the office door.
Rose was at her desk and chatting with Nora. Both of them looked up as she came in and Nora gave her a cheerful greeting, while Rose simply nodded
without speaking. She was looking annoyed though, which told Lily that her sister probably didn’t believe that staying with Rhys and Vivi had anything to do with renovations to West’s apartment.
Not unsurprising given that Rose wasn’t stupid.
She paused beside the desk. “West in yet?”
“No,” Rose said. “He was out last night.” Her gaze narrowed. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”
Lily decided to ignore that, especially since Nora was standing there looking curiously from her to Rose and back again. “When he gets in, tell him I want to see him,” she said crisply, then without waiting for Rose to reply, she turned and went straight into her office.
She tried to get on with her day, but couldn’t concentrate, her head too full of everything else. So she steeled herself and texted Quinn, wanting to see where he’d got to with her blackmail situation, making no mention of her ill-advised kiss. He texted back telling her that he had nothing to report yet and that West had spent the night at her apartment with no incident.
Oh yes, that’s right, West had stayed in her apartment the night before.
Lily gritted her teeth as a sudden frustration surged through her. Goddammit, she wanted — no, she needed — this situation handled. She wanted to be in her own apartment and with her own life back, getting on with building up her business, and, most important of all, she wanted Quinn Redmond’s tempting, maddening, aggravating presence out of her immediate vicinity.
West didn’t turn up the rest of the day, which only added to her annoyance, and she toyed with the idea of texting him to see where he was, but then discarded it. Texting wasn’t the way she wanted to deal with this particular conversation. It needed to be face to face.
A conversation with Rose also needed to happen, but when she went out after lunch to find her, much to her annoyance, Rose had gone as well.
Her afternoon didn’t go well either, especially when some preliminary investigations into extending a bank loan ended with the bank giving her a flat no. It wasn’t unsurprising, but it didn’t help her temper any, and by the time five o’clock rolled around, even though the effects of the hangover had dissipated, there was a pressure behind her eyes and simmering anger in her gut that wouldn’t go away.
Black Sheep Bounty Hunter: A Texas Bounty Novel Page 11