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I dipped into my parents' money, I'd sell myself out for good. There'd be no going back or carving my own way. I'd be successful and keep Quinn. But inside, I'd be a lie, and it would eat a piece of my soul every day of my life until I was nothing but a shell.
"You don't understand, James. I'm not trying to outwit you for the girl. I'm telling you this because I know, man. I was there. I got married to a girl when we were young, and we tore each other apart. Quinn needs stability. She's her own worst enemy because she's driven to succeed at everything she does. It's the classic trait of the child of an alcoholic. She'll race far ahead of you in her drive to help others and be the best, and the guilt will cripple her when you can't keep up. I don't want to see you both destroyed." Brian paused, and his face changed from that of a man trying to beat a competitor to more of a confidant. His voice came out a bit husky. "You're going to break her heart without even knowing it."
Everything inside me stilled. Rebelled and screamed against the words that peppered my soul like bullets. Wanting to howl with the pain, I managed to keep my shit together and not show him how his speech affected me.
"If you care about Quinn at all, keep your distance. And leave us alone."
I left. Walked for a while. Checked my phone and got Quinn's text about waiting for me at home. My head hurt like I had a morning hangover.
Was I wrong? Everyone kept telling me the same thing over and over. My friends. My parents. My art teacher. Brian. I wasn't good for Quinn. We were too different, and I'd never be who she needed. I'd never be able to make her happy.
Had she been confiding in Brian about our relationship this whole time? Were their heart-to-hearts becoming more, but she was afraid to tell me?
I walked, and thought, while it darkened and the full moon peeked out to play with the grumpy night clouds. I didn't know what to do. If I were strong enough, maybe I'd sacrifice my own happiness and let her go, but the thought made my every iota buck in sheer denial. No way was I giving up Quinn. I'd find a way to give her what she wanted if it killed me.
I finally went home, took the long, deep breath yogis always talked about, and walked in.
"Finally!" She jumped up from the couch, a gorgeous sparkle in those inky eyes, and launched herself at me. I caught her, held her close, and wondered why I suddenly had a sick pit in my stomach. Focus. I needed to focus.
"I texted you, and I was waiting, and I wanted to tell you all calm, and maybe plan it, but I can't wait, I have to tell you now! I got the job, James! I got the full-time job at the New Beginnings! Brian told me today."
I grabbed her tight, loving the flush on her cheeks and the curve of her soft lips, and damned if I didn't almost choke up, I was so fucking happy for her. Sometimes, in Quinn's presence, I felt like I was around greatness. Not the sugary, cliched type of do-gooders I'd heard of before. No, Quinn just vibrated at a higher level, all intensity and purity, every part of her soul making mine lighter and more whole.
"I'm so proud of you, baby," I murmured in her ear. "Not surprised. Just proud."
She laughed, clinging to me, then gripped the back of my head and brought it down, feasting on my mouth like she was ravenous, and I was a perfectly cooked rib eye, ready to eat. She gave me everything in that kiss, her lips opening wide, arching up so her sweet breasts cushioned my chest, and I had no doubt she was aroused and ready to go. I grew hard and thick, my jeans shrinking in a matter of seconds, and I wanted her so fucking bad, craved to rip off her pants, part her legs, shove her over the couch, and pound inside of her, over and over, so deep and hard she'd never think of another man again.
I took the kiss deeper, rougher, and she ate it up, practically burning up in my arms for me, my touch, my cock, and something exploded within me. I tore off her sweater, panting hard, and she ripped at my jeans, shoving down my underwear and stroking my cock, until I almost lost it and precum coated the tip, and I was crazed to take her.
"Yes, now, now," she chanted, dropping to the floor and pulling me down on top of her. I growled, shoved her panties aside, and got ready to plunge deep, like the animal everyone believed I was, the animal I knew I was.
I hesitated one moment. Looked at her face. And almost broke apart.
Her eyes were closed, lips parted, gasping for breath as she waited for me to fuck her. I remembered that first day on my yacht in Key West when I took her for the first time. She surprised me with her wildness and innate sexuality, allowing me to go deep into my hidden fantasies and claim her the way I craved. In passion, in anger, in celebration, in frustration. The dark, seething intensity inside me sprang free, but it scared the shit out of me, who I really was. I wanted to fuck her with everything uncivilized, until there was nothing left of either of us.
Dear God, Quinn deserved more. She should have been demanding care and tenderness. She should have been made love to like a fucking goddess I worshipped, not like this, on the dirty floor, with her underwear shoved aside like a whore.
I cringed, but it was too late for me. Already, I was losing control, ready to come just from the musky scent of her arousal, inches from her sweet pussy I wanted to claim. I clenched my teeth, shut my eyes, and scrambled for control. Then I slid home.
She fisted me so tight and hot, rocking her hips and moaning for more, always more. Knowing what she needed to get off, I refused to use her hard like I wanted to, and kept my strokes long and even, bringing her higher in a controlled way, making sure to hit the spot she liked, my thumb resting gently on her clit and rubbing in small circles.
She cried out my name, twisting for more, and her drugged eyes locked with mine in an effort to get me to go faster, harder, to lose control completely. I thrust in and out, refusing to screw her without care, and took her at a slow, steady pace. I pressed my thumb harder against her clit, finally quickening my pace, and I felt her coming, shattering around my dick. I drank in every expression on her face, knowing I gave her this, the release she needed so much, and then I couldn't think anymore because I was coming hard and long, my guttural wail ripping from my lips.
I'm not sure how long we lay together, tangled on the worn, cheap carpet. Her voice drifted in the air.
"Why are you holding back?"
I lifted my head. A tiny frown creased her brow, and her brown eyes held a light of worry. "What do you mean? If that was holding back, I'm definitely not doing my job."
She laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes. Instead, she lowered her gaze and shifted. "I mean, I just noticed you seem to treat me a little, umm, differently. Like, softer, you know?"
I caught her blush and knew she was uncomfortable talking about it. Had she noticed I was trying harder? Women liked men who made love. I wanted to worship her in every way possible, and damned if I couldn't take it to the bedroom. Like Brian would, if she ever belonged to him. Which she never would. "You deserve sweetness, baby." I stroked her hair back from her face with gentle motions. "You deserve to be treated like a fucking queen."
Her lips curved in a smile, and I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her neck. "Don't be afraid I'll break, James," she said. "I want to give you...everything."
My heart splintered, and I rolled her on top of me, kissing her swollen, sweet mouth. "You already do. I won't let you forget it, Quinn. Ever."
She gasped, as if suddenly realizing something important. "Oh, my God, James, I'm sorry. I forgot to ask you about your portrait. Did you hand it in?"
I kept my face impassive. "Yeah."
"And? Did Ava love it?"
My mind went over the crazy-ass scene at the Brush Institute, and Ava's insistence I leave Quinn in order to protect my art. I tried to pick my words carefully. "I don't think I got it, baby. I may need to look at some other options."
She turned around and grabbed my face. Her dark eyes shot sparks of fire. "We're going to fight the decision. You deserve it! You need to talk to Ava."
My stomach twisted. I had to tell her the truth. But not tonight. Not now. "It was a long shot. I'm not going to let it stop me.
I'm checking into some other art schools. Maybe I'll try to get a position in an art museum. Something. Anything."
She huffed out a breath. "I'm so mad! I know you're the best. James, I feel things when I look at your drawings I've never felt before. And it has nothing to do with being in love with you. You need to fight it."
"I will. Let me wait until final selections are made Wednesday. I just don't want you to worry if I don't make it. I'll work something out." I kept my voice firm and steady, wanting her to believe I could take care of my own shit so she didn't always have to worry if I was a step behind her.
You'll bring her down. You'll break her heart.
Fuck you.
"I'm not worried, I'm pissed. There's a difference." She looked so damn cute with the pout on her lips and fire in her eyes, I had to laugh.
"Come on, Rocky Balboa. Let's go celebrate with some deep-dish."
"James, are you ready to leave for Key West next week?" she asked. "I mean, I know we bought the tickets already, but if you feel like you need to stay to work things out, I'll stay with you."
I knew she would. But Quinn needed to be with her friends and relax before she started a new chapter in her life. I wanted that time with her, away from the daily stresses, and didn't care what happened. I was going.
"No way are we staying home," I said firmly, tugging on my clothes. "I can't wait to see you in that red bikini. We're all set, and there's no reason to cancel."
Her brow smoothed out, and I knew I'd make it happen. No matter what it took.
Chapter Fifteen
QUINN
I CRAMMED INTO A BOOTH with the rest of my crew to celebrate our last day of classes at New Beginnings. Everyone was hopeful but supportive of one another, and I tried very hard not to give anything away, feeling a twinge of guilt at being picked. Brian didn't let on he'd made a decision, and he ordered a round of appetizers for the table, toasting to his incredible team and what we all brought to the residents.
I'd told my dad a few nights ago, and the gruffness of his voice told me how proud he was. It felt so good, finally getting what I wanted for so long. I just hated that James didn't get what he deserved.
My mind wandered as the table broke into a variety of gossip and general chatter. There was a strange ache in my gut that told me something was wrong. I couldn't pinpoint it, and had even tried to ignore it, but James seemed off. It wasn't about an outright lie. I thought I'd spot that immediately. It was more a general sense of discontent. Cassie would quote Shakespeare at this point, which would make me laugh. I wished I could go see her and talk it out, but she was in Key West testifying in the trial. I wouldn't bug her with my psychic babblings of things about to go wrong.
