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Her eyes opened. Pupils dilated, drugged, she whispered my name. "James."
"You're mine. Just mine. Forever."
I delved my fingers into her pussy, loving the way she clenched around me tight, as if refusing to let me go. I curled my index finger the way she liked it and went straight for her G-spot, which made her cry out and launch halfway off the bed.
"Say it," I commanded. The beast inside me roared for me to take her hard and make sure she never forgot, but I tried to keep it together. "Now."
"I'm yours. Forever. Oh, God, gonna come--"
"Come now," I whispered fiercely, biting her cherry-red nipple at the same time I flicked her clit with the pressure I knew got her every time. "Now, Quinn."
"Oh, God, yes!"
She came hard, shuddering under my grip, and I lifted my head from her breast to watch her face. Possession beat in waves inside me. Swearing she'd never be in another guy's arms, I surged forward and buried my dick deep inside her.
I threw back my head and shouted her name. Caught on the edge of losing my control, I thrust inside her over and over, just barely hanging on to my sanity as I felt her come again over my dick, bathing me in her arousal, falling into me as deep as I fell into her.
We collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, breathing hard, and she rolled over into the position she loved, tucking her head into my chest. My heart began to slow, and the elusive peace I always sought with art settled over me, making me realize everything was right as long as she was in my arms.
"Tough night?" she murmured huskily.
I laughed a bit. "You have no idea. Rich came into the place."
"Rich, your asshole friend from Key West?"
I laughed again. Quinn rarely cursed, but when she did it was pretty spectacular. "Yep. He was in town for some banquet and thought he'd stop in for a coffee to torture me."
She rolled over and caught my chin. Her dark eyes were worried. "He's scum, James," she said. "I'm sure he gave you a hard time and tried to make you feel like crap."
Quinn didn't know the half of it, but I wasn't about to tell her how his taunts affected me, even when I didn't want them to. Seemed I was always struggling with my worth as a man. But I was tired of being a fucking whiner. Poor little rich boy, the voice inside me mocked. Over a million dollars at my disposal whenever I got bored of playing the working stiff, while people out there struggled with jobs every day to support their families and had no blanket policy. I disgusted myself.
"Uh-oh, he did get to you." Quinn peered into my face. "He's pissed because you took off and won't finance his fun anymore."
I laughed. Damned if she wasn't right. My friends loved to have me around to throw the big-ass parties and always foot the drinking bill. "He left me a few quarters for a tip," I teased.
She kissed me. "He's a dickhead. I hope we don't see him when we go back to Key West."
Oh, yeah. We'd planned to go back to the Keys during Spring Break, meet all her girlfriends, and celebrate our year anniversary. Now? I had the big art show to worry about, and finding enough money to fly us over, stay at the Coves, and make sure my ex-friends didn't bother us. Great.
"Maybe we should drive," I threw out. "Could be an adventure."
She arched a brow. "Are you kidding? It would take too long. Listen, Mac already said she'd put us all up at the Coves if you're worried about money."
No. Fucking. Way. I wouldn't have her country-star friend, as sweet as she was, paying my bills along with my girlfriend's. For God's sake, last year, Quinn had been sleeping in my mansion. I'd find a way.
"I got it covered," I said smoothly. "I don't want you to worry about the trip. Okay?"
She frowned, but she finally smiled, flipped over, and started pressing kisses over my chest. My muscles clenched, and I became rock-hard again. I tangled my fingers in her long hair and watched her as she made her way to my erection, looked up my body, and gave me that look. The look that could shoot me straight to heaven in a single moment. The look that told me she was all mine.
"Quinn?"
"Shut up, baby. I think we've done enough talking."
She opened her mouth, took me in one long, smooth, hot swallow, and I closed my eyes in ecstasy.
Dear God, I loved this woman.
Chapter Seven
QUINN
I SAT IN BRIAN'S OFFICE, my legs crossed in my proper black pants, boots, and white lace top. I tried not to fidget as he spent long moments going over my file, which I had brought to show I was organized and prepared. It contained not only a resume, but letters of recommendation, my current GPA and student records, and testaments of all the people I'd worked with in the past, including referrals from the senior citizen home. I knew it was impressive, and a way to get to the next level beyond the newcomers. I just had to make sure I remained cool, competent, and in control. Those qualities were important to social work or counseling sessions, since emotions ran high and hot on a regular basis.
Brian looked up, pushed the folder away, and smiled. I tried not to jerk at the brilliance in that smile, recognizing he was basically a friendly, happy person who seemed quite satisfied with his life. I knew that was a stretch assumption when I didn't even know him, but I had instincts about people.
"I'm impressed," he said finally, leaning back in his chair.
"Good. That's the reaction I was seeking."
He laughed and tapped his pen casually against the edge of the desk. "Are you too good to be true? It's rare I see someone enthusiastic, with businesslike skills and capabilities this young. Why do you want to dedicate your life to being with a bunch of alcoholics? A pretty, vibrant woman like you?"
I didn't take offense. Just answered the question. "You know my father's story. But this isn't an attempt to make sense out of alcoholism or gain forgiveness for something I don't understand. I worked through a lot of my issues. Went to therapy. Al-Anon. I just have this thing inside me that's only truly satisfied when I'm helping others. Call it the nurturer personality, or maybe I'm an old soul who came back to right some past wrongs. I'm not sure. I just know who I am, and I accept it. Does that make sense?"
Something burned bright in his dark eyes, a gleam of understanding and something much more dangerous. His fingers clenched around the pen, and he gave a jerky nod. "Yeah, it does make sense. Listen, Quinn, I'm setting up a special program for people like you who I'm looking to hire full-time. Problem is, it's demanding. Three nights per week, and I know you also work at the nursing home and have classes. We'll be doing things I've seen in other rehabs which I'd like to implement at New Beginnings, and I'm only taking five people in. I want you to be one of them. Are you interested?"
"Yes." I never hesitated. I knew my schedule was tight, but I wanted this and felt it could be the turning point I needed. I had so much I wanted to be able to give to the residents. Not dreams of unicorns and rainbows and perfect days. I didn't believe in that anymore. Just hope and hard work.
"Good." He shuffled through his desk and handed me a thick packet. "Those are the forms to fill out and get back to me. We start this week."
I nodded. I'd make it work. I couldn't wait to tell James, and though it would be less time we spent together, I knew he'd be supportive. I rose from the chair.
"Quinn?"
"Yes?"
"Are you free for lunch?"
I blinked. Stared. Was he asking me on a date? Or was this business? I felt myself blushing. "I'm, well, I mean, I have to tell you, I--"
"Have a boyfriend?" he interrupted.
I bit my lip, but he didn't look upset, just thoughtful.
"Yes."
"Understood. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just enjoy speaking with you and wanted to pick your brain a bit."
"Oh." So, it was more about colleague-to-colleague? That, I could handle. He didn't give off any of those weird vibes like he wanted to use his higher position to get favors, or dangle this program in the hopes of dating me. He was passionate abou
t his work, and his personality seemed to fit mine. One worker bee easily recognized the other. "I wouldn't mind grabbing a burger and discussing some things." That felt safe.
"Perfect. We can go right down the street." He grabbed his coat and ushered me out the door, heading toward Rose's Pub, which was known for their gourmet fries. "How's school?"
I wrinkled my nose and tightened my scarf around my neck. Our steps easily matched each other's. "Fine. The last semester is the easiest. I just have to finish up a few projects and keep my A's intact."
"Ah, an overachiever. I'm the same way. I remember when I was in the University of Florida, and I got food poisoning a day before my final exam. The professor was hardcore, so I showed up with practically an IV in my arm and took it."
"Got an A?"
"Of course."
I laughed. We got settled into a booth, ordered two burgers, fries, and Cokes, and settled in. "What made you want to get into counseling?" I asked curiously.
"Same as you. My mom was an alcoholic. I was the oldest, so I took care of her. Co-dependence issues galore. Got fed up, got educated, and gave her tough love. She was not one of the lucky ones, though. Refused to do rehab, so I ended up losing her."
My heart hurt for him. "I'm so sorry."
He gave a half-smile without humor and shrugged. "It's okay. Part of who I am was because of the experience. I was focused on saving everyone else for a while, but now I've balanced out a bit. I just want to offer the best programs I can and let the individual decide if they want to work it. Make sense?"
He gazed directly into my eyes, and I felt my skin tingle. A shared emotion passed between us, as if we recognized ourselves in each other. So strange. Though he was older, I was already an ancient soul, so we were almost evenly matched. I broke the gaze and sipped my Coke. "Makes perfect sense. Exhausting sometimes, isn't it?"
"Yes. But what's the alternative? Mediocrity?"
