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How many times h
ad I dreamed of him saying just that to me? How many times had I daydreamed of the wind blowing my hair while I pressed my face into his back and held on tightly to his waist?
Now …
Turning away from him and the others, I flipped him off and went straight to my room.
Now I just wanted him to go away. I had too much going on to take a timeout and play whatever game it was he wanted to play right then. That was all it was with him.
It was one I couldn’t afford to play with him again.
Chapter 18
Colt
An alarm going off woke me from a restless sleep. Groaning, I rolled over and lifted my head, expecting to see Kelli’s phone going off across the room. A scan of the room told me that her phone was still plugged into her charger, but it was silent.
As the noise continued, she shifted beside me, causing the sheet to fall to her waist. I had a nice view of her amazing tits, her flat abdomen, and the unique birthmark just under her navel. She was sound asleep, having had no trouble drifting off after our angry fuck session the night before.
My body started to harden just thinking of the wild hate sex we had burned the sheets up with. I was still pissed at her, but fuck, I couldn’t stop wanting her, no matter what. Jesus Christ, she had let Quinnie start stripping at that damn club she seemed to enjoy working at.
My sweet, innocent, little Quinn who deserved so much more than to have to take her clothes off for a bunch of horny losers just to earn money.
Anger started to burn in my gut all over again, and I jerked into a sitting position then stood up. That damn alarm was still going off, and now that I was wide awake, I could tell it was coming from Quinn’s room.
Grabbing a pair of basketball shorts, I pulled them on as I headed for the other bedroom.
From the way the sun was starting to shine through the blinds, I figured she had turned the alarm on so she could get to work at Aggie’s. That it was still blaring relentlessly wasn’t like my friend. She was normally up as soon as it went off and ready to start her day.
Her door was ajar, but I still tapped on it to let her know I was coming in. “Quinn?”
Not getting an answer, I moved into the room. Her bed was rumpled, like she had left it in a hurry. The noisy phone was still making that shrill-ass noise on her nightstand. Crossing to it, I lifted it and turned the alarm off.
The bathroom door was cracked open, so I headed for the door, figuring she was just in there, getting ready. I was almost to the door when I heard a groan, followed by the distinct sound of vomit hitting a porcelain bowl.
I didn’t even stop to think about what I was doing before I was running into the bathroom to check on her. The thought of Quinn sick or hurt fucked with my head. I needed to take care of her, make sure she was okay.
I had gotten shit from the first day I had claimed her as my best friend, but I couldn’t have cared less. They could call me a pussy, and it wouldn’t have mattered, as long as they left her alone. If they didn’t, then they would bring down the fires of hell on their heads.
I could tell her anything, and I knew she would take it to her grave. She didn’t judge me, didn’t condemn me. She loved me wholeheartedly, and I loved her right back with everything inside of me.
If I could have fallen in love with her, that would have made my life a hell of a lot easier. Probably for both of us. We could have gotten married, had a few kids, and I could have spent the rest of my life giving her the world, as she deserved. But while I felt like she was the other half of my soul, I didn’t feel anything more for her than an intense affection. It was stronger than what I felt for Raven, but not in the least sexual. She brought me peace when the world was at its darkest.
In the bathroom, I found Quinn on her knees in front of the toilet, her hands holding either side as she continued to vomit into the bowl. She was dressed in her old sleep shirt, and her hair was pulled up into a messy knot that I knew she liked to sleep in. My concern only mounted as I watched her start to dry heave.
I crossed to the sink and pulled out a washcloth from one of the drawers. Dampening it with cold water, I crouched beside her and placed the cloth on the back of her neck.
She jerked as if I had stabbed her and snapped her head up. Her face was pale as death, her eyes bloodshot, and sweat poured down her face, mixing with her tears.
Taking the cloth from her neck, I used it to wipe her face, but the tears only fell faster. Her body was shaking with the effort to remain upright, and I wrapped an arm around her waist, taking her slight weight. She sagged against me, her forehead pressing to my bare chest.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head, but didn’t speak.
For several long minutes, we stayed like that. I stroked the strands that had fallen from her knot away from her face, offering her the only comfort I could.
She shifted, and I thought it was to get up, so I started to help her. Instead, she groaned like she was dying and buried her head in the toilet again. There was nothing left for her to throw up, so I got her a glass of water from the sink. It took her a little while, but she was finally able to take a few sips to rinse out her mouth.
