Page 92 of Key of Kink

He leaned back, folding his arms. “You say ‘just music’ as if it isn’t the thing that literally makes people cry.” Then he picked up his fork and finished his pasta. “So,” he said after swallowing. “You’re a musical arranger, singer, and shadow-dwelling rule enthusiast.”

I chuckled. “That is not a job title.”

“Oh, but it should be.”

Then it hit me. Quinn wasn’t impressed in a fanboy way, but because it fit his view of me, as though I finally made sense.

“Do the rest of Rough Harmony know you haunt dungeons?” he asked with a smile.

“They know I have a private life, but yeah, it isn’t exactly a secret.” I snickered. “When we’d found the first six guys, I arranged a night out—in a leather bar.”

He laughed. “Yeah, definitely not a secret. And they’re cool with it?”

“They’re my friends.” Then I reconsidered. “Except they’re more than that. We’re becoming a family.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s good.” Then he stood, reaching for the empty plates. “I’ll do the washing up.”

“You don’t have to—” I began.

“I know.” His gaze met mine. “I want to.”

Yeah, that was when I knew I was in trouble.

I liked having Quinn here.

Quinn

I stood at the sink, attacking the plates with a washing-up brush. Max filled the kettle to make tea, which involved leaning across me, so close that the smell of him stirred a memory. Heat crawled over my skin when I recalled swallowing him to the root, moaning when he filled me to the hilt…

I didn’t want to stop thinking about it, but Max seemed to have retreated, morphing into Obsidian Max, the one who kept his feelings under wraps.

I liked what he hid under there way too much.

“You don’t sound like you’re from London,” he said in a casual tone.

I blinked. “Is that an insult?”

Max arched his brows. “I didn’t mean it as one.” He studied me for a moment. “Your vowels give you away.”

I huffed. “They do not.” Liar. I sighed. “I’ve worked very hard on neutralising them.”

So we’re not going to talk about you fucking my brains out. Message received.

He snickered. “I hate to tell you this, but you haven’t succeeded.”

“Traitor,” I muttered, although I couldn’t help smiling.

Max dropped tea bags into mugs. “To be honest, there’s only a faint trace. The Midlands, right?”

“Born and bred.”

His lips twitched. “That explains it.”

I narrowed my gaze. “Explains what?”

“The stubbornness.”

I snorted. “That’s not regional. That’s just me.”