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Frantic, I zip back into my room and, sick with nerves and guilt, peek under the bed. “It’s not what you think,” I whisper, not one hundred percent my dad won’t come back up when he finishes his call.
Only the look in Quinn’s eyes as he climbs out warns that I have bigger problems on my hands. Because this is a Quinn I have never seen before. Tension pulses off him as rage burns in his eyes. His jaw is set, and when he reaches full height, it feels like his body has somehow expanded to take up the entire room.
“Quinn, there’s no—”
“Call him,” he grits out from between clenched teeth, his voice so deadly low I’m not sure I heard him right. “Get your phone, George, and call that fucker right now and end it. Over. No last trip for fucking coffee or lunch to explain. Done.”
I’m stunned, can’t even blink.
“You’re mine, George. We didn’t talk exclusivity, butyou are mine. I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life for you. And maybe it makes me an asshole. Maybe it makes me a caveman. But I’m not sharing. Those other fuckers had their chance. They missed it.”
This isn’t the easygoing guy with an endless stream of player lines and relentless flirtation who’s been all over me for the better part of this year. This is someone wholly different. Someone aggressively possessive… of me.
And while I’m a little ashamed of the reaction I’m having to that borderline unreasonable look in his eyes, I have to stop this.
“Quinn, there isn’t anyone else.”
“That’s right there isn’t,” he growls, backing me to the wall, pinning my hips there with his hands. “I wasn’t going to fuck you here… but if I don’t get inside you, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Heat spills though my center as he opens my fly and roughly shoves my jeans and panties down. I free one leg and kick out of the other. Because I need this too. Seeing what even the thought of losing me does to him— I can’t stand it.
I reach for his belt, barely getting the tongue free before he’s brushing my hands aside to do it faster.
His breath is ragged, but his eyes never leave mine. Not once. Not when he thinks there’s another man, not when he takes off my pants, not when he undoes his. Not when he’s groaning as he pushes inside.
Not until he’s buried so deep I can barely breathe from how full of him I am. And then his eyes close and he presses his forehead to mine.
“For the first time in as long as I can remember, I don’t feel like something’s missing.”
I slip my fingers into the hair at the back of his head, holding him to me with one hand as I cup the chiseled lines of his jaw with my other.
“There is no banker. I made him up because my brothers caught me getting ready for a date withyou… and… I didn’t want them getting weird because of who you are.” I need to tell him the truth, but not tonight. Not after what just happened.
This time when his eyes meet mine, it’s Quinn,my Quinnlooking back at me. “No banker?”
“No anyone,” I say softly.
“You’re mine,” he says, the words filled with so much emotion, they touch me in places no one else can reach.
“I’m yours.”
The intensity in his eyes grows and his cock pulses inside me. “Say it again,” he murmurs against my lips as he begins to move, his heavy cock dragging slowly back, and then pushing deep again, even slower.
“I’m yours.” Another measured piston and he’s back at that place that strains my body and steals my breath, threatening to send me over the edge with a single nudge. “Only yours.” Another. Harder. “I don’t want anyone like I want you.” Harder still. The pressure, it’s too much and yet I’m sliding my knee higher at his side, tipping my hips into his thrust. My body begging for more. “I’venever… wanted anyone… the way I want you.”
His breath breaks and the desperation in how he holds me makes my heart ache, makes me seek out his mouth and kiss him with everything I have.
“Sure your brothers are gone?” he asks, doing something with his hips that leaves me barely able to nod. “Good. Because I’m about to make you come so hard, they’ll hear you all the way down at the lake.”
Chapter 22
Quinn
No way we should have lost to Nashville. We’re lined up on the tarmac waiting to board the plane, the usual smack talk at a minimum as everyone replays the shit that went wrong in their heads.
Too many fuck-ups. The lines were out of sync. Add to that the hit Baxter took in the third, and everyone’s head is in a bad place.
I want to talk to George.
