Still Crushing on His Best Friend’s Older Sister: Cates Brothers # 2

by Kilraine, Lee

  “It sounds impossible.”

  “Here’s the thing, Delaney. You’ve been back in Climax for over a month hanging out in those baggy sweats. All I knew was you were hurt in an accident. So, my imagination got busy.”

  “What do you mean by busy?”

  “I’ve made love to you without any breasts, with one breast, with burns and scars on your breasts, then with burns all over your body. Hell, I’ve even made love to you maneuvering around your external pacemaker.”

  “My what?” Delaney sputtered.

  “Your broken pelvis was tricky. Don’t get me wrong. I brought you to orgasm, and let’s just say you were amazing, but I had to think and go outside the box on one.”

  “Broken pelvis? Quinn!”

  “Your open heart surgery was a challenge. You were hooked up to an EKG. We had to make sure your heart rate didn’t spike. We took that ride slow, but damn if that didn’t sweeten the payoff. Drove us both crazy that time.”

  “Quinn.” Delaney reached out, touching his face.

  “What?”

  “Shut up and make love to me.”

  “What? You mean right now? On the spur of the moment?”

  She grabbed his head and kissed him.

  Delaney’s soft lips moving against his had been a dream for so long . . . wait . . . maybe he was dreaming again. He released Delaney’s ass long enough to give her a light pinch.

  “Ow! Dammit, Quinn. This isn’t a dream.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Quinn’s breathing was ragged. “Damn, Delaney, are you sure? Look, it’s been a crazy week for you. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe we should wait and let everything sink in before making a rash decision. I don’t want you to regret being with me. Not for a second.”

  “A rash decision? You’ve been water torture since the day you brought me home. You’ve teased me constantly. You’ve been touching me, looking at me, whispering to me for weeks now. Why are you looking at me like that? Do I need to put it in your terms? Let’s say, all this time I’ve been the coach and you’ve been pacing the sidelines burning up to get in the game. It’s time to take the field. You’re still looking at me funny. Okay, you’ve been entrenched and surrounding the enemy in battle for weeks. It’s time to storm the castle.”

  When he still hesitated, she smoothed her hand along his jaw and looked carefully into his eyes as if trying to gauge his thoughts.

  “Unless you need more time. I’d understand.”

  “Hell no, but I don’t want to take advantage of you in a weak moment.”

  “Hey, we had a truce for today. Remember? I don’t need a commitment, Quinn. Tonight I just need you.”

  Quinn stared directly into Delaney’s eyes trying to read her emotions. He took a deep breath. And another. “Okay. Okay. Let me go get us some protection. Hold that thought. I mean, you can change your mind if you want. It might kill me, but I’d get it.”

  “Quinn, you had me at pacemaker. Now, hurry up!”

  23

  Tonight, Delaney was surrendering. Surrendering to both Quinn and her own desire. For tonight, she would . . . lock rational thought out in the hallway with the dog. Lose herself in the glow of Quinn’s electric blue eyes. Run her hands over his strong, defined arms, biceps, and shoulders. Revel in the touch of his warm fingers touching her body. She shivered at the thought as he came through the doorway.

  Watching Quinn walk toward her in his black boxer briefs qualified as aerobic exercise, if her elevated heart rate was anything to go by. He was a walking advertisement for his gym. Rock-solid muscles everywhere—sleek, firm, and well cut. But it was the heat in his gaze that had her swallowing hard and her heartbeat skipping. This was a gorgeous man.

  He was solid. She could lean into his strength and oh, how she needed to lean. She wanted to let go for this one night. He had a magic way of making her scarred, broken body feel sexy and desirable. Wanted. He was one of the few people who didn’t treat her with kid gloves because of her injury. And she loved that. Her only doubt about tonight was what in the world did he see in her?

  Quinn must have seen something in her face as he approached. He tossed the box of condoms on the nightstand as he sat on the bed next to her hips. “You can still change your mind, but you can’t start doubting yourself. That’s against the rules tonight.”

  Delaney looked into his eyes. “I’m not changing my mind. But . . . but, I would like the light off.”

  “Okay.” He clicked off the light and joined their hands as the room plunged into darkness. “It’s dark. I’ve been entrenched outside your castle for a month now.” Stretching out his body next to hers on the bed, he started with her captive hand, kissing his way up the soft pulse points at the base of her thumb, the delicate veins of her wrist, the inner bend of her elbow, the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her neck. “I’m swimming across your alligator-infested moat.”

  Delaney’s arm was on fire.

  Quinn leaned her up to whisk her tank top off. He lay back down next to her, running one hand down her neck, sliding it across her collarbone, along her outer rib cage . . . a feather touch on the tender underside of her left breast. He covered her breast with his hand as he moved his lips along a similar path down the other side of her body, kissing, licking, and sucking along her neck, collarbone, rib cage, and then finally her breast. His attentions were breathtakingly thorough, until he finally sucked her nipple in his mouth, reaching some perfect combination of exquisite pleasure with just a nip of pain before releasing her.

  “I’ve climbed your ramparts.”

  “Mmm. Aaahh,” was all she could form. She touched and caressed her hands over his back and then down his shoulders to his biceps and forearms. God, what was it with her and his forearms? She grabbed his face and pulled him up for a kiss, slipping her tongue between his lips, seeking out his, making him moan.

  He broke away from her lips and began his assault down across the quivering muscles of her abdomen. He quickly eased off her black lace panties, separated her legs, and kissed her and kept on kissing her until she screamed. “I’ve scaled your walls. I’ve entered your keep. Do you yield?”

  “Quinn!”

  He climbed back up her body to look into her face, and he kissed her with a wild passion until they both needed air.

  “Quinn. Quinlan.” Her breath panted in and out like she’d just sprinted a lap. “You’ve been so busy storming the castle, you can’t see I’ve lowered the drawbridge. Come in. Now, dammit.”

  He flashed his sexy smile and dimple at her as his fingers squeezed one of her nipples. “Relax, Delaney. I’m the victor. You’re the spoils. I’m going to pillage at my own damn pace.” He leaned down and sucked her other nipple, then moved to lick the sensitive outer side of her breast.

  Quinn surely knew what he was doing in bed, but she didn’t think she could wait much longer. She knew a little about battle tactics too. Reaching her hands down, struggling a little to get his briefs off until he lifted his hips and helped, she took a firm hold of his hard penis, instantly changing the advantage on the battlefield.

  Quinn’s whole body tensed. “Oh God, yes. Touch me, Delaney.”

  Touch him she did. She stroked, and slid, and caressed her hand along the hard, satiny length of him. Now she had him panting and moaning. When sweat started beading on his forehead, he finally said, “Okay, I yield.”

  “You bet your ass you do.” Delaney reached over and grabbed a condom out of the box. Using her teeth, she ripped open the foil packet.

  Quinn’s eyes burned into hers as he watched her. “You are so beautiful.” He reached down to help put the condom on, but she brushed his hand away and rolled it down his hardness, squeezing as she went. He moaned. “You’re killing me.”

  “Now, Quinn. Please, now.” Delaney wrapped her good leg around Quinn’s hips and grabbed his tight ass with both hands.

  Quinn turned Delaney’s face to look into his. They stared at each other on the edge of a breath, and time stoppe
d. He entered her in one sweet thrust, their gazes still connected until their eyes drifted closed. He rested his forehead on hers as they moved together.

  Delaney heard him whisper, “Now, Laney. Let go.” His deep voice was enough to send her over the edge. Her breath caught. Her body shook. She grabbed him by the hair and whispered, “You are a beautiful man,” against his lips. His strong body shuddered against her before his weight relaxed onto her. She shivered as he trailed kisses along her jawline up to her ear, where he whispered, “You can come in my bubble anytime.”

  “Oh, bite me.”

  Which he did more than once during the night.

  24

  Delaney lay in bed the next morning wishing she could turn the clock back eight hours. Maybe even set the last eight hours on a constant loop. She sighed, running her hand over the cool sheets next to her. Hiding in Quinn’s arms wasn’t any better than bingeing on PBS and cabernet. Okay, it was way better, but she needed to stop it anyway. Blinking her eyes open, she pushed back the sweet memories from last night like warm blankets on a bitterly cold morning.

  She normally hated waking up. In part, because good solid sleep had been her Holy Grail over the last few months. But mostly, she dreaded the moment of moving from sleep to wakefulness. When morning snuck in on tiptoe feet, there was a second when her body felt whole and healthy. Normal. She was pre-explosion Delaney, a nurse and an athlete. One precious, cruel sliver, that instant of forgetting. She loved that moment as much as she reviled the one that crashed into it like a speeding train.

  Her first movement—no matter what part of her body she moved first, her arm, head, or her hips—was enough to shatter the illusion and send reality hurtling in like a meteor. Her doctor had said it was a combination of kinesthetic memory and phantom sensations. In the early months, she used to look under the covers, hoping she’d dreamed the whole thing. As time went on, she’d learned to suck the moment up quick like foul-tasting medicine.

  This morning, the moment barely registered because she woke up feeling pretty damn good. Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see it was eight a.m. What do you know, Quinn was right about the things you could do to help you sleep at night. Darn if she hadn’t had her first good night of sleep in six months. Sitting up in bed, she grabbed her prosthesis off the floor and slid on the gel liner and then her foot. After a quick shower, she dressed in sweats and headed out into the kitchen to find a cup of coffee and Quinn.

  The scent of fresh-brewed coffee led her into the kitchen. Quinn sat staring in deep concentration at a large whiteboard propped on an easel next to his kitchen table. He flipped the board over before looking over and releasing a slow, sexy smile on her that sent a delicious flush through her whole body. Who needed coffee after that? She angled toward the coffeepot anyway to cover her awkwardness.

  “Morning.” He moved next to her, handing her a coffee mug from one of the overhead cabinets.

  Her attention fixated on the graceful play of muscles in his biceps and forearms until she pulled her gaze away to pour coffee into her mug. She raised an eyebrow at him when he dumped a teaspoon of sugar in her mug. “How do you know I like sugar in my coffee?”

  There went that lopsided grin again. “I’m a pretty observant guy, being a cop and all. I like to pay attention to the details. I find it pays off.”

  “It sure paid off for me last night.” Every cell in her body perked up at his knowing smile. She took her coffee over to sit at the table, putting space between them. Yesterday’s truce had expired, so attacking Quinn up against the kitchen counter wasn’t an option. She moved her focus to the whiteboard because if she looked at Quinn one more second she might jump him. “What are you working on?”

  “Nothing.” He moseyed over to stand in front of the board, blocking her view. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Great.” She took a sip of coffee, keeping her gaze on his face. “Your nothing sure looks like something.”

  “It’s no big deal. I’ll show you, but I want you to know I made this for me—not you. Okay?” When she nodded, he flipped the whiteboard back around and took a cautious step back, his hands tucked into the pockets of his worn jeans.

  “Huh.” Delaney squinted at the board, tilting her head left and then right. “You coaching football?”

  “Not this year. No, this is your offensive game plan.” He scratched his neck, looking a bit like there was too much starch in his underwear. “Look, I was an athlete all through high school and college. Sometimes when I’m thinking things through, it helps me to diagram them.”

  “My offensive game plan?” Delaney’s gaze moved from the whiteboard’s mess of x’s and o’s, to Quinn, and back again. Squinting at the board. It looked like some complicated calculus problem. “So, I’m playing football?”

  “No. But the way I see it, you’re at halftime in the game of your life. You think you’re trailing, twenty-four to nothing.” He pointed at her, his energy a palpable thing. “You’re not.”

  Still not following, she played along anyway because Coach Quinn was damn sexy. “I’m not?”

  “Hell no. Right now, you’re locked in a tie. And how you start the second half might decide the game.”

  Giving Quinn the benefit of the doubt, she closed one eye and tilted her head, but the board didn’t make any more sense to her. “Sorry, I’m not getting it.”

  “I got to thinking about your rehab this morning, and to be honest, it’s pretty intimidating. I mean, I think I get why you ended up shutting the world out. It’s damn scary, what you had to face.”

  Delaney swallowed hard. He had her full attention now.

  “And you’re strong and stubborn, so you tried to face it alone. And damn, Delaney, you made it pretty far on your own before you fumbled the ball. But because you’re strong and stubborn, you suck at asking for help. Luckily, Greer did an end run around that, and we’re part of your team now.”

  “Part of my team?” She didn’t remember discussing a team.

  “Uh-huh.” He picked up a marker and traced over a circle in the center of the board. “This is you. You’re the quarterback. And I’ve broken your offensive plan into zones. See these?”

  “I see them, but it’s like reading a foreign language.”

  “You’ve got coaches—those are your doctors. Teammates—Greer, me, my family, friends. Not to brag, or anything, but I’m your star running back. When you need me, I’ll be there to catch you. I can go long too.”

  “You proved that last night.”

  Quinn laughed but stayed focused on the game plan in front of him. He drew more x’s on the board and used arcing lines to show how they came into play. “We’ve got your doctor, physical therapist, prosthetic and orthotic doctor, and your psychiatrist.”

  “I don’t have a psychiatrist.”

  “Not yet.”

  Her spine snapped straight and jaw tilted up in all her reflexive stubborn glory. She opened her mouth to tell him where he could stuff that psychiatrist—

  “Now, hear me out, Laney.” He sat in front of her, pulling his chair close until she ended up between the V of his legs. Real close, so she could see the yellow specks in his blue eyes. “That nightmare is hell on you—you admit that, right?”

  She didn’t nod or anything. Just kept staring at him.

  “And you said yourself it’s got something to do with the explosion. You’re sleep deprived, which is a method of torture, by the way.” He lifted his hand, stroking her jaw until it relaxed. “Okay, how about this. What if we don’t make the psychiatrist a starting player? They could be on special teams, and you’ll call them into play when you’re ready. Maybe just a quick trick play on your signal. Will that work?”

  “I have no idea.” The optimism and excitement in his eyes scared her. Was this just another person she was going to let down? “Quinn—”

  He leaned forward and kissed her. A slow, mind-blowing kiss probably designed to distract her. One of his trick plays. It worked. Pulling back, he
smoothed a strand of hair from her face. “Hey, I watched you run in high school. I know what a fierce competitor you are. You can’t give up now just because it’s third and long.”

  “If I knew what third and long was, I might get your point.”

  Quinn pushed his chair back and stood, moving to stare out the bay window before turning back around. “In your second to last cross-country race in high school, you were behind in the 5K with a mile to go. The two runners ahead of you were top in their counties and no one predicted you to win. You dipped your head, and everyone was sure that was the moment you gave up. I almost couldn’t watch, but I couldn’t turn away either. Hell, you didn’t give up. You dipped your head and dug deep, and somehow found this burst of speed. You blew past the two fastest runners in the state and won.”

  The memory hit Delaney like a gust of wind and forced her back against her chair.

  “Third and long is the same as trailing with a mile to go.”

  “Got it.” She nodded and reached into her pocket for the list of her doctors they’d made last night at the VFW. The paper crackled as she unfolded it and placed it on the table next to her mug. “Okay. So today, I’m tackling these guys. Anything else, coach?”

  “Since you ask, yes.” He moved back to his board. “When I drew this out, I noticed you’re missing a chunk of your offense. Pain management.”

  “No, I’ve got plenty of pain pills.” She took a sip of coffee, ready to move on.

  Quinn nodded his head. “I know you do. Full bottles of them. I saw them when I packed you up in D.C., and I saw them again last night. You have to actually take them for them to work.”

  “How do you know I don’t?”

  “Your memory’s probably a little foggy, but you told me the night I brought you home. You said you’d stopped taking them weeks before. It’s probably not a coincidence that you stopped trying right around when you stopped your pain meds.”

  “Quinn, you don’t understand.” She shook her head and rubbed at the pain spiking in her temple. “When I took the pain meds, I couldn’t think. My brain only worked in slow motion. It was like having to cut my way through a jungle of kudzu vines and my head floated ten feet above my body. Nothing felt connected or real. Then the nightmares started. And then things got scary. . . .”