“I’ll never get tired of exploring you,” I murmur, letting my brush trail over her shoulder to her back as I walk around her. “You’re stunning, Sienna.”
She sighs as I unfasten her shorts and let them pool around her feet and continue to paint her skin, drawing patterns on her ass cheeks, her back, down her legs.
I’m careful to leave her core clean.
“Do I get to paint you now?” she asks breathlessly, making me grin.
“You can do whatever you want, sweetheart.”
Rather than turn to me and start brushing paint over me, she drops her brush to the floor, turns to me, and launches herself into my arms.
I don’t care that she’s getting paint all over me, I only care that she’s pressed against me, and I’m going to be inside her in about fourteen seconds.
Her fingers dive into my hair, fisting and releasing, brushing through the strands as she digs her fingernails into my scalp, sending me straight to heaven.
Before Sienna, I wouldn’t have called myself an affectionate man.
Now I can’t get enough of her touch.
“Want you,” she murmurs against my lips. “Bedroom.”
“Too far,” I breathe and moan when she sinks her teeth into my earlobe and tugs. “Fucking hell, you make me crazy.”
“Back at you, ace.”
Chapter Twelve
~Sienna~
Holy Christ.
Maybe this wasn’t a great idea because now I don’t know how I’ll ever come into my studio and not think about Quinn’s hands all over my body.
He’s making me crazy, in the best way possible.
And who knew that brush bristles felt like that? I didn’t. And now I do.
And holy hell.
“Stop thinking,” he mumbles against my neck just before he nibbles his way down to the top of my shoulder. “Just feel.”
“Oh, I’m feeling,” I reply. I can’t resist plunging my fingers into his hair again. It’s dark and thick, longer on top than the sides, and it feels like silk between my fingers.
He pins me against the wall, my hands above my head and pressed to the wall above, as his mouth takes a journey down my neck, careful to avoid where he’s painted me. I try to hitch my leg over his hip, but he won’t stop moving.
“Just enjoy, sweetheart,” he says.
“I’m squirmy.” There’s no other way to describe it. I can’t stay still. I need to move against him.
Suddenly, he lifts me into his arms and carries me out of the bright studio to my kitchen, sets me on the island, spreads my legs, and squats before me.
“Whoa, change of venue,” I mutter, getting my balance.
“I don’t want you on the floor.”
I frown down at him. “I’m already dirty.”
“I don’t want you on the floor,” he repeats, voice firm. His hands are gliding up the inside of my thighs until his thumbs touch over my lips. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?”
“You make me feel beautiful.”
“You are,” he replies, leaning in to press a kiss where my thigh meets my center. “You have a freckle right here.”
“No, I don’t.”
He chuckles. “I’m looking at it, baby. You do. But not many anywhere else.”
“Redhead without freckles,” I agree and suck in a breath when he skims the tip of his tongue over the top of my shaved pussy. “God, Quinn.”
“Mm, love hearing my name like that.”
I lean back on my elbows, unwilling to take my eyes off what he’s doing down south. His hands are gentle. His mouth tender.
And my body is on fire.
He props my leg over his shoulder, and dives in for a long, deep kiss, and I’m lost under his spell. My back arches, and I’m pretty sure my whole body just exploded into a million twinkling lights.
When the world rushes back to me, Quinn is standing, unzipping his shorts, rolling on a condom, and pressing into me.
“Like a bloody vise,” he growls, his jaw clenched shut. He buries his face in my neck and rides me like his life depends on it.
But he’s not fucking me. No, we’ve done that before, and this isn’t the same. It’s not as hurried, as trivial.
Quinn is moving like he can’t not claim me, and it’s the most intoxicating sex I’ve ever had.
It’s almost loving.
And God, I hope that’s not just wishful thinking on my part, because I’ve fallen for this man, hook, line and sinker.
He links his fingers through mine and kisses my hand, then tucks our hands next to our bodies as he leans in, presses his lips to my mouth, and loses control spectacularly.
“You should stay with me,” Quinn says an hour later, after we’ve cleaned ourselves and the studio, and we’re back to painting.
“Where?”
“At my condo,” he says simply, loading his brush and watching me carefully as I fill in a building with dark gray.
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to be working in Manhattan a lot over the next two weeks, and it’ll be more convenient for you if you’re nearby.”
“Hmm.” I nibble on the end of my brush, checking out my work, and thinking about Quinn’s offer. Do I want to stay with him?
Duh. Of course I do. I love sleeping next to him, I love being with him.
“I don’t know if that’s a great idea.”
“Why?” he asks calmly. It’s like we’re talking about where we want to eat for dinner, or the weather.
“Because we’re working together, and if one of the law clerks found out—”
“Unless you tell them, they’re not going to find out,” he says. “I don’t make it a habit to tell my employees about my personal relationships.”
“Good point,” I concede and clean my brush off. “I guess I’d better pack a bag.”
His head whips over in surprise. “Really?”
“You were expecting more of a fight?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I can give you one.”
“No.” He sets his brush down and takes my hand, practically pulling me down to my bedroom. “No, let’s pack you a bag.”
“Listen up,” Quinn says Monday morning. We’re in the larger of the conference rooms, with all the boxes lined against one wall, and the opposite wall empty for boxes as we finish going through them. “Sienna Hendricks is the opposing counsel on this case, and the owner of all these files. We have the same goal in mind: to find the truth. This case is different because it’s a hundred years old. It’s not a matter of a Google search, or looking through a computer for the files. We have to look by hand.
“Time is ticking, and that’s why we’ve decided to move the operation here. With your help, this should go much faster. But Sienna’s in charge.”
“She’s not a partner here,” one of the clerks points out, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not comfortable taking orders from opposing counsel.”
“Then you’re welcome to go,” Quinn says, pointing to the door.
“Great, I’ll go back to my office.”
“No, get your shit and leave. You’re fired. This isn’t up for discussion.”
The man stares at Quinn in shock, then shrugs and stomps out.
“Does anyone else have an issue with this?” Quinn asks. The four remaining clerks all shake their heads.
“Tim’s an idiot,” a blond woman says, shaking her head. “This is fascinating.”
“I agree,” I reply with a smile and smooth my hands down my red suit. “My rules are actually very simple. I don’t want you working on this if I’m not here. Like Quinn said, these are my family’s personal files. However, I will be here all day, every day. This is my only priority until we wrap up the case.”
“I’ll be in and out,” Quinn says, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s staring at me from across the room, and I swear, the sexual chemistry is so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
How can the others not
feel it?
“But I’m just down the hall if there are questions. And with that, I’ll leave you to it.”
He nods and leaves, and I look around the room, grateful to have the help.
“Do you mind introducing yourselves?”
“I’m Christy,” the blonde says with a smile. “This is Peter, Matt, and Caden.”
“Great. Call me Sienna. We’ve already found these.” I hold the receipts up for them to see. “There should be two more, but they could be anywhere in these boxes. I assume they’ll look the same, but we don’t know that for sure either.”
“Needle in a haystack,” Matt says with a sigh.
“Exactly,” I agree. “I’ve also been pulling out marriage certificates, death certificates, things like that so they’re not mixed in with the other nonsense. If you run across anything like that, I’d appreciate it if you just set it aside.
“But the receipts are the most important thing.”
The door opens, and Quinn’s assistant, Kami, walks in with a large pot of coffee.
“Quinn asked me to bring this in,” she says with a smile. “There are mugs, sugar, creamer over here.”
“Thanks, Kami,” I reply with a grin. “Let’s get to it.”
An hour later, I glance up to see Caden pull a stack of papers out of a box, set them aside, and pull another stack out, then put it all back in the box and take it to the finished pile.
“You didn’t look through those,” I say.
“Yes, I did. They’re just invoices from 1943.”
“I’m sorry, maybe I didn’t make myself clear. You have to look between every paper. The files aren’t organized well.”
“Are you kidding?” Caden asks.
“Unfortunately, no. I know, pain in the ass, but that’s why we need your help.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, retrieves the box, and starts combing through it, one paper at a time.
Kami returns with a tray of fruit and what looks like packets of trail mix.
“More snacks,” she says with a grin, sets them on the wet bar, and sees herself out.
“We never get snacks around here,” Peter says.
“Special guest,” Christy reminds him, pointing at me, and I feel my cheeks flush. “Maybe Quinn has a crush on you.”
“Or maybe he’s just being kind to a colleague,” I reply with a laugh. “And are you guys saying that you work under harsh conditions most of the time?”
“No,” Christy says immediately. “I’ve worked for far worse than this. They just don’t usually offer us refreshments.”
“But I’ll take them,” Caden adds as he pops a handful of trail mix in his mouth and munches loudly.
The rest of the morning is smooth and quiet, if uneventful. We don’t find any more receipts of payment for the borrowed money.
“You guys should go get some lunch,” I say at last and rub my neck. “Give your eyes a break.”
“Good idea,” Peter says. “Want us to bring you back anything?”
“No, but thanks for asking.”
The four of them leave, and five minutes later, Quinn walks in carrying a bag and wearing a smile.
He locks the door behind him, making me giggle.
“Alone at last,” he says. He sets the food on the table, then sweeps me up in a long, wet kiss. “How was your morning?”
“Fine. Uneventful. But we’ve already made a lot more headway than you and I do alone.”
“That’s the goal,” he says with a nod.
“Also, you sent me trail mix.”
“You need protein,” he replies with a stern face. “I don’t want you to go hungry.”
“Christy thinks you might have a crush on me.”
“Christy would be right.” His hand slides down my back to my ass and he yanks me against him, buries his face in my neck, and nibbles me there. “You’re delicious.”
“You know, we’re at work.”
“The door’s locked and no one gives a shit.”
I giggle and give in. I want him to kiss me.
And he does. Boy, does he.
When we finally come up for air, I have to pull away, smooth my hand over my hair, and take a deep breath.
“You’d better give me that food before I do something silly like strip out of my clothes and lie on this table.”
His brown eyes flare with lust and humor.
“Let’s do that.”
“No.” I laugh and reach for the bag of food. “Maybe later.”
“Definitely later.”
“You need to sleep,” Quinn says. It’s late, after ten in the evening, and I haven’t gone back to his place for the night yet.
“I just want to finish this. I want to find it.”
“You’re exhausted, sweetheart. You need to rest, and get back to it in the morning.”
I yawn, and then shrug. “I guess you’re right.”
My phone starts to ring, making me frown.
“Who’s calling at this time of night? You’re with me.” I read the display and answer. “Uncle Patrick?”
“Where are the boxes?” he demands.
“What boxes?”
“You know what boxes. The files. They’re not here.”
I look up at Quinn, whose face is like stone.
“Why are you at Grandpa’s?”
“I own this house now, Sienna, I have every right to be here. I also have every right to know where my father’s property is.”
“It’s in my custody,” I reply, standing so I can pace the room. “And I’m going to be honest, I don’t appreciate you calling at this time of night to grill me about this. You know I would never do anything to harm Grandpa’s things, and I’m working on an open case on behalf of our family.”
“You’re right,” he says with a sigh. “I came here to sit for a while. I sometimes do that late at night when I can’t sleep. I miss him.”
“I miss him too, but Uncle Patrick, you crossed a line.”
“I disagree,” he replies, his voice hard again. “I’d appreciate an answer.”
“Like I said, it’s in my custody, and I’m working the case full-time, until it’s done. Everything will be returned when the case is over.”
Quinn begins to knead my shoulders from behind and I lean into his touch, immediately calming.
Uncle Patrick hangs up without saying good-bye, and I sigh, then lean back when Quinn wraps his arms around me, hugging me from behind.
“That was weird.”
“He’s angry?” Quinn asks.
“Yeah, I guess he went to Grandpa’s and is pissed that the boxes are gone. It’s so weird, it’s as if he doesn’t think I can handle this case. This isn’t the first time he’s called me out on something regarding it.”
“Maybe he’s worried,” Quinn suggests, but his voice doesn’t sound sure.
“I don’t know, he’s never questioned me before.”
“Hmm.”
I turn in his arms and frown up at him. “What?”
“I don’t know him well, but there’s just something about him that I don’t trust.”
“Don’t be silly.” I shake my head and pull away, gathering my files and briefcase. “Uncle Patrick is just going through some grief, or loneliness. Or maybe he’s worried that the park will be lost because of this. It’s been a staple of the neighborhood for a very long time, and it’s something that my family has always been proud of.”
“Maybe,” Quinn says with a thin smile.
“But you don’t think so.”
“Like I said, I don’t know him,” he replies and takes my hand to walk with me down to the car. “But I don’t like that he upset you.”
“I’ll be fine. Nothing that some sleep won’t fix.” I lean against him in the elevator, kiss his chest through his shirt. “It was a good idea to have me stay with you. It is easier.”
“I do have good ideas once in a while,” he says with a smile. “Do I need to carry you to the car?”
“No, I
think I can walk.”
But I feel dead on my feet. The longer we go without finding our proof, the more exhausting it is.
I’m worried.
Before long, we’re in Quinn’s condo, and I’m sitting at the end of his long, gray sofa, my legs pulled up under me, with a steaming mug of tea in my hands.
I’m staring at the ocean painting I gave him.
It really does suit him and this space.
“You haven’t even changed,” Quinn says as he joins me, taking my mug out of my hands so he can take a sip. He’s in some gym shorts and nothing else.
God, that V at his hips is something to write home about.
“How do you find time to go to the gym?” I ask him.
“I usually go early in the morning before I go to the office,” he says and passes me back the mug. “But lately—”
“You’ve been with me.”
I sip the tea and feel guilt set up residence in my belly.
“I’ve taken up a lot of your time.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“I know.” I reach for his hand, threading our fingers. “But I feel bad. I’m taking time from your business and your life. I’ve even imposed in your condo for the immediate future.”
“What’s with this mood tonight, sweetheart?” He wraps one arm around my shoulders and tucks me against him, buries his lips and nose in my hair, and kisses me gently. “I told you before, I rarely do anything that I don’t want to. Besides, who needs the gym when I’m getting a regular workout with you?”
I chuckle and squeeze his fingers.
“True. I’m just saying, if it’s too much, just tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings.”
Much.
Okay, it will.
“Being with you is never enough, Sienna. I love every minute. So stop thinking like this and enjoy your tea before I carry you to my bed to have my way with you.”
“That sounds promising.”
Chapter Thirteen
~Sienna~
“You didn’t sleep well,” Quinn says quietly. We’re in his car, driving into the office. We don’t always drive in, since his office and home are so close, but he said he has errands to run later. We just left Starbucks, and I’m sipping gratefully at my second cup this morning. “Was it my bed?”
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