The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

  He leaned to the side and raised her left arm, and traced the symbols just to the outside of her breast. “And what does this say?”

  She looked at him from under her lashes. “Beauty.”

  A muscle bunched in his jaw. “So many lovely surprises you offer, honey.”

  His fingers trailed along the edge of her bra before dipping inside and deftly unclasping the front clasp.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her jaw again and moving down her neck, even as his fingers played with her breasts, cupping, weighing. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  The man might walk with a limp, but damned if he wasn’t a girl’s fantasy. She shoved his shirt off his shoulders and he shrugged out of it completely. He was tall, and well-defined, broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow six-pack and trim hips. Man worked out.

  He was simply . . . simply . . . “Lickilicious,” she muttered.

  “What was that?”

  She shook her head as his hands trailed lower. “Nothing.”

  He danced them back to the bed. His kisses robbed her brain of all thought, of anything. They shed the rest of their clothing before she could think, before she could breathe. Then they were pressing skin to skin, body to body on her sheets.

  Before they got too carried away, she said, “Bedside drawer, here, let me.” She rolled over and found protection. “Unless you carry your own in your wallet?” she asked him as they settled back together.

  Quinlan shook his head. “Nope, been awhile, as I said.”

  “You can tell me why later, if you want to. Right now, I just . . .” She leaned up and kissed him, nibbling on his jaw. His aftershave tasted so good, citrus and not, something dark and promising burst onto her senses. She kept kissing, kept licking even as she worked to get the stupid wrapper open.

  “You just what?” He licked her neck, kissed and laved her collarbone.

  “Want you. I just want you.” Her skin felt tight, tingly, on fire, her blood hot and fast in her veins.

  His hand moved slowly over her. “I want to savor though.”

  She hooked her leg over his hip. “We can savor later, unless you only plan to do this once?”

  His laughter against her rubbed his chest against her breasts and she sighed. His hand moved along her arm, down her ribs to her belly.

  “Please, Quin.” She’d never wanted this so badly before.

  He found her with his fingers, playing her through her silky panties. She felt a tug, heard a rip, and then his cool, long fingers were on her, sliding along her, slipping into her until she was moaning and gasping and only one thought echoed in her brain. Want.

  She ripped the condom wrapper open with her teeth. Her hands trembled as she slid it on him, gripping his thick hot length. “I’ll have to get some more of these,” she muttered.

  “Hopeful, are you?”

  “You’ve no idea,” she told him, biting his chin.

  A muscle bunched in his jaw. “Good. Because I won’t last long the first time, and after that I’m going to make you beg,” he told her, licking her neck, biting her earlobe, jerking another shudder from her.

  Quinlan rolled them and pressed her to the mattress and she thought something flashed in his eyes before he settled between her legs. She opened, welcoming him.

  His thumb still played her, circling that one spot that shivered currents through her even as his fingers thrust into her, deep and deeper, bringing her closer and closer.

  “Now, Quin. Damn it. I don’t want to go without you.” He twisted his wrist and she groaned. “Oh God.”

  He chuckled again and then gripped himself, playing along her slick opening. “You don’t have a lot of patience, do you?”

  “No.”

  As soon as he moved his hand, she surged up to meet his thrust, her moan melding with his, “Oh, yeah!” as he slid in long, hard, and deep.

  “Yes!”

  They moved together, awkwardly for a moment, then settled into perfect rhythm. He wrapped his arms under her, arching her back as he leaned down and pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, biting down gently.

  She mewled as her blood turned to molten lava in her, moving faster and faster.

  His hips pumped into her and she met him thrust for thrust until a light sheen of sweat covered their skin. “God, you’re sweet,” he told her, his lips moving against hers before he kissed her.

  He kept moving, kept stroking.

  She ripped her mouth away from his, trying to draw a breath. Trying to . . .

  “Oh God. Oh God. Yes. Yes.”

  The fire caught, burned bright and exploded through every nerve in her entire system. She screamed as every muscle in her body contracted and tightened, freezing the breath in her lungs.

  Her eyes flew open.

  Quinlan threw his head back and yelled, “Thank God! Yes!” He stilled and pulsed inside her, sending her into another shivering orgasm.

  He opened his eyes and met her gaze and for a moment the world froze. Then air exploded from their lungs, mixing and melding as his mouth met hers and he slumped to the side, pulling her with him.

  “Sorry,” he panted. “A bit quick.”

  “Not sorry,” she panted back, licking his chest. “I wanna do it again. And again.”

  He laughed against her and kissed the top of her head. “You, Ella, are one of a kind.”

  “Well, I should hope so.”

  His laughter rumbled up his chest, even as his hands continued to move on her, caressing, calming now.

  Ella blew out a breath and took another deep one, the scent of her lotions laced with the scent of Quinlan and their lovemaking.

  She wasn’t going to worry about tomorrow or the next day, only right now and the time she had with Quinlan. And if the remaining time was anything like the time they’d already shared . . . it would be amazing.

  “So, sugar,” she said, turning her head and kissing his biceps. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

  His eyes were closed, but he grinned and chuckled. “Honey, it was better, in case your bed moving across the floor escaped your notice.”

  Her laughter mixed with his.

  • • •

  Quinlan glanced at the woman sprawled across him. The sheets were tangled around them. The quilt was somewhere on the floor.

  Her lashes were a—light brown, pale amber? He still didn’t know. An earlier shower had taken care of the mascara and any other makeup. Freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose, and across her shoulders he’d noticed. Her face begged to be drawn. His fingers twitched with the need to sketch her, but he was happy where he was.

  He pulled her closer and stared at the ceiling.

  His phone vibrated again, for the umpteenth time. Of all the times for his battery to decide it wanted a longer life. They could just leave him the hell alone.

  He wasn’t going to text or call anyone. He was a grown man, for the love of God. They wanted him to get on with life and that was what he was doing, and doing it pretty damned well if he said so himself.

  The ceiling fan whirred, a bit off balance, in the quiet early morning.

  He took a deep breath and for the first time in a long time he realized he was relaxed, honest to God relaxed—and it wasn’t just from great sex either. He knew the difference. There was something in the air here.

  All too soon, he’d probably be on the plane home with his brothers. There was lots to do this next week. Meetings he was slated for.

  He didn’t care. He hadn’t cared in a long time. He’d tried going back to work for the last year, but everything was wrong. He wasn’t the person he had been and something was missing. Some piece of him.

  And as of yesterday in a hole-in-the-wall market in the Quarter, he’d thought he just might find himself again. Either that or the blue-haired witch had completely enchanted him.

  “You gonna call them back?” Ella asked him quietly.

  He glanced around her pale green walls, the white furni
ture, and could hear the sounds of traffic on the street. He saw pictures of Ella and her friends framed on her dresser.

  The place was not nearly as neat as he normally liked his space, but then, honestly, Ella’s place reflected her. Artsy came to mind. Explosions of color in artwork and throws, pillows with splashes of colors like faded rainbows. Even her potted plants and ivies were in tie-dyed pots.

  She shifted and the sheet between them caressed over skin, teasing, but not nearly as much as her smooth pale skin.

  “Someone’s awake,” she said, moving more onto him. She stacked her hands under her chin on his chest, her blue hair tussled. He ran his hands through it, still surprised at how silky and soft the strands were.

  “So.”

  He grinned. “So.”

  “Lots of party plans today?” She wiggled and the sheet rubbed against the hard-on he’d had since he’d woken up with her in his arms.

  “Don’t know yet. I doubt it. Have no idea what the boys are doing.” He leaned up and kissed her gently. “Don’t really care what they’re doing.” He knew what he planned to do and that was spend more time with the woman lying on him. “What are your plans for the day?”

  “Well, rich boy, I gotta go to work.”

  Of course she did. Most people did. He’d had meetings slated for this week himself until he’d been ambushed by his brothers.

  “Not just yet, you don’t. We still have time.” He trailed his fingers along her spine, her skin smooth beneath his hands. He caressed her back, cupped her ass and pulled her harder against him as he continued to kiss her, sliding his lips over hers. He’d learned the taste of her, the feel of her skin under his hands, under his lips, against his skin. He knew the way she shivered if he kissed her just there behind her ear.

  She shivered now as he ran his tongue up her neck.

  “I’ll be late,” she whispered on a moan.

  “I’ll hurry,” he told her, breathing deep the scent on her skin—flowers and herbs.

  “That’s what you said last time,” she moaned as he jerked the sheet from between them and her skin met his, her supple breasts smashing against his chest, her nipples berry hard and begging for attention.

  “Last time I lied.” He cupped one perfect breast and circled her nipple with his thumb. He’d learned through the night things she liked, things she didn’t, what brought her closer to the edge. “I can do quick.”

  “Oh, sugar, you can definitely handle quick, and slow and anything else you please so well—” She broke off on a moan as he licked her breast before pulling the center into his mouth.

  “Glad you noticed,” he said against her. “This time, I don’t want you to be late.”

  Their bodies moved in the early morning light. She was sensuous, sexy, and so alive. So damned real his breath caught. He slid a hand down between them, found her slick and ready with desire, just as he had every time they’d come together.

  Her eyes met his just as he slid into her hot, wet sheath.

  Looking down on him. For a moment, a memory, jagged and from before, sliced into his brain, freezing him.

  She stilled and leaned over, curling into his chest, kissing him softly as her small hands cupped his face. “What’s wrong?”

  He opened his mouth and shook his head, closing his eyes, concentrating on Ella. On her blue hair, which surprisingly pulled a grin from him. The way she smelled, the way she felt, the way she fit against him, on him, with him . . .

  It was different.

  She was different, this was all different.

  He opened his eyes and stared directly into hers. Quinlan started to roll her under him. Instead he rolled so that they lay staring at each other.

  Her hands still held his face. “It’s okay, whatever it is.”

  His eyes slid closed as he thrust up into her, glad the earlier memory hadn’t shriveled his cock.

  “It’s you and it’s more than okay,” he said against her lips. “You, Ella, are amazing.” He hiked her leg up over his hip and thrust into her harder, loving that little mewl right there, that sound in her throat when he hit that spot just right inside her tight sweet body.

  Her tongue teased his lips. “Look at me, Quin. See me.”

  He opened his eyes again and saw her watching him, her eyes more blue with green striations leading to the amber flecks near the center. He loved the way the colors shifted in her eyes as they made love. “I do.”

  She moved her hand and he caught her left wrist, tracing the letters of love that scrolled up her inner wrist with his tongue. He loved her tattoos.

  Her shiver danced through him. For long moments their bodies undulated in a slow buildup. But he knew it wouldn’t last. She was like fire in his hands, uncontrollable and unpredictable.

  She arched and pulled him even deeper.

  “God, Ella,” he groaned. “Have I mentioned how much I like waking up with you?”

  Chapter 6

  New Orleans, four days later

  Aiden looked again at his phone. “He hasn’t answered a single damned call from any of us in about two days. None of us have seen or heard from him since we all ate at the Magnolia Grill Friday evening.”

  “He’s fine. The boy is getting laid and God knows he needed it,” Ian told him.

  Gavin and Bray snorted and closed their menus. They were all at the Magnolia Grill again on Decatur. Their last night. One night more than they had originally planned. All thanks to their little brother.

  “So we just leave him here?” Brody asked, sipping his drink. “Should of left his ass this morning. As it is, we’ll be a day later getting back.” He looked over the menu. “Wish I’d met a little blue-haired devil to keep me busy.”

  They’d all met the woman Quin was apparently spending time with a couple of nights ago. Here at the Magnolia Grill actually, but no one had seen either of them since. Brody had spent most of the meal apologizing to her for their previous meeting.

  Ian slapped Aiden on his shoulder. “Brother dear, you are the oldest, but we are all old enough to make our own choices. Stop being the mother hen. We brought him here to have a good time. Quinlan isn’t seven and drowning in the frozen river anymore.”

  “Feels like it,” Aiden muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket. “He could at least text for us to go on. How do we know the woman didn’t steal every cent in his wallet and leave him for dead in an alley in the Quarter or in some bayou?”

  “Because she has no criminal record, they’ve been holed up in her place for the last two days, and his credit cards haven’t been used,” Ian told him.

  Aiden just stared at him. Okay, so he didn’t know all of that. He did know the woman Quinlan was spending time with had no criminal record, the rest was a total lie. He knew the two were actually in Vegas because that’s what the credit cards said. They were currently holed up in the Bellagio. However, he was not about to share that info unless it was absolutely necessary. As yet, none of his brothers had figured out the plane wasn’t even here in New Orleans, but in Nevada.

  “I’m not the only mother hen, it seems,” Aiden said.

  Ian’s grin faded. “I didn’t pay attention before, and if I had, Quinlan wouldn’t have been hurt in the first damned place.” He swallowed all of his water and wished it were something stronger, but hell, he’d been doing stronger all weekend. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”

  “Fine,” Aiden said.

  They all ordered and then Ian waited. Aiden didn’t disappoint. “As long as Quin seems to be having a great time, I won’t worry about him.”

  Gavin snorted. “Yeah, right, that’s all we’ve done for the last year.” Gavin took a long swallow of beer.

  “So it seems like,” Brayden said.

  It was just them this evening. Gabe and Johnno were back at the house, nursing hangovers and just chillin’, they’d said. Fine. Christian’s brother had not been seen since that first night when he took them all out to his club, but then he was generally as busy as the
rest of them, so that wasn’t a surprise.

  What was a surprise, at least to Ian, was not only the youngest of them getting over whatever the hell kept him celibate for the last year—which Ian knew was mainly one Hellinski bitch—but the rest of his brothers and their amount of worry for one grown man.

  Himself and his own worries he understood and owned. He shook his head.

  Brody leaned up and added, “You guys smother him. The tighter you do it, the more he figures to hell with you and closes up.”

  Ian smiled, and then there was Brody—Junior.

  “We’re his brothers,” the twins both said before giving each other irritated looks.

  “So?” Brody said. “We’re the same age. I daresay, other than Aiden, through the years I’ve spent the most time with him.” He leaned back and laughed. “And some damned fine times those were too. He’ll be fine. Man always had a woman. Last year or so has just been unnatural.”

  “Yeah, well, regardless how well you know him, Junior, we’ll still make sure some slag doesn’t take advantage,” Ian said.

  Brody glared at the nickname. “Fine, don’t listen to me.” Then he frowned. “Slag? What the hell’s a slag?”

  “Ian here is picking up lovely euphemisms from his wife,” Aiden said.

  Their food arrived and their conversation moved onto other topics, but Ian’s mind kept along the track he’d told the others to get off of.

  First Quin almost died, then he just wasn’t himself. Ian knew Aiden missed their brother the way Quinlan used to be. The workaholic. Charming and social. A mind so sharp he never made notes. Now he worked, but it wasn’t with any sort of passion that he’d had for it before. He often forgot things that he never would have forgotten before. Now the charm was more rote and he’d only do social on a dire threat or when there was no other option. Maybe, whoever this woman was, she would help bring their brother back.

  Or at least one that cared about something. Because Quinlan Kinncaid didn’t care about anything anymore.

  Ian knew that feeling well. The nothing was not a place he wanted his brother to be.