Untouched

by Maisey Yates

  Her hand stilled. “You know why.”

  So did she, but she was still turned on, high on her need for release, and it didn’t seem to matter very much.

  “Because I’m bad for you,” he said, the growl in his voice exaggerated.

  “Yes,” she said, resuming her movements, pleasure streaking through her like flames.

  “Oh . . . baby, you have no idea how much I want you.”

  It was that statement that pushed her over the edge. She cried out, her internal muscles clenching tight, her eyes squeezed shut as Quinn’s face, his chest, his abs, flashed through her mind.

  A second later, she heard a low grunt on the other end of the phone, and she could only assume that Quinn had gone over the edge with her.

  She lay there after that, her arm straight out, away from her head, the phone loose in her fingers, her heart pounding hard, shame, her newfound semi-constant companion, trying to crowd her post-orgasmic bliss.

  She put the phone back to her ear and heard Quinn breathing hard on the other end. “So,” he said, finally. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “See you at nine.”

  The line went quiet and Lark threw her arm over her head. “You suck,” she said into the empty room.

  She really did suck. She was the worst. But right now she felt sleepy. And satisfied. And she didn’t want to run from Quinn. The trouble was, he wasn’t here.

  She rolled over onto her side, pulling her covers up over her shoulders and holding them tight. She wished Quinn were behind her, his strong arms holding her close. She would worry about why she shouldn’t want that later.

  Right now she just did. Right now she ached for closeness. She buried her face in her pillow and pulled the blankets tighter.

  Things would be so much simpler if she could hate Quinn. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

  She felt like she was being torn in two. And the only way to stop it was to release her hold on one of the things she was clinging to.

  Right now, she didn’t think she could do that.

  ***

  “Good mornin’.”

  “Stuff it, Parker.” Lark got in the truck and slammed the door behind her, and Quinn gave her a sideways look. She had her head down, her focus on her hands in her lap. She was angry at him. Again. After he’d given her an orgasm. Again. It took a lot to satisfy this woman.

  He opened his mouth to tell her she was starting to seem ungrateful, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the color in her cheeks, the fact that she refused to look at him at all.

  The fact that he could almost feel her shame and embarrassment radiating from her. And that had never been a part of the plan in his mind. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Cade by shaming Lark, but it seemed like that’s what was happening.

  He’d imagined her just growing an attachment to him, and him being able to use that, but while she was definitely drawn to him, she didn’t appreciate anything about it. She was being dragged kicking and screaming into an attraction she didn’t want.

  In fairness, he hadn’t meant for last night’s phone call to go as it had. That had been off script. Then again, so had their time in his pickup. A kiss, maybe, but he hadn’t planned on taking things as far as they’d gone.

  And last night all he’d wanted to do was call and try to patch things up. Try to get her sweet again.

  Good job, asshole.

  He hadn’t made her like him any more after that. He’d made her come though, and in his experience that didn’t usually make a woman so damn mad.

  “What do you think you’ll work on today?” he asked, turning the truck around and pulling out of the driveway.

  “Don’t ask me that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Do you care? Does it mean anything to you at all?”

  “Are we talking computers?”

  “Yes, we’re talking computers. I know the other stuff doesn’t mean anything to you.”

  “Do you?” he asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I do. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “I thought maybe you were talking about it, so I had to say something,” she said.

  “Well, I wasn’t. I don’t have anything to say on the subject, in fact.”

  “Well. Fine. I don’t either. I have work to do.”

  He spared her another quick glance before looking back at the narrow two-lane road. “Which was what I was asking you about.”

  “I know. I just don’t think you care about the work I do as long as it gets done.”

  “I actually do care, since I’m paying you.”

  “Fine. The firewall is operational, and I’m making sure everything is good with the LAN connections. I’m moving on to the office computers now, and I’m going to set up an intranet for your employees—not for the kids—something that will allow them to share information, send email, et cetera.”

  “I don’t know what most of those words meant.”

  “I didn’t figure you did.”

  “I feel like I’ve missed the digital age. I do most of my work outside, and that’s how I like it. I think if I would have stayed at home I would have had all that touch screen shit. Would have worn a tie and worked at a desk.”

  Just thinking about it made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. The idea of being trapped behind a desk all day, four walls of an office closing in around him.

  “I’m not sure whether I would have been a brilliant businessman or a terrible one.”

  “Why is that?” she asked.

  “Because I didn’t know the value of hard work, I felt like I could have whatever I wanted and I didn’t really care who I hurt so long as I got what I wanted. The law was also something I wasn’t overly concerned with.”

  “You would have made millions.”

  “Not worth it.”

  He looked at her again and caught her peeking at him sideways through the curtain of her dark hair. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. Really. Anyway, I inherited a lot of my dad’s money when he kicked it, so why do something I hate when I don’t need to do it to get money?”

  “You’re such a charmer, Quinn.”

  “Nah, I’m not.”

  “Nope,” she shook her head. “I was being facetious.”

  “I actually got that. Although, for all that you say you don’t like me, you don’t seem to back it up.”

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of movement and he turned, treated to a full view of Lark’s middle finger held high. “How’s that?” she asked.

  “You know what that means, right?”

  She curled her lip and shot him a snotty look. “Duh.”

  “Not exactly a threat, baby, since part of me just wants to say, ‘Go right ahead.’”

  She lowered her hand slowly. “You’re so inappropriate.”

  “No more so than you.”

  “Lies. And anyway, I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  He turned the truck into the driveway that led up to Longhorn. “Hard not to talk about it when it’s all I can think about.”

  “See, that doesn’t make any sense to me, Quinn.”

  “Why not?”

  “As we’ve established, you’re a buckle bunny magnet. And those women are . . . you know . . . uh . . . accomplished in the coital arts.”

  A laugh burst out of his mouth. “Right.”

  “So I’m not exactly sure why I, a total nerd who is not, am occupying any portion of your thoughts except the ones that say, ‘Dear Lord, that is one awkward hot mess.’ I’m naturally suspicious of it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I told you I was wearing Superman underwear and you still gave me a heavy breathing call, so forgive me if I’m a little conf
used.”

  He put the truck in park in front of the main house, but left the engine running. What she was saying . . . all of those thoughts had passed through his mind. Sure, he’d started out wanting to seduce her to screw with Cade, but it had changed. Grown. Until, without any pre-planning, he’d ended up talking dirty to a woman who was wearing a t-shirt with dinosaurs on it. She was right—it didn’t really make sense.

  But damned if he could do anything to change it.

  “Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with what you’re wearing or how skilled you are,” he said, hesitating a little bit, because he wasn’t sure where these words, these sincere and gentle words, were coming from. “Maybe it’s just you.”

  Was this part of his plan, or was this real? Was it coming from some deep part of him he hadn’t known about? That seemed impossible. He was thirty-four years old; he didn’t think he had parts of himself left to discover.

  He was a simple bastard. He wanted sex, food, drink, in that order. And he wanted to do the one thing in life he was good at, and God help anyone who stood in his way. He didn’t say romantic, sensitive shit. Ever.

  He said things like, “Take your panties off, darlin’.” And women did. So he’d never had to say anything deeper, because with those simple, crude words he was able to scratch number one off his list. And if after leaving the hotel he could hit a twenty-four hour drive-through for a cheeseburger and a Coke, he could hit them all in one straight shot.

  So what the hell these words were doing coming out of his mouth, and whatever this ache was—in his chest, not just in his balls—he didn’t know.

  But they had. And they felt a lot like the truth.

  He looked at her fully now, her head down, her hair concealing most of her face. “Lark.” He reached out and brushed his fingertips against her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

  She jerked back. “Don’t.” He lowered his hand, and a tear slid down her pale cheek, dropping onto his knuckles, the impact of it hard as a metal rod across his bones. “Please, Quinn, just stop this. Please. I have . . . I have Cole and Cade. They’re my family. They raised me. I know I complained about it. About feeling smothered sometimes. And I do. It’s true. But in the end . . . in the end, they’re the only family I have. If I lose them because Cade finds out that . . . that I did this with you . . . Be honest with me . . . what do you want from me?”

  His stomach felt like lead, a massive chunk of it sitting on top of other vital organs. And when he spoke his next words, he picked them carefully. Made sure they were honest, unvarnished, and cold. Because he realized right then what he had to do.

  “I want to fuck you.”

  She closed her eyes. “Is that all?”

  “Yeah.”

  She shook her head. “Then . . . then please don’t touch me again. Because that . . . that isn’t worth losing my family. I’m sorry.”

  Another tear followed the trail of the first one, leaving glimmering tracks on her skin. And he felt like the lowest creature on earth.

  It was one thing to go after Cade, but he’d been . . . he didn’t know what he’d been to involve Lark. She didn’t deserve it.

  And if he was any kind of man, he had to step back. He had to cut her out of this.

  “Tell me you don’t want it,” he said, his voice rough.

  “I don’t want it,” she whispered. “I can’t want it.”

  “Okay. Then I’m not going to touch you again. I don’t want you afraid I’m going to harass you or anything, or stop you from doing your job. And I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Possibly it’s too late.”

  “I’ve also given you . . . what, two orgasms? Can we call it even?”

  She laughed, a shaky, watery sound. “Oh my gosh. You’re so inappropriate.” She looked at him, dark eyes glittering. “You can’t be inappropriate like that anymore. You can’t say things like that. It has to be like nothing happened between us. Please. I need it to be like nothing happened.”

  “Whatever you need, darlin’.”

  “I need you to not say that. No darlin’. No baby. No honey.”

  “Whatever you need, Lark.”

  “Why are you being so damn decent?”

  “Because it’s not fun to see you cry. And whatever I have to do to keep it from happening again . . . I’ll do it. I didn’t want to hurt you.” That was the honest truth. He didn’t want to hurt her, even if it was already too late. At least he wouldn’t continue hurting her.

  “You . . . I mean, it’s not a bad hurt.”

  “No?”

  She forced a smile. “Just a flesh wound.”

  She looked so young right then, with her long hair down around her face and tears in her eyes. And he was struck then by just what a massive son of a bitch he was. She was a nice girl. And he was not a nice man.

  She was twelve years younger than him. And that hadn’t snacked him in the face until just this moment. The gulf between them was so much bigger than he’d let himself acknowledge. And he was a way bigger ass for all this than he’d let himself realize too.

  “Glad to hear it’s not more serious than that.”

  She lifted one shoulder and took a deep, unsteady breath. “Nah. It’s fine. It’s . . . an aborted love affair. Lust affair, really. Happens.”

  She was trying a little too hard to be casual. It was adorable. And it made him want to touch her. But he wasn’t allowed to touch her anymore.

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “So, I’m gonna work. And it’s fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re all”—she waved her hand—“fine.”

  “Obviously.”

  She pulled the handle on the truck door and pushed it open, stumbling out, muttering something about being fine. So fine. Super fine. Then she headed straight back toward the computer lab.

  He let out a long, slow breath, then go out of the truck cab, his boot kicking up a cloud of dust when it hit the driveway. He headed up the path to the main house, and the door opened for him before he got up to it.

  Sam was standing there.

  “What the hell, man?” Quinn asked, without much growl because he felt a little deflated after all of his personal realizations.

  “We’re here checking out Longhorn Ranch. We heard it was nice. We might want to invest in it,” Sam said.

  “Oh, right.” Quinn stepped inside and Sam closed the door behind him. “I like how you worked up a story in advance since you knew I might strangle you to death if you let Lark see you.”

  Sam shrugged. “She wouldn’t necessarily think we were spying on Cade. Maybe we were just taking advantage of vacation time”—he gave his wife, who was standing in the corner of the living room giving Quinn the steely eye, a sidelong glance—“to rekindle our flame.”

  Jill blushed. Blushed. A forty-whatever-year-old woman, blushing when looking at her husband of twenty-whatever years. It just pissed Quinn off because he was clearly looking at some well-laid people, and he wasn’t getting any at all.

  Good for Sam and Jill. Really.

  Except now he did want to growl.

  “Yeah, except she’s not stupid, and she’d probably think something was up.”

  “And does it matter?” Jill asked, crossing her arms, the intensity of her death stare growing by the second.

  “Yes, Jill, it does. You see, I’m attached to my balls and I like them where they are.”

  “What did you do?” she asked, her eyes scalding him now.

  “Nothing. And I’m not going to do anything.”

  “Are you going to say you never touched her?” Jill asked.

  Quinn looked down at his hands. “Sure. I never touched her. I’m lying, but it’s kind of a nice lie. One I wish was true.”

  For the first time in their years of knowing each other, Quinn thought Sam was going to punch him in the face. �
��What. The. Hell. Did you do to her?” he asked, teeth gritted.

  Quinn didn’t especially want to bar brawl with the only person he called a friend, but if Sam was going to start throwing punches, Quinn was going to have to defend himself, because while Sam was more than ten years Quinn’s senior, he had no doubt the older man could kick the ever-loving shit out of him.

  “I didn’t sleep with her,” Quinn said. “Calm the hell down.”

  “She liked you, Quinn,” Jill said, her voice low.

  “Yeah, and that’s why I’m not going to touch her, so you don’t have to worry. I don’t need you guys to play the part of shoulder angel. I’m an asshole, but even I know when to rethink something.”

  “But you were going to do something,” Sam said.

  “But I’m not now.”

  “I knew you were a dick.” This from Jill.

  “Yeah, you know, thank you, Jill, I never, not once, said I wasn’t a dick. That’s common knowledge, in fact. Why do you think it was so easy for Cade Mitchell to paint me as the bad guy? I’m the easiest guy to cast in the role. I get that. But I had a moment of conscience, and I’m not going to do anything with Lark. I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “Are you going to stop going after Cade?” Sam asked.

  “Hell no. I still want to hurt him.”

  “To what end?” Jill asked.

  “Honestly, hurting him is the last thing on my agenda. I’d rather figure out a way to get reinstated at the circuit.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  “Then I’m going to screw him over. Like he did me. I own up to being a dick when I’m a dick. Cade Mitchell needs to own up to it, or I’m going to burn him. And don’t ask me to feel sorry for him because he walks with a limp now.”

  “Heaven forbid you act like a human being,” Jill said.

  “I am acting like a human being. Selfish and angry. What’s not human about that? I just want back what he took from me.”

  “And barring that?”

  “I’m going to start screwing with his contracts.”

  “What contracts?” Sam asked.

  “They still make most of their money with livestock that goes to the Rodeo Association. I’m not above making sure no one will touch him with a ten-foot pole. He can’t ride, but he still makes a damn decent living off the circuit.”