by Rhian Cahill
Quinn was of the opinion the man was impulsive and stupid but sitting in a snow storm in the dead of winter was downright insane. And if Marcus had crossed over that fine line into the mentally unstable they were in for far more trouble than he ever could have imagined or expected.
Chapter Seven
“You are not going out there in this weather. I don’t care who was skulking around the house, I’m not letting you put yourself in danger when the culprit is long gone,” Rowan yelled at him.
She’d been yelling at him since he’d told Brogan he’d go out and take a look around while they secured the window and cleaned up. He understood her concern but it was misplaced, there would be no taking chances with the storm and darkness awaiting him. Quinn wanted to catch the person but he wouldn’t risk his own neck to do it.
“Stop yelling at him, Rowan. He’s doing his job and you know it. The quicker he’s out there, the quicker he’s back.” Brogan thrust hammer and nails into her hands. “You can watch from the damn window if you want.”
It was a wonder Brogan didn’t crumple to the floor with the look his sister gave him. Before she could open her mouth and start yelling again Quinn tried to reassure her he’d be safe and calm her down. That temper of hers was mixing with her stubborn streak and he didn’t want any more mess to clean up tonight. He remembered the arguments the siblings used to have. Nothing was safe unless it was nailed down, which worried him more now that Brogan had given her the timber and steel tool.
“I’m going to walk around the house and then out to the tree line, no farther. I promise.” He planted a kiss on her lips and scooted out the front door before she could stop him.
Snow slapped his face and the wind cut through the layers of clothes he wore. The weather had eased up a little but there was already a good ten inches of ground cover. Slowly he combed the area around the house, the snowfall had covered any evidence of an intruder but then they might not have gotten that close. The rock could have been lobbed from a fair distance, if the thrower had a good arm, and he recalled Marcus being a damn good baseball player in their youth, the star of their high school team.
Quinn headed over to the tree line, his boots sinking into the drifts of snow. It made for slow going and with the wind threatening to blow him away he struggled to stay on his feet. The area between the house and trees yielded no more than his initial search. Quinn could see where the machine had been parked. A trough beneath a tree about six feet in gave it away. He examined the immediate vicinity, coming up empty. Frustrated, he sighed and looked up, color catching his gaze.
Caught in a low branch were strips of fabric. Standing still, he studied the small pieces of material. They were ripped from a snow jacket, a black and red one. He stepped over to get a better look. On closer inspection, Quinn determined they were from the sleeve of a well-worn parka. He had one very similar in his closet. Anyone who’d attended Whispering Springs High School had one. There were no distinct markings, so unless they could locate the rest of the coat, their chances of proving who was out here were nil.
Irritated at yet another dead end, Quinn made his way back inside. The wind had died down making the slog across the yard easier. As he rounded the corner of the house the door flew open and Rowan stood there waiting for him. It certainly beat any welcome he’d ever received from Brogan. Stomping the snow from his boots on each step, he took his time. He wanted to savor this homecoming. The first of many ahead in the future but this one would always be special. He cleared the threshold and stepped into the welcoming warmth.
Rowan closed the door and latched the deadbolts behind him. He stumbled back into the wall when she launched into his arms, her lips landing on his. It took a moment for him to act but once his brain engaged he swept his tongue into her mouth. In an instant he went from cold to hot. Her flavor seeped into him, spread out and teased his senses until all he could think of—could feel—was Rowan. She took over, turned his thoughts to one thing only. Getting naked and claiming her.
“Ahem.”
Quinn untangled their tongues and pulled free. Dazed, they stared at each other, breathing hard.
“When you two are ready, I’ll be in the living room.” Brogan’s footfalls echoed in the foyer.
“Damn.” Quinn let her unwind her arms and lowered her to the floor, when he’d picked her up he hadn’t a clue. “Hold that thought, we’ll get back to it after I tell you both what I found.”
Rowan nodded and reached for his hand. Fingers curled together they went to join Brogan. Someone had stoked the fire and Quinn unzipped his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair to dry. He shucked his boots and placed them on the hearth before he sat on the floor so his soaked jeans didn’t wet the sofa.
“Well? Did you find anything?”
Quinn smiled at Rowan’s impatience. He was surprised she’d waited this long before grilling him for information.
“Nothing other than you’re right, there was someone out there. They were in the tree line for a while but I couldn’t tell if they’d gotten close to the house or not. Too much snow.”
“So do you have a theory?” Brogan asked.
“Yeah. They were in the trees watching the house for a long time. The depression from the snowmobile was still there. I found part of a jacket sleeve caught in a low branch, whether it happened before the rock was thrown or after, I can’t say. But what I can say is there’s no way to prove who did it. The material is from a Whispering Springs High parka, could have been anyone.”
“But you think it was someone,” Brogan stated.
“Marcus.” Rowan spoke before Quinn could voice his thoughts.
He turned to stare at her. “Why would you think that?”
“Because the rock was thrown into my old room. It’s not the first time he’s tossed rocks at that window. Only last time they were pebbles and he only wanted my attention, not to hurt me.” She shrugged. “That didn’t come until later.”
“Why don’t I know about this? You’ve never mentioned him doing that.” Brogan’s words rang with shock at this new revelation.
“Mom and Dad knew. It was when I was about thirteen I think. He only did it a couple of times and then stopped. I don’t know if Dad said something to him or if he got the hint that I wasn’t interested.”
One more reason for Quinn to hate the man, not that he needed more than Marcus’ attack on Rowan as grounds for hatred. His jaw clamped and he ground his teeth together at the memory of her coming home bruised and bleeding. If she hadn’t begged him not to leave her he would have gone out and hunted Marcus down that night. Brogan had stopped him from going after the bastard when they’d gotten her off the mountain, but he could still feel the boiling anger, still taste the need to kill.
“Quinn?”
He turned to Rowan, saw the concern on her face and cursed himself for not being able to hide his feelings. She had enough to worry about without him, he needed to remember that. One way to take her mind, and his, off things was to lose themselves in each other. In a few hours it would be daylight and they would have to think about the outside world but for now he’d make sure the only thing she thought about was him and the mind numbing pleasure he gave.
Rowan watched the emotions flicker across Quinn’s face. He went from pissed off to aroused in record time. The sad part, or maybe it was a good thing, she found every one of his expressions appealing. He turned her on just by breathing but when he really set out to push her hot buttons he proved lethal. And if she was any judge, Quinn had decided it was time for bed.
He got to his feet and stalked toward her. Wrapping a hand around her upper arm, he hauled her off the sofa to her feet and marched her out of the room.
“Yep. No worries. See you both in the morning.” Brogan’s words and laughter followed them into the hall.
“Quinn?”
He ignored her. This take-charge man all but dragging her to his cave had her blood pumping and her juices flowing. Why was she so ready to submit t
o his forceful nature when it came to sex? In everything else she challenged him but in this she turned into a swooning female eager to surrender to his command. A shudder moved over her. Her breasts grew heavy and her nipples puckered tight. The ache in her clit pounded in time with her galloping heart.
The toe of her sneaker caught the edge of a step, her knee missed the tread by a hair when Quinn picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. Her head bounced and bumped into his back. Rowan wound her arms around his middle and hugged his spine. He took the rest of the stairs two at a time and slammed the door closed with his foot as he entered their room. Wasting no time, he dropped her on the bed and came down on top of her.
His mouth took hers in a hungry kiss. He thrust his tongue inside, savagely taking hers prisoner and delivering a delightful blend of give and take. Hands fumbled with clothing, each attempting to remove whatever fabric was within their grasp. Limbs tangled and frustration mounted. The desire for skin on skin slashed with a razor’s edge, tearing at nerves with wicked need.
Their lips separated, breaths mingling as they gasped for air in the vacuum of sexual demand. Trapped by Quinn’s burning gaze, Rowan stared at hunger so great she feared being devoured whole. Answering want filled her, clawed at her insides and stirred her coyote. The snarl and snap of a beast greedy for its mate echoed in her soul. Quinn’s caramel eyes turned yellow as his coyote answered the call from hers.
A growl rumbled in his chest and vibrated up his throat, the sound muffled by his clenched jaw. Natural instinct had her whimpering and exposing her neck, offering herself to him. His nostrils flared and he bent down to lick the vulnerable column. With gentle laps, he bathed her tender skin. He kissed and nibbled his way to the sensitive hollow beneath her ear. Tickled and teased until she squirmed beneath him.
The frenzied need abated. Her surrender to him soothed the raw need to claim. Now the urge was to savor, enjoy the spoils of the gift given. Slow, deliberate moves weaved their spell and turned her body pliant under his fingertips. He removed her clothing piece by piece, exploring each inch of skin revealed. Lulled into a sexual stupor, Rowan wallowed in the bliss flowing through her.
His magic hands and mouth worshiped her, made her world a kaleidoscope of heavenly pleasures. When he parted her legs to delve between her folds, Rowan arched off the bed, sensation saturating senses and mind. The peak came quickly and took her by surprise. Hurtling over the edge, she clawed his scalp as she held on to the center of her universe.
As her orgasm ebbed he rose above her, stripped off the remainder of his clothes and covered her body with his. Skin on skin from chest to knees, lean muscle met willowy curves. Her spread thighs cradled his hips and his cock pressed on her engorged pussy, hurling electric jolts of want into her womb. Coated in her cream, Quinn slid his erection back and forth, probing her entrance before moving back to bump her clit. He reached for her hands, held them beside her head and entwined their fingers.
Eyes locked on his, Rowan saw love and lust swirl together in a potent mix of longing. Holding her gaze, he lowered his face and sealed his mouth to hers. The kiss soft, gentle. He flexed his hips and lined his shaft up with her opening. His girth stretched her as he entered. With a long drawn out thrust, Quinn drove home, filling her completely. Her groan of relief was swallowed by his hungry lips. His tongue caressed her mouth the way his length stroked her pussy.
A slow, easy rhythm took them up the path to satisfaction. Each pass of his cock a carnal glide on their ride to heaven. Every brush of his tongue a slick lash of sinful delight. Lured into his world of leisurely passions, Rowan followed where he led. Seduced and tantalized by Quinn’s languid movements, she relished the sensation of total abandonment of control. Fingers curled in his, she held on as he took them higher into the bliss of promised ecstasy.
When her climax broke, it swept her up and flung her to the winds. The shattering of body and mind so absolute she felt nothing but the man above her, driving into her faster. Harder. One final lunge and Quinn jerked before he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there. Warmth bathed her core as his cum spilled inside her. Fingers and toes tingled, arms and legs heavy as lead weights, Rowan sank into the mattress.
Quinn shifted to the side, his cock slipped free and her walls clenched in regret. Flutters traveled the length of her channel to her womb, squeezed her tummy tight. Breath after breath rasped in her ears, accompanied by the beating of her heart. Blood rushed in her veins, the echoes of lust tainting the flow. Drained of energy, she let her eyelids close and floated off to sleep.
By the time Quinn found the strength to move Rowan was asleep. On her back, arms and legs sprawled, she looked dead to the world. Sweat stuck her bangs to the side of her face and he smoothed them back with his fingers. Her rosy cheeks held a sheen of moisture and her scent drifted in the air to tease him. She looked so peaceful in her slumber, he tried to shake the bed as little as possible when he climbed out and headed for the bathroom.
Business taken care of, he washed up and went back to bed. Lying next to Rowan, he pulled the covers up and tucked them both in. Predawn light could be seen through the window and Quinn glanced at the clock. Less than two hours until sun-up. Today would be a long one. Flakes still fell from the sky but the wind had slowed to a breeze. If it stopped snowing soon they’d be able to head into town after lunch.
He heard Brogan moving around downstairs and figured his friend had decided not to bother going back to bed. If it wasn’t for the warm woman sharing his bed, Quinn would be staying up too. But he’d rather be awake next to a sleeping Rowan than wondering the house in the early hours of the morning. Turning on his side, he lifted the blanket and watched Rowan’s breasts rise and fall with each breath.
Her creamy skin, marked in places from his teeth and beard stubble, tempted him to taste. Large nipples stood at attention like soldiers guarding a fort. He ran a finger around one pouty tip, it puckered into a tight little bead and the normally pink flesh darkened. She stirred, snorted a choked breath and turned over presenting him with her back. The notches of her spine protruding in a line of follow the dots.
Resisting the urge to trace the delicate row of bones, Quinn moved closer and spooned his body around hers, gratified when she snuggled back against him. He slid one arm beneath her and cupped her breast with his hand. The other, he draped over her side and splayed his fingers across her stomach. Her ass nestled into his groin, his cock slipping snug between her cheeks.
He’d had more sex in the last twenty-four hours than he’d had in his entire life. He should be exhausted and totally sated but he still had a hard-on and his coyote would be more than happy to claim his mate again. The need no longer held the raw edge of starvation, the long abstinence satisfied by the feast of the last day. He burrowed his nose into the hair at her nape, breathed deeply and filled his lungs with her scent.
The house creaked around them and the wind rattled the windowpanes. Rowan continued to sleep, her soft snore and even breathing something Quinn cherished. For the second night in a row she slept in his arms. The reality far better than any dream he’d ever had in the years without her. Until yesterday he’d been clueless to the joy of holding her through the night. When she’d staggered into the house that fateful night long ago neither of them knew there were only hours left before circumstances would tear them apart.
He suppressed a shudder as the memory of Rowan’s bloody and bruised body collapsing on the kitchen floor flashed in his mind. By the time he and Brogan had managed to tend to her wounds she’d roused enough to tell them what happened to her. Quinn’s blood ran cold even thinking about what she’d survived at the hands of Marcus. It soon boiled when he imagined getting hold of the asshole and ripping him to pieces. One small bit at a time.
Rowan squirmed in his embrace, squeaked a protest. Quinn loosened his hold, his wandering mind strained more than his heart. Muscles tensed and ready to fight squeezed hard, involuntarily, banding around her like a
straight jacket. She settled quickly once he loosened his hold. He waited for her breathing to even out again and then gradually worked her out of his arms. Turning to his back, he stared at the ceiling. Deep breaths and the knowledge she lay beside him unharmed helped to rein in his anger.
Calm, Quinn gave up on sleep and slipped from the bed. Careful to make no noise, he grabbed some sweats and a shirt from the dresser. He dressed and checked she was covered up before he left the room and headed downstairs. None of the chill remained from the broken window and he descended the stairs in sockless feet. The smell of fresh coffee pulled him in the direction of the kitchen. Brogan sat at the island bench, a steaming mug clasped in his hands. Quinn helped himself to a cup of the dark liquid.
A sip to test the temperature preceded a mouthful of the rich wake-me-up elixir. Strong and black, just the way he liked it. The stool legs scraped when he pulled out the seat opposite Brogan. They sat in silence, sipped at their cups of caffeine and waited for dawn to arrive. Light came flooding in through the big glass windows in the back wall and as the sun rose to blanket the mountains, the blue sky showed its cloud-free expanse.
“How is she?”
Quinn didn’t answer Brogan’s question right away. He thought about Rowan and how she’d dealt with the obstacles so far. Her biggest freak-out moment had come when he’d gone out to investigate their rock thrower.
“She’s ready.”
“Good. We’ll need her to be.”
Quinn raised a brow. “Oh?”
Brogan shrugged. “A gut feeling.” He sipped his coffee. “I think Marcus has gone over the edge. The rock was juvenile and not something a focused man would do. An obsessed one, yes, but one who’s rational and methodical would never use such immature tactics.”
