Married to the Maverick Millionaire

by Joss Wood

  “He was also physically abusive.”

  It would take a moment for the truth to sink in.

  “What did you say?”

  “Toby liked to use force to get his point across.”

  “Carter hurt you?” Quinn’s roar was louder this time and Cal winced. Oh, God, he was losing it. Anger, dark and dangerous, sparked in his eyes and every single muscle in his body was taut. She had to bring him down; she had to diffuse the situation.

  “It wasn’t that bad, Quinn.” Cal placed a hand on his arm. “He slapped me a couple of times. It was mainly verbal—”

  “Don’t you dare defend him!” Quinn linked his hands behind his head, incandescently angry. “He raised his hand to you—there is no excuse!”

  It was important for her to keep calm. Arguing with him wouldn’t help.

  “I’m not defending him, Quinn, I’m trying to explain what happened.”

  “When did he start hitting you?” Quinn demanded, the cords in his neck tight.

  Dammit, he would have to ask that question. “About six months after we married,” Cal admitted.

  “And you stayed with him for another year?” Quinn shouted. “I don’t understand this, you! Why didn’t you bail?”

  “Because, by then, I had no self-confidence. He told me he would destroy me and my father if I walked out on him.”

  “And you believed him? Come on, Red, you are smarter than that!”

  Cal wrapped her arms around her bent knees and tried not to feel hurt. Quinn didn’t understand. “I used to judge women who stayed in abusive relationships too. It’s easy to stand on that pedestal, but Toby knocked me off it with a single slap.”

  Her gentle rebuke hit its mark. The fire went out of Quinn’s eyes, but the tension in his body remained. He pulled in a deep breath and then expelled the air and rolled his head. After a few minutes he walked back to the daybed and sat down next to her.

  Quinn picked up her hand and threaded his fingers between hers. The anger was still there, but it was under control. “So, explain it to me. Why did you stay with him, Cal? I can’t understand why you didn’t leave the first time he hurt you. You know, you knew, better than that.”

  Shame and embarrassment rolled through her. “I told myself I didn’t want my big, fancy, expensive wedding to be a waste of money—a stupid reason—and I didn’t want to admit that I’d made a huge mistake. Pride and stubbornness played a part.”

  “Oh, Cal.”

  “Mostly, I didn’t want to look like a fool,” Cal admitted and wrinkled her nose.

  “Did you ever think about leaving him?”

  “I was leaving him,” Cal said. “The day before the accident I told him that I was filing for divorce. We had a huge fight and he told me he would destroy me. Destroy my father. Then he punched me, really hard, in the ribs.”

  She saw anger roll through him again, hot and powerful. “God, I so want to find Carter’s grave, dig him up and beat him back to death.”

  “He broke three ribs. After his death, the press reports said that I was too shocked to cry, that I was beyond tears. All I could think about was that he couldn’t hurt me again. I wouldn’t have to deal with a messy divorce, with the drama that would follow. I felt like I’d received a get-out-of-jail-free card.” Cal looked at him with wide eyes. “Is that wrong?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Not from where I’m sitting.” He squeezed her hand. “You could’ve called me, Cal. I would’ve helped.”

  “I know, but I felt...”

  “Like a fool?”

  “Yeah. I thought that since I’d gotten myself into the situation I needed to get myself out.” Cal pulled their joined hands into her lap and leaned against his shoulder. “I was very young and very dumb. I was grieving my mom’s death and he made me feel bright and beautiful and, I guess, safe. Protected.”

  “I was also there. Didn’t I make you feel like that?” Quinn demanded,

  Cal shook her head. “Toby spoiled me. You’ve never done that. You treat me like an equal, like an adult. Toby promised that my life would be drama-free with him. After Mom died, I wanted that.”

  “Life is never drama-free.”

  “I know that now,” Cal said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, didn’t ask for your help, that I haven’t told you about this before. It was my ugly little secret.”

  “We all have secrets, Cal, but nothing about you—not even your secrets—can ever be ugly.” Quinn turned toward her and placed his hand on her cheek. The tenderness and regret in his eyes made her heart trip. “I wish you’d come to me.”

  Cal tasted tears in the back of her throat. “I do too. I know now you would’ve been there for me, Quinn, just like I know that you would be there for Jack if he allowed you to be.” Cal mimicked Quinn’s action and put her hand on his rough, stubbled jaw. “You’re such a good man, Q, even if you don’t believe it half the time.”

  “Not so good,” Quinn said, his voice rough with emotion.

  Cal shook her head. “You’ll never convince me of that. You are both tender and strong and that combination floors me.”

  Tenderness flared in Quinn’s light eyes, along with desire and protectiveness.

  She couldn’t resist him.

  Nine

  “Red—God, why can’t I resist you?”

  His eyes roamed over her face, looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. And Cal knew that, even if it was just temporary, their friendship had retreated to make room for a blazing love affair.

  It might only last the night or it might be strong enough to withstand the passage of time. No matter how long it lasted, she would enjoy him, as much as she could.

  “I need you. I need to love you right here, right now, in the dark, in the cold night air,” Quinn told her, his hands reaching for the belt that held her rich purple wraparound jersey together. His hands pulled the fabric apart and he skimmed her torso, cupped her breasts while his tongue invaded her mouth, sliding against hers in a dance that was as exciting as it had been the first time he kissed her on the terrace at the masked ball.

  “You taste so good.” He broke the contact with her mouth to murmur the words.

  Cal moaned and her hands slid over his chest, down his waist to grip his hips. He hadn’t bothered with a coat so she had easy access to the buttons on his shirt and she went to work on them. She soon felt the contrast of the chilly night air and his superhot skin. Cal felt his hand under the cup of her bra and she shivered, excitement skittering over her. These were hands that knew her, knew what she liked, knew how to touch her.

  Quinn pushed Cal’s shirt down and off her arms and he groaned when he pulled his head back to look at her lacy bra barely covering her creamy breasts. He dropped his head to pull her nipple into his mouth, tasting her through the barrier of the lace. Cal linked both arms around his head and held him to her. She needed this, needed him to need her, to crave her. She felt powerful and feminine, confident and sexy. Strong.

  God, she felt strong.

  Quinn’s hands dropped to her stomach, fumbling as he tried to open the buttons on her jeans. He cursed, sounding uncharacteristically impatient. “I need you. I need to be inside you, loving you.”

  Quinn groaned, his mouth on hers as he pushed her jeans and thong down her legs. She kicked the garments off and moaned when his fingers stroked her with exquisite care. “So hot, so warm. Mine.”

  God, she was. His, only his.

  Cal snapped open the button to his jeans, tugged down his fly and Quinn sighed when her hand found him, long, strong and so hard. She couldn’t wait, couldn’t cope with his drive-her-crazy foreplay tonight. She just wanted him inside her. Completing her.

  Quinn shucked his clothes and pushed her down onto the ottoman. With his hands on her thighs, he gently pushed her l
egs apart. He leaned over her, his expression hot and hard and intense and, with a lot of passion and little finesse, he entered her with one long, fluid, desperate stroke. She was wet and ready for him. He stopped for a moment, his arms straight out as he hovered above her, her astonishment at how in sync they were reflected in his eyes. He was rock-hard and ready and she was very, very willing.

  She could feel every luscious inch of him, skin on skin, her wet warmth coating him, his head nudging her womb. He felt amazing and... God!

  “Quinn!” Cal smacked his shoulder with her fist and he pulled his head back to look down into her face.

  “What? What’s wrong?” he demanded, his voice hoarse with need.

  “Condom! You’re not wearing one.”

  Quinn pushed himself up on his hands to hover over her. She really didn’t want him to pull out. She loved the intimacy of making love to him without a barrier. It felt real...

  “I’m clean and I’m—” he choked on the words “—you know...a genetic dead end.” He supported himself on one hand and she saw the muscles in his shoulders and biceps bunch as he lifted his thumb to caress her cheekbone. “If I have to run downstairs for a condom, I will, crying all the way. But I’ve always used a condom and I was tested last month. I’m clean, there’s no chance of you falling pregnant and I just want to make love to you, feel every inch of you, with no barriers between us. Because, God, you feel amazing.”

  She clenched her internal muscles, involuntarily responding to the emotional plea beneath his words. His jaw was rigid and she could see he was using every speck of willpower he had to stop himself from plunging into her.

  “Okay, yes,” Cal said and her hands flew over his ribs, down his hips and over his butt, pulling him deeper into her. “Move, Quinn, I need you.”

  “Not as much as I need you, baby,” Quinn growled as he forced himself to keep the pace slow. Cal whimpered with need, slammed her hips up, driving him deeper inside.

  “Harder, deeper, faster,” Cal chanted.

  Quinn had no problem obeying that particular order and he pistoned into her, his hand under her hips to tilt her pelvis up so she could take him deeper. She suspected he was a knife’s edge away from losing it and she wanted him sharing this with her.

  Cal lifted her hands between their bodies to hold his face. She stared into his eyes, blue clashing with green, and smiled. “Let’s fly together, Quinn.”

  Quinn nodded. “Now?”

  “Now.”

  Cal let herself dissolve around Quinn, her body shaking with her intense orgasm. Love, hot and powerful, roared through her as Quinn groaned and threw his head back. She felt him come deep inside her.

  His, Cal decided. Only his.

  * * *

  Cal rolled over and, not finding Quinn, put her hand out to pat his side of the bed. Frowning, she opened her eyes. Hearing the sound of water running, she looked at the closed bathroom door. Cal sat up, grateful for a moment alone, a little time to think.

  Last night she suspected that she might be in love with Quinn. In the cold light of morning she knew it to be true. She’d fallen head over heels in love with her oldest friend.

  Idiot.

  Had she really been stupid enough to think he was a safe bet, to think she’d be immune to his charm, his quirky sense of humor, to that luscious body and to-hell-with-you attitude? He was the least safe person in the world to love. Yet here she was, feeling all those crazy emotions she’d swore she’d never feel again. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking of him in terms of commitment and forever. Quinn didn’t do commitment and he had no concept of forever. He married her because he needed an out, a way to mend some fences. He married her because he trusted her to not make waves, to not make demands on him that he wouldn’t be able to meet.

  Quinn wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t need him to be. He was perfect for her. He was strong enough to allow her to be strong. They argued, but he didn’t overpower her. He didn’t force his opinion on her. He trusted her to be the best version of herself, was strong enough to deal with the broken bits of her, adult enough to know that everyone had their quirks.

  He knew her, flaws and all. Better than that, he accepted her, flaws and all.

  For that reason, and a million others, she loved him. In a soul-mates, be-mine-forever way.

  The way he’d made love to her last night, both on the deck and later in this bed—the way he’d held her like she was precious and perfect—gave her hope. She felt excitement bubble and pop in her stomach. Maybe they had a shot...

  “You’re looking a bit dopey, Red.”

  Cal jerked her head up. Quinn’s shoulder pressed into the door frame and a white towel around his hips was a perfect contrast to his tanned skin. He looked as gorgeous as ever—and as remote as the International Space Station. Unlike her, Quinn wasn’t having a warm and fuzzy, I-love-you moment.

  “Hi.”

  Quinn lifted an inquiring eyebrow. “What’s up?” he asked, stalking into the room. “You have your thinking face on.”

  Damn, he knew her so well.

  “You might as well spit it out, Red. You know you want to.”

  She did. She wanted to tell him how she felt, wanted to admit to him—and to herself—that she wanted a real marriage between them, something that would see them through to the end of their lives. She wanted to be the brave, strong, confident woman she’d worked hard to be and ask him if he felt the same, ask him whether he could love her like she needed to be loved.

  Cal wrapped her arms around her knees, biting down on her bottom lip. “I could tell you, but I don’t know if you want to hear what I have to say.”

  Quinn’s eyes hardened and turned bleak. “Are you going to tell me something else about Carter that I won’t like?”

  “No. I told you about the abuse and the inheritance and that’s it,” Cal replied.

  “Then what is it?” Quinn asked, looking at his watch. “And, sorry, I don’t mean to rush you, but I need to get to headquarters for a strategy meeting with Mac and Kade.”

  She couldn’t just blurt this out on the fly. They needed time to talk about it. Cal blew air into her cheeks. “Leave it. We can talk later.”

  Quinn gripped the bridge of his nose, obviously frustrated. “Cal, just say it.”

  Well, okay then. Cal kept her eyes on his as she spoke her truth, her voice shaking. “I’m in love with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want this marriage. I want you.”

  Happiness flared in his eyes but quickly died as confusion and fear stomped over that fragile emotion. Quinn rubbed his hand over his jaw and then moved it to rub the back of his neck. “God, Cal. That was not what I expected to hear.”

  “Yeah, I figured.”

  “I’m not sure what you want me to say...”

  Cal pushed her curls off her face. “It’s not about what I want you to say, Quinn. I’d just like to know if you think it’s a possibility...whether you might, someday, feel the same.”

  Quinn disappeared into his walk-in closet and when he reappeared five minutes later, he was dressed in track pants and a Mavericks hoodie. He carried his shoes to the bed, sat down on the edge and slowly pulled on his socks.

  Cal waited for him to speak and when he did, his words were precise and deliberate. “I think this is all going a bit fast. Last night was emotional and I realize that talking about Carter was difficult for you. The floodgates opened and you released a lot of feelings and I think you might be confusing that release with love. Could that be possible?”

  Cal considered his words. Nope, she decided. She was definitely in love with him. “Sorry, that’s not it.”

  Quinn bent over and stared at his sneakers before tying the laces. “The sex between us is amazing, Red, and we’re good friends. That doesn’t mean we are in love.” Quinn sat u
p and looked at her, his expression determined. “If this is happening, then we need to take a step back, figure out what the hell we’re doing before we make plans and promises that will blow up in our faces.”

  Cal nodded, conscious of the slow bruise forming on her heart. “You still haven’t told me if you love me or not.”

  Quinn stood up and slapped his hands on his hips. He didn’t speak and when Cal finally looked up, she saw fear and confusion in his eyes. “I don’t know, Cal. I don’t know what I feel. This—you—it’s all a bit too much.” He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Let’s think about this, step away from the emotion and consider what we’re doing. What we’re risking.”

  Cal clearly heard what he wanted to say but couldn’t because he didn’t want to hurt her: What you’re doing, what you’re risking.

  He was giving her an out, a way to go back to sex without the messy complication of love.

  Quinn picked up his wallet and cell phone and jammed them into the pockets of his hoodie. “I have a...thing...this evening. You?”

  Cal lifted her chin, knowing damn well he didn’t have plans since they’d discussed seeing a movie tonight. But her pride wouldn’t let him see her disappointment, wouldn’t permit her to ask for anything more. “I have a thing too.”

  Quinn nodded and walked to the side of the bed. Cal kept her face tipped, waiting for his customary see-you-later, open-mouth kiss, but he kissed the top of her head instead.

  It was the age-old, you’re-looking-for-more-than-I-can-give-you brush-off.

  Message received, Quinn. Message received.

  * * *

  A week passed and Cal wasn’t sure why she was at the Mavericks arena midmorning, especially since she had work piling up on her desk back at the foundation. If pressed, she supposed she could say she’d come to talk to Quinn about their upcoming schedules, whether he could attend a theater production with her later in the month. There were a dozen questions she could ask, but nothing that couldn’t be resolved during a two-minute phone call or later that day when they touched base back at home...

  Home. It might be a good idea if she stopped thinking of the yacht in those terms.