by Lily Harlem
“This is perfect,” I said with a grateful flood of relief. “I’ll have to go and thank him.”
“Not now you can’t.”
“Why?”
“He’s in his office.”
“I’ll only take a second.”
“You can’t disturb Liam once he gets immersed in work. He’s like Jekyll and Hyde. All cute and friendly when he’s away from the computer but the minute he gets his creative head on you can’t go near him.” Quinn leaned closer and dropped his voice to a low growl. “He’ll bite your head off, Ariane, and I don’t think you’d like that part of you being bitten, not by Liam.”
I pulled the duvet up to my chin, acutely aware that I was wearing only my bra and knickers, and a strange man was sitting on the bed talking about me being bitten.
Quinn, on the other hand, seemed to delight in the situation and dropped his eyes as though he could see through the bed linens. I felt vulnerable and excited all at the same time as he licked his lips and a muscle flexed in his cheek. Whilst Liam had the look of a Hollywood hunk, all blond and tanned with a full wattage smile and the buff body of a god, Quinn had an aura of sin about him. He was olive-skinned with a mop of raven hair, he had blacker than black eyes and a heavy sprinkle of stubble around his chiselled jawline. He wasn’t as thickset as Liam, he looked leaner, taller, more refined, though of course this was a guess since he was wearing a pristine charcoal suit and I couldn’t really be sure what lay beneath. I glanced at his hands resting on the pink duvet cover. He had short, square nails but his fingers were long and elegant and he’d knotted them in a controlled, patient manner.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, his heavy-lidded eyes drifting back up to my face. “I’m starving, I’ve been in theater all day.”
Something told me he was hungry, but with a pop of nervous excitement I realized it wasn’t for food. “Yeah, I guess,” I said, swallowing tightly. It didn’t seem that long since the temptation to invite Liam into my bed had washed over me and now I was looking at Quinn and thinking how damn close he was, how much I liked that proximity and how I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed either.
“Then get dressed and I’ll take you out.” Quinn unfolded his long frame and tossed another smaller bag at me. “Underwear and toiletries,” he said. “I bought these for you on the way home.”
“I, er…thanks.”
“I think you’ll find the sizes correct.”
I opened my mouth to ask how he knew, but something stopped me and instead I watched him square his shoulders and turn to the door. “Take your time,” he said, pulling at the handle. “Have a shower or perhaps a bath. Bay restaurants are open ’til late.”
As soon as the door clicked shut I tipped out the bag he’d handed me. Underwear in Quinn’s world consisted of seven size six thongs, all lace and covering the entire rainbow spectrum of colors. The toiletries were nice, too nice—Clarins, Body Shop, a load of Yves Saint Laurent makeup and a big, chunky hairbrush. No one had ever spent so much money on me in one day. I may have left everything behind, but suddenly I had a whole lot of much cooler stuff.
I slid out of bed and padded into the en-suite. It was compact but functional with a bath, shower, loo and sink. One wall was completely mirrored and there was a small cabinet—empty.
I decided to have a bath. It would do me good to soak my limbs. I set the faucet on full and dolloped in a generous amount of shea butter bubbles. Within seconds the room was foggy and damp with fragrant steam. I stripped out of my underwear, knotted up my hair and sank into the hot, milky water.
“Ariane.”
I swivelled, took in a sharp breath and quickly crossed my hands over my bare breasts. Quinn stood in the doorway holding out a white mug.
“Here,” he said. His eyes were steady on mine as though willing himself not to look at my nakedness. “I thought you might like a coffee before we go out.”
“I, er, yes, thanks.” I swallowed and my heart rate increased. He’d stripped to just his suit trousers, but unlike him I couldn’t train my eyes on just his face. I took in his wide shoulders, neat pecs sprinkled with just the right amount of coiled, black hair and his trim waistline. There was a hint of a six-pack before the neat row of hair travelled to his belt buckle and then disappeared temptingly. My artistic eye took over and I thought how much I’d like to paint his naked torso.
He stepped into the bathroom and I drew up my knees with a quiet splosh. I should be telling him to get out, demanding to know what sort of way he was brought up to think it okay to barge in on a lady bathing. But I couldn’t. There was something about Quinn that was magnetic. The way he moved, the way he looked at me, it was fascinating. I found myself drawn to him, drawn to the sexy aura that bounced around him. It sent blood racing to my breasts and created a heavy ache in my pelvis.
“Thanks,” I said as he set the mug down on the side of the bath.
“Don’t mention it.” Now, I noticed, his eyes dropped to my upper body. It was as though he needed me to look at him first to gain permission to study me. I saw a flash of inquisitiveness and knew he wanted to know what my arms were hiding. But hell, he was a doctor, he must have seen hundreds of breasts before. What did I have different to anything else he’d ever seen?
I removed my forearms and reached forward for the drink. My breasts instantly regained their roundness from where I’d flattened them and I could feel my nipples hardening, twisting to tight points.
I heard his breath hitch as I took a sip of the delightfully rich coffee. I don’t think he’d expected me to give anything away. He poked out his tongue and licked his bottom lip as he straightened. “I’ll shower now you’ve finished running water,” he said, his accent a little stronger than before. “See you in a while.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling a sudden sense of power over this apparently fiercely self-controlled man. The way his pupils had dilated as he studied me and the action of his tongue confirmed what I’d thought earlier, he was hungry for me, which was just as well because I was hungry for him. Lust at first sight was rare in my world but today, for the first time in my twenty-eight years, I’d met two men who were both hotter than hot. It was doing strange things to my poor, neglected body and there was something in me building that sooner or later would have to be satisfied.
“Ariane,” Quinn said as he reached the door.
“Yes.” I looked over my shoulder at him.
“Liam was right when he told me you were gorgeous.” His brows lowered. “You are divine, and I’m so glad you answered our ad.”
“Me too,” I said with a smile. “Me too, Quinn.”
Quinn took me to a fabulous French restaurant with a view of the lively marina. He insisted I sit facing the bobbing white yachts and watch the wash of oranges, pinks and purples the setting sun created over the bay. He ordered champagne and requested a selection of the chef’s best dishes for us to share—all of which were delicious.
“Have you and Liam been friends long?” I asked, popping in a gooey petit four and feeling my mouth water for more the second I swallowed it.
“Four years this month.”
I raised my brows, surprised that Quinn knew it to the month. “How did you meet?”
He took a sip of champagne and then wiped the corners of his mouth with a white linen serviette. “He was in America. In New York.”
“Is that where you’re from? New York?”
“No, Boston. But I was working in Manhattan at the time.”
“And Liam was what? On holiday or business?”
“Something like that.” He carefully refolded his serviette and flattened it on the side of the table.
“And you hit it off straightaway.”
“Not straightaway, it took a while, but he was a good friend when I needed one and that’s what counts.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re a good friend too. He must think a lot of you if you’ve invested in property and live together.”
“Yeah, there’s a mutual respect th
ere.” Quinn nodded thoughtfully and then the side of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “He’s a great guy to share with.”
I drained my champagne and the attentive waiter quickly topped up the glass. Quinn waved his hand over the top of his, refusing more. As I watched bubbles race to the surface of my flute I knew there was one question I had to ask. It couldn’t be put off any longer. “And what about girls?” I braced for disappointment, fully expecting to hear there were two gorgeous, supermodel-type girlfriends on the scene who I’d never be able to compete with. “Has either of you got a girlfriend I’ll meet whilst I’m staying with you?”
Quinn’s smile dropped. He looked at me. His eyes were so dark there was no distinct line between the pupil and iris, and the depths flashed like the black lava at the base of a volcano. “No girls,” he said quietly. He pushed a hand through his turf of short dark hair and rubbed at the nape of his neck.
“I find that hard to believe.” I smiled though I was aware it was a nervous smile, and I couldn’t help fiddling with the stem of my glass.
“Believe it.” He reached forward and his long, elegant fingers touched the tips of mine. “There haven’t been girls in either of our lives for a long time, too long.”
“But why, you’re both…” I paused, not wanting to use the words “drop-dead gorgeous”. “Good-looking, successful…”
“Our lifestyles, or rather work, has meant meeting people is hard.” He shook his head as if disagreeing with himself. “No, that’s not what I meant. Liam’s lifestyle makes meeting people hard. He works from home, he prefers it now, and although I meet plenty of people, being on call makes it pretty impossible to be relied upon, you know, for dates and stuff.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand very, very lightly. “Being out with a pretty woman and finishing a meal, actually reaching the dessert menu, is extremely rare. I usually have to cancel, or race off.” He moved his fingers from mine and reached into his trouser pocket. “Because of this thing.” He withdrew a small black box and tipped it my way to show me a small illuminated screen.
“What is it?” My skin missed his gentle but somehow possessive touch.
“A pager. My team can get hold of me anytime, anyplace. I don’t like to be more than fifteen minutes from the neuro ward, and if they need me, if a patient needs me, then that takes priority over everything, including a date.” He shrugged. “I gave up dating some time ago.”
“Can’t your team give you a night off once in a while?”
Quinn dropped the pager back into his pocket. “In theory, but I’m the first to admit I’m a control freak, I like to be there, checking ICPs, monitoring neurological functions, and if anyone needs their cranium opened then ultimately it’s my responsibility.”
“So you could give up some of the burden on your shoulders? If you wanted to.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t live with myself if someone died and maybe I could’ve prevented it. I’m the top of my game, I take calculated risks other neurosurgeons don’t because I’ve done it before, seen it before.” He leaned over the table. “Can you imagine what it’s like, Ariane, to be the best of the best, to get to heal people, bring them back from the brink of death?”
I shook my head.
“It’s amazing, a real high, a buzz beyond belief, as exhilarating as sex, which is of course ironic, because I could never give it up, not even for a woman, which has always meant it’s one or the other for me, sex or work.”
Hearing Quinn say the word sex in his smooth American accent and with a dirty twinkle in his eye had me pressing my thighs together. “But what kind of woman would expect you to?” I managed through my blur. “Give up work?”
“All of the women I’ve ever met.” He dropped his brows low, making me wonder what had occurred in his past. “It’s why I haven’t bothered for so long, but…” He reached out for my hand again and this time held it tighter. “But now,” he said quietly, “you’re here.”
Chapter Three
The sun had slipped into the sea by the time Quinn and I arrived back at the apartment. I felt pleasantly tipsy and perfectly full from my French food extravaganza. My head was filled with what might happen now we were back. The sexual tension between us had spiralled to a dizzy height as the lift had climbed to the penthouse apartment.
“So tell me about this Jed character,” Quinn said, stepping into the kitchen. There’d been no sign of Liam since we arrived back.
“Do I have to?” My body deflated at the thought of Jed. A damn shame considering I’d been buzzing quite nicely.
“Liam filled me in on most of it, but I’d like to hear it from you.” Quinn checked the kettle and tapped it on. I studied his bum in his neat black trousers. “I want to know what the creep did to you.”
I sat down at the island and kicked off my stilettos, which I’d teamed with the navy jeans and one of the soft, long-sleeved tops. With the silver cross necklace I always wore it had been just about suitable for a French restaurant. “Do I have to?” I asked, pushing my hair back from my face and sighing. “I’ve had such a nice evening I’d rather not spoil it by talking about him.”
Quinn turned, cocked his head and looked at me thoughtfully. “I guess we don’t have to talk about him right now…” His eyes narrowed. “Not if there’s something else you want to talk about…or do.”
I felt a tremble in my belly at the hidden undercurrents in his words. I gave a half-smile and a twitch of my brow.
He walked toward me with a determined glint in his eye and steely confidence in his stride. He drew next to me, close, real close. I caught my breath. “Damn it, you’re irresistible,” he husked.
The next thing I knew he’d plucked me off the stool and pulled me against his hard chest. I was instantly bathed in the warmth of his body and inhaled his spiced aftershave mingled with raw masculinity. I looked up, his face was dark with desire, his lips parted and moist. I curled my fingers over his shoulders and went on tiptoes.
He bent his head and caught my lips in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. I gasped at the burning intensity. He swallowed the sound as his tongue began a crazy dance with mine. He was lethal, no woman could arm herself against Quinn’s devastating brand of kissing.
His arms wrapped around me and I felt his erection prod my stomach as our bodies squeezed together. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated from his belly. He ground against me again, increasing the friction between us and groaned some more.
My head spun with lust and champagne. Suddenly Quinn was the only person in the world, the universe. He pulled away an inch and his hand tugged at my jean buttons. I felt him delve between denim and my quivering flesh. I kissed him harder, encouraged him on. I needed him to touch me like I needed to breathe. I shoved at my jeans to make his journey easier and they rucked at my thighs along with my new cerise thong.
Then, with a sudden surge of power and without taking his lips from mine, he hoisted me onto the island.
I drew a sharp intake of breath. The marble was cold on my bare butt. He leaned over and I grasped him for purchase as his determined fingers slipped toward my pussy. I tried to spread my legs but was restricted by half-mast jeans. It didn’t matter. Quinn was shoved between my knees and his fingers were making fast work of separating my lips and searching out my entrance. I felt him probing with two long fingers, just for a second, and then he plunged in, smooth and fast, hard and urgent. I opened my mouth in a silent exclamation and became aware of my heart thudding in my ears as loud as any drum.
“Jeez, you feel so hot, so damn hot and so tight,” Quinn panted into my mouth, his voice deep and sinful. “I knew you would, I knew you’d feel amazing, Ariane.” He pulled his body up and looked down, his eyes glazed with lust. I followed his line of sight and we both watched as his fingers disappeared into my black curls, pulled out and then vanished again.
Watching him penetrate me had me instantly ready to burst. I could see my moisture coating his skin, hear myself becoming so
wet that with each pump of his beautiful fingers small juicy noises filled the air along with my sweet, aroused scent. I clenched around him and he treated me to a third finger as his thumb finally circled my clit. I cried out at the stretching, impaling sensation and the firm pressure where I needed it most. He caught me again in another one of his lethal kisses and the sound became a muffled groan.
“Come, Ariane, come for me,” he murmured after several delicious rotations of his thumb.
I shut my eyes, lost, and began to ride his hand as he worked faster and faster. My breathing came in ragged spurts and my toes and fingers curled. I felt myself climbing up to the exquisite bliss of the first climax I’d claimed in months.
Suddenly I was there. I exploded and shouted out his name. My body jerked and my spine arched. Quinn wrapped his free hand around my shoulders, held me tight as he continued to drive into me, eking out every last tremor of my glorious release. I felt another surge of wetness as my internal muscles pumped around his wickedly expert hand, and then I was panting, desperate for air and looking up at his face silhouetted by the bright ceiling light.
He was staring at me, not smiling, just wide-eyed. “Stunning,” he said. “You’re so responsive, so delectably reactive I can hardly believe it.”
“It’s been quite a while,” I confessed, dragging in lungfuls of oxygen and becoming aware once more of my surroundings. The marble really was hard and very cold on my naked behind.
Suddenly another deep, male voice ricocheted around the kitchen and invaded our private moment. “Glad you two are getting on so well.”
I looked around Quinn’s shoulder at the kitchen doorway. Liam stood, arms folded, feet apart, as he surveyed us draped over the marble island he’d designed.
“Hey,” Quinn said, turning but making no move to take his fingers from inside me.
My heart leapt and I pushed frantically against him. Prickles of mortification swept through the very core of my being as I squirmed and finally rid myself of his invasion. I slid ungracefully from the island and tugged up my jeans. I heard a whimper of embarrassment escape my lips, squeezed shut my eyes and prepared to take flight.
