Stripped Away

by Sydney Somers

  The head of his cock nestled against her sex, his muscles straining with the need to possess her once and for all.

  “Now, Braxton.”

  The harsh plea shattered him and he thrust into her, closing the distance between them to catch the cry of pleasure ripped from her mouth. He withdrew and slammed back inside her again, burying his cock deep.

  Quinn panted against his mouth, her choppy breaths matching his as he slowly pumped in and out of her sex, then faster, unable to ease the ferocious hunger pulsing through him. He ground his pelvis against hers, a primal satisfaction burning through his gut when she cried out, her sex exploding in sweet spasms that gloved the length of his shaft.

  Groaning, his fingers bit into her ass, shifting to deepen the penetration. He knew the second he hit the right spot by the way her eyes shot open, her glittering turquoise depths locking onto him.

  “Brax…”

  He pressed his face against her throat, the hot edge of release skimming down his backbone.

  “Harder,” she demanded, the desperation in her voice echoing his own.

  As he sank into her tight opening one final time, shoving them both over the edge, Braxton knew that this would change everything.

  And it scared the hell out of him.

  Chapter One

  Two Months Later

  The sound of her own scream woke her.Quinn bolted upright, fighting an invisible enemy. Her heart bashed the inside of her ribs and she kicked at the sheets tangled around her legs. She hit the floor with a jarring impact, and regained her footing in the next instant, sweeping a sharp gaze around the room.

  She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. Another nightmare. Fuck. She sat down and pushed back the sweaty hair tangled around her face, her hands still trembling.

  Talking to the agency shrink obviously wasn’t getting her anywhere. Just her luck that they had their customary post-assignment session scheduled for tomorrow. She glanced at the clock. Make that later today.

  The first rays of dawn peeked through the middle of the drapes she’d yanked together before falling into bed last night. She wasn’t in the mood for a sunny morning today. Rain would be a better fit. It had been raining in her nightmare. One of the few details that lingered after the other images faded. Maybe a little sun wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  With the same grim determination she’d clung to since the recurring nightmares started two months ago, she headed for the bathroom, stripping out of her usual nighttime wear of a T-shirt and panties. She couldn’t get warm enough as she stepped under the spray. An invisible chill crawled under her skin and even cranking the faucet until she whimpered from the hot water didn’t release the icy tension grappled around her muscles.

  Hell of a way to start the day.

  By the time she dried off and dressed, stuffed a change of clothes in her duffle bag and downed a bottle of Mountain Dew, she was halfway to normal. On the way out the door, she dialed Jordan to see if the other agent was up for some time in the training room before debriefing.

  A half-stale bagel still tucked in a crumpled zip-lock bag became a quick breakfast. As usual, she let her thoughts drift as she navigated the morning traffic, cranking the radio up until the hard wails of Nickelback threatened to shatter the windshield. Loud music was a blessing. It helped drown out all the voices and sounds that sometimes overwhelmed her heightened senses—all thanks to the gift she came away with after a near fatal brush with a stealth demon.

  The whole violent encounter aside—one she never thought about unless she had to—it had been one of those life-changing moments. Rather like seeing those poor saps on televised evangelical shows where one touch from the hand of some preacher rocked their world. Somehow Quinn doubted their experiences were quite so life-altering as her own.

  The small investment firm that doubled as a front company for their center of operations lent a somber, yet professional outward appearance that would never lead anyone to believe it was but one of dozens of field offices within the secretive Shadow Destroyer network. A group that was a little too secretive in Quinn’s opinion. Outside of their immediate superior, Rae, and a handful of other agents she’d crossed paths with while on assignment, everyone else within the network was unknown to her.

  The small underground garage required only a keycard at its outward entrance. She fished through her bag and came up empty. One she’d apparently left at home. Wonderful.

  Shooting a hope upward that Braxton wouldn’t be the one to answer the call, she hit the button next to the slot on the gate. A few seconds passed, and then the gate lifted without whoever was on the other end lobbing a sarcastic barb about her forgetting the damn card again.

  Hoping it was Jordan who let her through, Quinn parked in her usual spot and made it to the elevator only to realize she’d left her duffle bag in the back of the car. She turned around to go back and came up short as a familiar candy-apple red Mustang came around the corner.

  Quinn spun on her heel and strode for the elevator. She could go back for her bag later. Later when Braxton wasn’t parking right next to her car. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she’d started avoiding him. Not that she had any issues with him, except that over the past few weeks he’d made it increasingly clear her very presence annoyed the hell out of him. Once upon a time that small slice of knowledge might have brightened her day and made her seek him out just to gleefully push his buttons. Given that his usual scowl had taken on a hard edge, she found herself more than happy to steer clear.

  And it certainly didn’t help that despite his shitty attitude, every now and then a particularly hot dream woke her in the middle of the night, proving that she still had a thing for him whether he was a total asshole or not.

  She punched the button on the elevator, cursing the slow-ass contraption, aware of every movement Braxton made as he drained the last of his coffee, tucked his sunglasses back in their spot atop the visor, then got out of the car. So much for avoiding boxing herself in with him first thing in the morning.He spared her little more than a nod as they waited for the elevator. This morning his brown hair was mussed from the habit he had of dragging his hand through it, his haunting golden eyes fixed on the elevator’s outer doors. The scent of his soap wafted along her heightened senses, the smell teasing at the back of her memory the way it had for the last two months. As if she’d all but tasted it herself.

  “How was Mexico?” she asked as they moved into the elevator and she completed the retinal scan that would give them access to the main floor of their field office. Anything to keep herself from recalling the tantalizing fantasy of them being trapped in here together, one she’d indulged in on and off over the last twenty-five months. But then that was before Braxton started letting someone shove a tent pole up his ass every morning.

  “Warm,” he finally answered, finding the grout of the tile floor infinitely more interesting than her.

  Right. And just like that, what little good mood had been restored after her nightmare dried up.

  Quinn crossed her arms and did her best to ignore that she had to breathe the same air as someone who had once at least tolerated having her around. The only saving grace was that she’d been spared from much of his attitude since they’d only been partnered on a few assignments in recent weeks.

  Though he’d denied that she’d done anything to embarrass either one of them when she’d been infected by a lust demon, she wasn’t certain she believed him. Within days of that night, his attitude had begun to change towards her. Only one time had she demanded to know if she’d foolishly come on too strong, desperate to reassure herself she hadn’t said something that would make it uncomfortable to work together. Like how much she wanted him, had wanted him since they’d started working together.

  In true Braxton fashion he’d politely said there was nothing to worry about, that she hadn’t lost control the way she’d feared and had slept the worst of it off. If he had met her gaze at any point during the entire conversatio
n she might not have lingering doubts that she’d done something that night that had changed things between them.

  A few times since then she’d started to broach the subject again only to change her mind. Given that she couldn’t remember much about that night, part of her was afraid to find out what she might have to done to make him distance himself. The other part was determined not to care what Braxton’s problem was.

  Quinn registered the soft click in the back of her mind, knew it came from farther up the shaft. A second later the elevator jolted to a stop. Which wasn’t anything more than an annoyance—until the lights blinked out.

  Her eyes adjusted instantly, but the dark still pressed in on her, made all the worse by the knowledge she was in a small box, probably trapped between floors. Dim emergency lights clicked on, but did nothing to soothe the rapid fire pace of her heart.

  “What’s going on?” Her jaw ached from the force of holding back the panic wedged in her throat. Nothing was lit up on the panel to indicate what floor they were on. Instead of feet separating her from the walls, the distance shrank to inches in her mind. A cold sweat broke out down her spine and dampened her palms. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and closed her eyes to feign the illusion she was in a big room.

  “It’s just maintenance work. I remember Rae saying something about it.”

  “Shouldn’t they make sure no one is inside before they fuck around?”

  “Quinn?”

  She ignored the penetrating stare Braxton aimed at her, not finding the amber depths distracting enough to get her past the unexpected bout of claustrophobia triggered by the dark. Until two months ago, right when the nightmares started, she’d never felt the least bit uncomfortable in the elevator. Having the lights out wasn’t helping matters any. A tapping she doubted Braxton could hear started somewhere up the shaft, and with every grating strike of metal against metal, an unease she couldn’t explain slithered down her backbone.

  She snatched up the emergency phone, saw her hand shake, and thrust it at Braxton. “Tell them to stop whatever they’re doing and let us out.”

  He did as she asked, but not without another probing look that told her he was fishing for what was going through her mind. She didn’t even bother to tell him to knock it off. She wanted out, and the longer she studied the roof tiles, the more appealing they were looking as a means of escape. Climbing up the shaft was movement, not being in here—trapped. Alone.

  But she wasn’t alone. She clenched her fists at her sides and tried to reassure herself she was fine. This was fine. Brax was with her.

  Brax who couldn’t stand her. Hell, she was probably better off alone.

  A bitter laugh trickled over the fear that coated her tongue, and Braxton arched a brow. Having replaced the phone he had nothing to do but watch her.“Something going on with you lately?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she said without looking at him, stabbing the still unlit buttons just for good measure.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. How long until this death crate moves?”

  “They said a few minutes.”

  Might as well have been a few hours. She needed to focus. All around her she could feel the four walls creeping closer. Her heart thundered like a Kentucky Derby thoroughbred tearing up the track.

  Braxton lifted a hand and she instinctively pulled back from his touch. She snapped her gaze to his, fighting not to lose it.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “I know.” And she did know it, but fuck she wanted out of this box. She eyed the ceiling tiles again.

  “You’re not thinking about—” He caught her hand this time. “You’re shaking.”

  The warmth from his hand spread over her wrist and up her arm.

  “I don’t like this.” Admitting even that much was hard.

  He started to let go of her. “Don’t like what?”

  She grabbed hold of his hand—an anchor for her now. Distraction. She needed to focus on something until the elevator got moving. The clicks and snaps of the maintenance worker ticked in her eardrum like a bomb. Braxton was all she had and the adrenaline whooshing through her system brought the first thought right to her lips.

  “What did I do?”

  He frowned.

  “What did I do that you suddenly found it hard to be around me?”

  When he didn’t respond right away, she tightened her grip. “I want to know what changed things. Why we can’t be in the same room anymore without you glaring at me and meaning it?”

  “I didn’t mean it before?” The teasing comment was a transparent attempt to avoid answering the question.

  Another loud creak up the shaft had her closing her eyes. A wave of nausea hit her hard and she pressed her lips together. She had to get out of here. She moved away from him and into the corner of the elevator where she could use the railings to give her a little boost up.

  “Don’t.” Braxton reached for her.

  She pushed him away. The walls eased closer and she could hear her own panicked whimpers in the back of her mind. “I can’t stay in here.”

  “Slow down. Talk to me, Quinn. Tell me what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t breathe, I can’t think in here.” Her back hit the wall, the smooth finish almost hot against her rapidly cooling skin. She splayed a palm against the wall, cringing at how close it felt. Her knees quivered, threatening to give out and dump her to the floor.

  “Easy.” He lowered his voice and for a moment the soothing tone penetrated the thick fog that made it impossible to think beyond the fact it was dark and she couldn’t move more than a few feet in any direction.

  What was happening to her?

  Braxton slid an arm around her back, drawing her closer.

  She bit her lip against the sigh of relief that tore through her, and buried her face against the strong column of his throat. His arms locked around her, making her feel safe. Protected.

  That should have been a laugh. She’d been on her own long enough that she hadn’t thought she needed to feel protected.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured against her hair, the gesture so familiar she might have dreamed this before. He rubbed her back in lazy circles. “Tell me what’s happening with you Quinn.”

  “I don’t know,” she managed, her throat too tight to get any more words past without making it obvious how close to tears she was.

  The lights flickered on full and the elevator resumed its climb. Her heart slowed, but she didn’t loosen her hold on him, didn’t let him back away either.

  The doors chimed and slid open on their floor, but she didn’t move. Nothing should have stopped her from flying straight out of there and embracing a wider space. Nothing save how good it felt tucked in his arms.

  He didn’t force her away, and her pulse ticked off the seconds as she waited for exactly that. Waited for him to act as though holding her was the worst sort of chore. Instead, he slowed the lazy circles, but didn’t stop.

  Quinn tipped her face back, her breath still fast and shallow. His finger brushed her cheek as he tucked her hair behind her ear. She could feel each plane of skin and muscle pressed intimately against hers, feel it warming her straight through.

  “You okay?” The question slid out in a tone she didn’t recognize. His dark amber gaze traveled over her face, nothing resembling the customary cynicism that he reserved just for her lately present.

  “I’m better now.” How could she not be? She was in his arms, and not there just long enough to be tossed right over his shoulder from their sparring days.

  She studied the shadowed jaw he was content not to shave more than every few days. Full lips parted, his breath warm on her cheek. Her insides knotted but for completely different reasons than moments ago. The palm against her back tightened, his fingertips sinking into her skin with enough pressure to make her aware of the way his attention had dropped to her mouth.

  The urge to close her ey
es and push up on her toes to meet his lips swirled through her.

  “Sorry about that.” The unfamiliar voice pushed them apart as the maintenance guy studied his clipboard as they stepped hastily onto the main floor. Quinn wasn’t sure if she imagined the soft squeeze of Braxton’s fingers over her hip before he put distance between them.

  With no further explanation, the man disappeared into the elevator, leaving them alone once more. Her gaze wandered to the overhead numbers lighting up as the elevator descended. What had happened in there? She had never freaked like that before, never felt so vulnerable.

  “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  She didn’t need to look at him to know the tender side had vanished back under his usual detached demeanor, and she allowed herself a moment to mourn the loss. Then she squared her shoulders, buried the need to go back to how they’d been seconds ago, and spun on her heel.

  “I’ll see you at the debriefing.”

  * * *

  “How was your last assignment?”Braxton processed the question in the back of his mind, continuing to second-guess himself and whether he should have gone after Quinn.

  The creak of stiff leather and the patient—but nosey—therapist sitting across from him forced Brax’s thoughts back to the present. Away from how Quinn had clung to him, away from how much he’d realized he wanted to hold her. Kiss her. Tell her everything, including how much he wished things could be different.

  But they were…what they were. At any given moment they could be sent halfway across the globe, tracking down and vanquishing the Shadow Demons that opened the gateways between realms. There wasn’t time for relationships. He didn’t even want one.

  Probably in denial there, he mused silently. That didn’t change the fact that even though he and Quinn had one incredible night together, a night she didn’t remember, things could never be more than that. Even before his lapse in judgment the night she’d been infected by the lust demon, he knew the friends-with-benefits dynamic would never work between him and Quinn. Not even if he were willing to ignore his responsibilities, his commitment to Rae and his team. Gage and Jordan worked as a couple because they had a history before they became Destroyers. They also didn’t have the issue of seniority to complicate things. He didn’t have that luxury.