She settled her wet opening at the head of his cock, pressing down just enough to tease him with the promise of being swallowed by the tight sheath. “I’m glad we’re on the same page then.”
He grabbed her waist and jerked her down, thrusting his hips to meet her halfway.
Quinn shouted at the delicious invasion, her insides rippling as Braxton rocked her up and she slid back down his cock again. And again.
He cupped her breasts, his fingers rolling and pinching her nipples until she fell into a hard bounce that felt raw and primal, and so very right.
They were right together. The surprising clarity of that fact after such a short time together stunned Quinn so much she froze.
Braxton smiled up at her, rocking his hips against her inner thighs. “Being a tease again?”
She shook her head, afraid to let him see what he did to her. His hand flattened across her back and he hauled her forward. He feasted on her mouth, the possessive sweep of his tongue sizzling the blood in her veins until she was helpless to stop the tidal wave that threatened to consume her.
The precise grip on her hips pushed her down to take him deep within her. He planted his feet and arched up, making the hard muscle grind against her clit until she cried out.
“Yes,” he groaned. “Harder, Quinn.”
She straightened, keeping him trapped beneath her like a feral predator now at her mercy. Slowly, she raised and lowered her hips, his thick length sinking deep to fill her. She reached behind to hold onto his thighs as she increased the tempo, riding harder, rushing towards the release that clipped furiously along her nerve endings.
Braxton slid a hand up the inside of her thigh, his thumb circling her clit. His golden eyes glittered with a primitive satisfaction as he watched her shatter.
And then she was beneath him, knees tucked against his sides as he buried his cock inside her. He moaned against her neck, each savage stroke rocketing her towards an intensity that should have severed her in two.
This time when she came, he shouted his own release within seconds, collapsing on top of her but for the weight he kept on his forearms. He touched his forehead to hers, his kiss impossibly tender despite both their hearts still thundering in their chests.
* * *
Quinn came awake before the screaming started. She stared up at the ceiling, her pulse firing like multiple cannon blasts echoing in the dark. Next to her, Braxton lay stretched out on his stomach, his face relaxed in sleep.Carefully disengaging her legs from the thigh he’d thrown over her at some point, she eased from the bed. She focused first on getting to the bathroom, then rinsing her face with cold water as though it would wash away the nightmare.
She stared hard at her reflection, less than impressed at the fatigue that had dug deep trenches under her eyes. Before she could dwell on that too much, she studied her fully black hair for the first time since it had been dyed. Frowning, she fingered the plain strands, missing the blue streaks she’d favored for almost a year. Yet another thing that had changed.
But this was for Cass. Acknowledging that made the ache in her chest just a little more bearable.
A sound in the background separated from the rest, slipping into the forefront. She closed her eyes, filtering through her senses.
Someone was outside.
Quinn didn’t move until she could pinpoint the trespasser’s location, and then darted into Cass’s room. She slipped along the wall that ran towards the window, and peered down through the dark at the silhouette at the edge of the lawn, tucked under a tree.
She spared a glance at the bedside alarm clock. Three in the morning was definitely not the prime time to borrow sugar.
Ten minutes later Woody still hadn’t moved from his spot. Ballsy little asshole.
Easing back from the window, Quinn yanked on a T-shirt and drawstring pants, grabbing up her shoes from the bottom of the stairs as she went past. After one more cautious check of the yard to make sure Woody hadn’t moved, she let herself out the back.
Sorely tempted to confront the pervert, Quinn opted to spy on him instead and sprinted down through half a dozen backyards in half the time it would have taken Braxton. She’d been thankfully spared from any dogs sleeping outside that might have given her away or any lawns littered with obstacles that would have slowed her down.
Having scaled two fences in seconds, she crouched at the edge of a hedge before finally darting across the street to make her way back towards Woody’s place. He still hadn’t moved by the time she hit his property, heading for his back door. The moron had even left it open for her.
The screen door creaked as she let herself inside. She waited at the threshold just to be certain the man didn’t have a dog she had missed picking up before now. A few more seconds ticked off in her head. Satisfied she was alone in the house, Quinn advanced another few steps, moving on to explore the lower level while keeping an ear open for the sound of approaching steps that would signal Woody’s return.
She noted the Spartan furnishings and plain walls devoid of artwork or even photographs—not to mention no television. What the hell did the man do all day? Cass had already mentioned she’d never known Woody to leave his home that often or talk about a job.
In under a minute she’d soundlessly moved to the second level, giving his bedroom only a sparing look, both thankful and surprised there was nothing that pointed to his deviant side other than a pair of binoculars on the window sill. Right then it would have been nice if subhuman strength had also been one of her gifts along with extraordinary senses. She would have gleefully snapped the ends off.
The last room she checked wasn’t so plain. No expense had been spared in the purchase of every technological toy imaginable. Computers, laptops, digital cameras, recording equipment, police scanners. Two—sometimes three of each—all laid out for easy access. Unlike downstairs, not a spot of dust collected on trim or in hard to reach places. Pristine. Sterile.
Curious, she edged closer, the corner of a paper sticking out from beneath a handheld organizer. The fact that it was paper among a myriad of machines and devices made it all the more obvious. She tugged the corner loose to see what looked like nothing more than the bored swirls of a person doodling while on the phone. At least at first glance. But within the sharp lines and curves, familiar symbols made her study the sheet more intently.
Son of a bitch.
She moved the day planner and found another dozen sketches tucked neatly out of sight.
The crunch of footsteps over gravel penetrated her senses and she checked the window, spotting Woody walking back up his driveway.
Forcing back her anger, she made it back down the stairs and towards the rear door, only to realize the man was coming around that way.
She sprinted for the front, unlocking the door and had it already open before she heard him reach his back door. She reengaged the lock on the handle and pulled it quietly closed.
Focusing on his footsteps, Quinn waited until he was at the opposite end of the house and sprinted back through the same yards, not stopping until she reached Cass’s place.
“Where did you go?”
Braxton stood in the open kitchen door, moonlight casting his face in silvery shadows. He’d yanked his jeans back on, but hadn’t bothered with a shirt. A fact her tired eyes could still appreciate. If she didn’t need to take a minute to catch her breath, she would have thrown her arms around him and kissed him until her insides unlocked.
“You just missed your pal, Woody,” he added, crossing his arms.
She recognized the critical expression on his face—one that hinted at his usual lack of approval—but after the last few hours together she couldn’t find herself remotely annoyed by it. Not even when the militant stance warned her he wasn’t happy that she’d ventured off alone and he wouldn’t hesitate to tell her that.
“You mean my pal, the demon-gopher?”
Braxton looked confused.
Quinn shrugged, her breaths coming easier now. “I figured if he
could trespass so could I.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I might have lost my opportunity if I stopped to drag you out of bed. I barely got out of there as it was.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
And that last comment didn’t help her case at all.
Preferring to avoid a confrontation on the subject, Quinn tried to slip past him into the kitchen. He didn’t budge from the doorway.
“Are we in this together, or not?”
She resisted the urge to answer, “you tell me” and did her best to look unruffled. “If I was on assignment by myself it would be perfectly acceptable to take the risk I just did. Hell, we’ve all been in much worse situations than that.”
“With someone watching our backs.”
Or someone like Braxton making sure she stuck to the playbook. “I’m fine.”
“Given your impulsive nature I guess I should be grateful you didn’t confront him after finding something that convinced you he’s a potential bottom-feeder for our favorite hostiles.”
“If we try to scare him now then we won’t get a hold of his demon bud.” And she wouldn’t get to kick said storm demon’s ass.
He snorted. “Love your use of ‘we’ now.”
“I thought you might.” She grinned, finding herself leaning into him.
“Why do I get the impression you already have a plan?”
“Can’t get nothing past you,” she quipped, then ducked under his arm.
He followed her inside, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an aborted smile. “So what is your plan?”
“You’re leaving.”
Braxton stared at her. “Come again?”
She snagged a bottle of water from the fridge and took a long drink. “You’re packing your bags.”
He hitched a hip against the counter, trying hard to get a fix on her. “Quinn, if this is about what happened between us—”
He didn’t get another syllable out before she was in his arms, her mouth slanting across his. The hand she pressed against his chest curled over his heart. He parted his lips, inviting her deeper, groaning into her mouth when she stroked her tongue across his.
When she finally drew back, he wanted nothing more than to toss her up on the counter and have her again.
Nothing but pure, feminine contentment reflected in her eyes. “I have zero complaints in that department.”
Reassured—somewhat—Braxton lingered over her mouth just another second, thoroughly exploring the silky warmth before forcing his head back in the game.
“So why am I packing?”
“To make Woody think you are leaving.”
“And then?”
“When he thinks I’m alone and vulnerable, he may make another move.” The edge to her voice turned from smoky to deadly.
“Where will I be when he makes this move?” And there was only one answer to that as far as he was concerned.
“Right here with me.”
“Have you also got it figured out how I’m sneaking back in here without him noticing?”
“Woody will be rather preoccupied with his binoculars.” Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she surveyed his bare chest with interest. “But that’s for us to deal with tomorrow.”
“And until then?”
She slipped a hand down to unsnap his jeans. “I think we’ll figure something out.”
* * *
“Tell me you’re not naked in there.” Braxton lingered outside the bathroom where the dark hallway masked his presence.Light spilled from the small room and he could only glimpse the length of Quinn’s leg resting along the lip of the clawfoot tub.
“Yeah, I’m wearing my bikini,” she mocked. “The point was to distract him so he didn’t notice you sneaking back in here.”
“Which may be completely moot if his demon pal is nearby and spotted me.” The same risk they’d run letting Cass come back for her things.
“If there was one close enough to keep an eye on the house, we’d both know it. Or at the very least your snazzy little tracker would tell us.”
The soft splash of water had Braxton envisioning Quinn slowly soaping her body. He cleared his throat to work past the sudden tightness there, but nothing helped the throbbing that started behind the seam of his pants. “Hey, that tracker has saved your ass.”
“That tracker has also almost gotten me killed. Nothing like sneaking up on your prey and having it malfunction and screech like a damn banshee on ecstasy.”
“They’re still a work in progress.” He leaned against the door and caught a glimpse of her fingers trailing sensuously up the inside of her thigh. For Woody’s benefit or his? “How much longer are you planning on staying in there?”
“Well, now that you’re back and in one piece…”
He heard her pull the plug. Not surprisingly, he didn’t move an inch, riveted, when she emerged from the bathroom moments later in nothing but a skimpy towel that didn’t meet the whole way around.
This, he knew without a doubt, was purely meant to drive him out of his mind.
She switched off the light, plunging the hallway into blackness.
He could let her carry on to Cass’s room, but as she passed he snaked out a hand to catch her around the waist, and jerked her against him.
Her superior reflexes kicked in and she pivoted, flattening him against the wall instead. “Disappointed you missed most of the show?”
“Did I?” Braxton tugged at the fabric until her breasts were free…accessible.
Her breath hissed out, her nipples hardening. He could only guess if it was from the cooler air or the need that ran so close to the surface between them. He slid his hands under the towel and up over her bottom, cupping the soft cheeks.
She shivered in his arms. “This must be the start of the second act.”
Her skin was still damp from the bath, and as his fingers traced the seam that curved to her sex, he knew he skated on the sharp edge of his limits. “Nah, just the intermission.”
“Tease.” She growled when he flicked his tongue out to catch a dusky nipple, sampling the tight ridges with his mouth.
He probed deeper along her folds from behind, sliding through her wetness. “Just wait until I really get started.” Knowing if he didn’t stop now he wouldn’t, Braxton forced himself to let go of her. “I’ll be downstairs.”
She scowled at him playfully then disappeared into Cass’s room.
As usual she didn’t take long to change, joining him in Cass’s living room before he’d begun to get comfortable for the coming wait.
Once Quinn had described the nature of the drawings she’d discovered in Woody’s office, he’d contacted Rae. It hadn’t taken her long to get back to them with the theory there might be another player—a telepath demon. One that might have forged a link with Woody. According to Royce, the scribbled drawings might be an outlet for Woody when the parasitic link stimulated too many nerve endings.
Quinn hovered in the doorway, both daggers strapped to her thighs, her sword at her side. She was clearly looking to put a hurt on someone since she rarely used both weapons. Not that he blamed her. If a Shadow Demon had gone after one of his sisters, he wouldn’t have been satisfied with anything less than disemboweling the creature.
She paced for a moment, then, realizing it was better to sit than track an impatient path back and forth in front of the window, dropped down next to him on the couch.
He noticed her studying the hilt of her sword intently. “Something wrong with it?”
She shook her head, the perplexed look on her face way too sexy after their all-to-brief interlude minutes ago. “It was in my dream last night.”
“Can’t say I haven’t dreamt about my sword a time or two.”
She continued to scrutinize the sword. “This was different. Like it wasn’t really mine.”
“Have you and Royce talked about the nightmares?”
“Brilliant doctor that he is thinks it might b
e stress related.” She slumped back against the cushions.
“Are you stressed?”
Quinn drew the sword through the air, tracing an invisible pattern that suspiciously reminded him of decapitating a demon. “Not until the nightmares started.” She ran her finger around the hilt. “They’re getting worse, though. More intense, more vivid.”
Since this was the most receptive she’d been to talking about them, he decided to go with it. “Any luck remembering more when you wake up?”
“What I see never makes any sense. Like someone dumped a jigsaw puzzle into my lap and I’m supposed to figure out what the whole picture looks like using only a few pieces.” She turned in his direction, the dark casting her face in shadows. “We might be here all night,” she whispered, reminding him if they talked for much longer they ran the risk of their trap being exposed before they had a chance to spring it.
“I don’t have any place else to be.”
She laughed softly. “I’m glad it was you who came, Brax. Having you here when everything has been so crazy…” Quinn leaned her head against his shoulder, their fingers linked—though he wasn’t sure which of them had initiated the simple connection that was so much more than that.
“This thing between us,” she said tentatively, “right now it’s the only thing in my life that feels…real.”
She angled her face to look up at him, and the stab of guilt that knifed him in the gut almost made him flinch. He ached to tell her the truth. Wanted to tell her that there was another incredible time between them she couldn’t remember. A time she’d trusted him to tell her about if the infection robbed her of the memory.
For weeks he’d convinced himself giving in that night had been a mistake. Something that would strain their professional relationship. A laugh now when he was forced to realize they’d barely had one after he’d driven an even wider divide between them.
Braxton ran his thumb along the edge of her palm, wishing that telling her wasn’t so complicated. He knew the longer he didn’t tell her, the more damage it would do in the end. He’d rather take a direct hit from Slice or Dice than hurt her, but right now the truth was that what felt real between them was based on one hell of an omission. One hell of a lie. For the first time in months Quinn was really opening up to him, relying on him. Trusting him the same way she used to. How could he be honest now when it would mean destroying that trust between them?
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