A reminder of the world he belonged to.
Her things were still outside in the car. Quinn went into the large adjoining bathroom that included a walk-in shower and vintage, claw-foot tub. Mascara smudged her eyes, making her look like a hungover raccoon, and she scrubbed it away. While she was there, she used Carter’s brush to try to tame her hair, then looked for toothpaste but realized he must have taken it with him into the other bathroom. Rummaging in the cabinets, she found a brand-new tube and squirted some of the paste onto her finger, using it to brush her teeth, then cupped water in her hand and rinsed her mouth, spitting into the sink. She would shower after she went to the car for her things.
Leaving the bedroom, she nearly bumped into Carter in the hall. He still wore jeans but had changed into a Henley shirt, his hair damp.
“Sorry. I…uh…left my razor in my bathroom. I was coming back for it.” He scratched at the sexy stubble on his face. “How’d it go with Nora?”
“I told her about the photos. She took it rather well, actually.” Aware of her bare legs and nudity under his shirt, she looked away, her voice weakening. “I guess after having your daughter advertising for a new dungeon master, the rest of it’s pretty small beans.”
Gently, he tipped up her chin. “You okay?”
Her lips parted. “Carter, about last night—”
“I wasn’t rejecting you. I just wanted to be sure you felt the same way when you weren’t blotted out of your mind.”
Her skin prickled pleasurably from his nearness. Lost in his searching gaze, Quinn laid her fingers against his chest.
“I…still feel the same way,” she murmured.
He lowered his mouth to hers then, his kiss slow and drugging. Her arms went up around his neck, and she pressed her body to his, aware of how much she wanted—needed—the physical comfort and distraction of him. Whether they were together for just another few weeks, whether he broke what was left of her heart when it was over, it didn’t matter. Jake’s treachery faded, replaced by an aching need as she leaned into Carter in the hall outside his bedroom. His hands had slipped to the hem of the shirt she wore, and she felt a shuddering sensation as he cupped her bottom, pulling her closer.
His mouth searched hers more hungrily. Like her, he tasted faintly of minty toothpaste. His hands moved to her lower back under her shirt.
“Wait…” She pushed lightly against his chest, breaking their kiss. He released a shaky breath. His lung capacity and strength had improved dramatically, but she had to ask. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I think so.” He traced a finger over her cheekbone. “But as much as I’d like to do something romantic like sweep you into my arms and carry you to bed, I’m pretty sure my shoulder’s not up to it.”
She smiled softly. A tingling in her stomach, she took his hand and led him into the bedroom.
“Sorry, boy.” Carter closed the door with his heel, leaving Doug in the hall. “No voyeurs.”
As they stood beside the bed facing each other, he began to unbutton the shirt she wore. His dexterity was better, but she helped him with the remaining buttons, unable to wait. The whole world would think they were lovers soon. They might as well be, some wild part of her reasoned. He slid the shirt down her shoulders, and it dropped to the floor.
“God, Quinn,” he whispered. He filled his hands with her breasts, lightly squeezing them, brushing his thumbs over their hardened peaks. Quinn thrilled at his touch. Eyes closed, she felt his lips brush her brow.
Looking up at him, she eased down onto the bed, her heart thumping and throat dry. She lay back as Carter carefully pulled his shirt over his head. He had gained more weight, his body filling out, the raised scars nestled in the light matting of chest hair. She accepted those imperfections as she did the riveting blue of his eyes and masculine structure of his face. He lay down on his side next to her. Propped on his left elbow, his right hand encircled the mound of one of her breasts. Then his head dipped downward, his tongue tantalizing her nipple before he covered it with his hot mouth. The stubble on his face scratched her skin, sending an erotic shiver through her. Quinn threaded her fingers through his thick hair as he suckled her, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth with a hard pull. She groaned at the pleasure of it. Her fingers glided down his stomach, trailing past his navel and through the narrow line of coarse hair that disappeared at the waist of his jeans. As she lightly stroked his hardened manhood through the denim, he nipped at her breast, sending fire through her. Soon, he was pushing impatiently at the waistband of her panties. She helped him, shimmying them down her hips. Her breath caught as he slid a finger expertly up and down the desire-wet lips of her sex before sinking it deep into her body.
“Oh, God.” Her back arched, her mouth falling open as her walls clenched around him. Quinn was vaguely aware of her uneven breathing as he spoke to her in low tones, words of encouragement that sent her flying closer to the edge. Fingers slicked with her juices, he pumped in and out of her, his thumb massaging in slow circles until she came in an exploding orgasm. He silenced her cry with his mouth. Then he gathered her into his arms and rolled her on top of him.
“Careful…your shoulder,” she cautioned, panting, her hands on his chest. His face was flushed, and he, too, was breathing hard. His hand went up to fist in the waves of her hair, pulling just hard enough to elicit another moan.
“I want to be inside you, Quinn,” he said softly. “I want to make love to you.”
Looking into his eyes, she saw his need as well as his vulnerability.
“We need protection,” he murmured. “I’m not sure, but there might be a condom in my shaving kit—”
“I’m on the pill.” She had been, as well, when she had conceived, but she knew it was a rare occurrence. Hesitantly, she added, “And I got tested…after I left Jake.”
She saw sympathy on his features. They worked together to free him from his jeans and boxers, both of them smiling at the momentary awkwardness his shoulder injury necessitated. But their levity faded as Quinn straddled him just as she had last night, although this time he was on his back. Guiding him into her, she sank down onto his hard length, eyes closed and hissing softly as her body stretched to accommodate him. His breath shuddered. She braced her hands on his collarbones and began to slowly ride him. Carter’s hands slid to the swell of her hips. For a long time, the frictionless glide of their bodies felt like liquid heat as she ascended and descended, again and again. He watched her, a hungered passion in his eyes. Her breath began to grow ragged as her urgency increased, his hips rising under her to match her rhythm.
He groaned a short time later, coming inside her.
Minutes later, she still lay atop him, her cheek against his chest. Neither spoke as Carter stroked her lower back. She didn’t want this to end. She wanted to just lie here in this quiet room with only their joined breathing. Regretfully, she disentangled herself and lay on her side facing him. Turning toward her, he threaded a hand through her hair.
“Welcome back to vanilla,” he said softly, although his eyes were serious and searching.
He was comparing their lovemaking to what she’d had with Jake. But what she needed, wanted, right now, was a feeling of safety and trust. She felt traumatized by the things she had allowed Jake to do to her. She thought of the verbal abuse and humiliation. Quinn swallowed down the shame the unwanted memory caused.
“There’s nothing wrong with vanilla,” she assured him, touching his face.
“You have to tell me what you want. I can’t…I won’t do anything to actually hurt you, but—”
She hushed him with her fingers against his lips. “Jake and I were a mistake. I did those things with him because it was what he wanted, not what I wanted.” Her throat tightened. “But this…it was mind-shattering.”
His hand stroked intimately up her thigh. “I care about you, Quinn.”
A sadness kindled inside her. Still, she wrapped her fingers around his other wrist, kissed the insid
e of it. “I know.”
But care wasn’t love, and even if it were, she understood it wouldn’t be strong enough to hold him once he returned to his former life. Quinn reminded herself she had made the decision to live in the now with him, to take what he offered to somehow begin to heal herself, emotionally and sexually. She needed Carter, as much as he had needed her during those first painful weeks of his therapy. He was growing stronger, and she would, too. They would continue helping each other, and then they would say good-bye.
“We should get up,” she said with a resigned sigh. “The call’s scheduled for noon.”
“I’d rather stay here.” He bent his head to kiss the top of her breast. They both grinned as Doug whined on the other side of the closed door, unhappy about being kept out.
“Stay with me, Quinn. You’ll be safer here. It’s the best solution.” Carter pushed himself up in bed. Quinn followed suit, the sheets tucked around her. Reluctantly, she agreed, then looked out through the glass wall at the fragile, pale blue sky that had replaced the rain.
“I need a shower. But I need to bring in my things first. I’ll put them in the room across the hall.”
“But you’ll sleep here with me.” It wasn’t so much a question but a pronouncement.
Rising, Quinn picked up his shirt she’d worn and put it back on. As she did, she noticed the sweatpants she had been looking for earlier. They had been kicked under the bed skirt.
“After you talk with the attorney, I was thinking we’d take a late lunch at the St. Clair. Push therapy back until later today.” Carter stepped into his jeans and, with some effort, zipped and fastened them. “I need to talk to Mark, and it’s probably better if I do it in person.”
“About the photos?”
“And other things.” He released a breath. “We just made the conversation I’ve got to have with him even more complicated.”
Chapter Thirty
“So, when the photos were taken, you and Quinn weren’t together, but now you are?”
At the censure in Mark’s voice, Carter shifted in the wing chair in his brother’s well-appointed office. Mark sat across from him, behind the massive mahogany desk that had once belonged to their father.
“This is Quinn. She’s not someone you can just screw around with, and then—”
“It’s not like that.” Carter needed him to understand. “I care about her. And you’ve said yourself I’ve changed. Hurting Quinn is the last thing I’d want to do.”
Mark frowned. “I believe you’re sincere. I do. And you have changed, Carter. But you lead a big life. I don’t know if it can support an ordinary, lasting relationship. I don’t want Quinn being a casualty.”
Carter stood and went to look at the framed family photos that sat on a shelf in the barrister bookcase. He had felt confident and strong enough today to come into the sprawling hotel without even bringing his cane. Just this morning, he had made love. The bouts of breathlessness, the chest pain…they were gone. Quinn was responsible for that. He owed her so much. He was disappointed in Mark’s lack of faith in him, but not surprised. Who he was, his track record with women—it didn’t exactly instill confidence. He wanted Mark’s approval, but not getting it didn’t change anything. He turned to him. “Regardless, I wanted you to know. I wanted to prepare you for the photos and be up front with you about this.”
Mark sighed. “You’re both adults. It’s not like I can stop you. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t noticed something between you. I’d just hoped you wouldn’t act on it. Quinn doesn’t need another heartbreak—”
“She’s moving into the beach house,” Carter stated firmly. “It just makes sense for her to stay there. The gate’s being repaired today, and the house has a state-of-the-art security system. At the least, it eliminates her traveling back and forth.”
“Has something else happened?”
Carter knew Quinn wouldn’t want Mark to know about the online ad, or the truth behind her divorce. Those things could come out if Medero wanted to further humiliate her, but that would also mean exposing himself. “There’s been another issue with Medero. That’s all I can say, so don’t ask me more. Quinn doesn’t want me talking about it, not even to you.”
Mark frowned harder. “Where’s she now?”
“Waiting for me on the boardwalk.”
He got up from his chair, but Carter raised his palm in a halting gesture. “Mark, please. You have to trust me when I say she doesn’t want to talk about it. I’ve got it under control, all right?”
Their eyes held until he finally nodded. “Don’t let me down, Carter. On any of this.”
A short time later, Carter went out through the hotel’s rear doors, hoping to bypass the staff and smaller number of winter guests. He had requested one of the quieter alcoves in the St. Clair’s restaurant, and he and Quinn had enjoyed a relatively undisturbed lunch, with only a few patrons noticing them and coming over. As he slid on his sunglasses, the crisp breeze ruffling his hair, he spotted Quinn standing alone on the boardwalk and watching the ocean. It was late February and another mild winter day. The water stretched across the horizon under a powder-blue sky. Reaching her, he faced the water, as well, placing his hands on the sun-weathered rail.
“How’d it go?” she asked nervously.
“He knows about the photos the paps took, and he knows about us now. Needless to say, he isn’t happy.”
Quinn released a soft breath. “Mark’s been like a big brother to me. I know he worries.”
They had turned to face each other, and she raised her face to his for a slow kiss. Then, palms against his chest, she said worriedly, “What if someone sees us?”
“The cat’s out of the bag. At least it will be when the magazine hits.”
He sensed the duress inside her. Carter had grown used to—or at least accepting of—his life in a fishbowl. It was a trade-off for his success. But such scrutiny would be new to Quinn. In fact, even as the wife of a professional athlete, it seemed she had gone out of her way to avoid the public eye. He couldn’t protect her from the attention and possible criticism she would face because of their relationship. If it had been up to him, he would have kept it secret for as long as possible. But Medero had pushed them into the open.
His cell phone rang, and he reached into his jacket for it. The screen read Los Angeles County Police.
“I better take this,” he said before answering. At what he was told, a coldness passed through him. There was concern in Quinn’s eyes as she watched his face, able to hear only his side of the conversation.
“When?” he asked.
A few moments later, he thanked the detective for the heads-up and disconnected, a mix of emotions warring inside him. “That was the LA police.”
Quinn shoved several strands of her wind-blown hair from her face. “What’s happened?”
It would be on the news soon.
“Kelsey Dobbins is dead. She killed herself this morning.”
Chapter Thirty-One
They had watched the news the previous evening. Kelsey Dobbins’s death had been briefly noted, the news anchor stating only that suicide was suspected, although an autopsy had yet to be completed. Carter knew from Detective Warren that she had ripped up her bedsheets and fashioned a noose, hanging herself from a water pipe inside the mental institution.
He had also been told she had left a note addressed to him. If he chose to accept it, it would be forwarded once the death investigation closed.
The note remained on his mind as he entered the airy kitchen where Quinn was preparing lunch after another long walk on the beach.
“The attorney just called,” she said, sounding tense. “The judge signed the temporary restraining order until the formal hearing. It’s set for March eleventh.”
That was just around the corner. “They’re sending a copy of the order to the court here?”
“He says they are.” With a sigh, she passed a hand over her eyes before going back to chopping vegetables
. “Jake’s being served this afternoon.”
“Quinn…” Removing the knife from her grasp, he laid it on the cutting board and took her hands in his. “This is necessary.”
She merely bit her lip and nodded. He knew how much she dreaded facing Medero in court. The supporting documentation they had already provided—the police report detailing the property damage and the misdemeanor assault charge here, as well as screen shots of the text messages he’d sent—had no doubt factored into the decision for the temporary order. But the truly dangerous acts Medero had committed were largely without teeth, since so far they were untraceable to him. Medero would have his own attorney at the hearing who would refute any statements Quinn made about the car crash or the website ad, proclaiming a lack of proof his client was involved. They had learned late yesterday that the e-Rendezvous incident had been passed on to the FBI, but they had also been forewarned of a backlog of cases.
“There’s no telling what Jake will say about me in court.” Worry tightened Quinn’s features. “The last time, his attorney implied I was trying to defame him. That I’d trashed my own apartment so I could blame it on him. I’m linked to you because of the beach photos. I don’t want this to affect your career.”
“Don’t worry about me. You’re not alone in this, Quinn. I’ll be with you in the courtroom.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
“I’m going to speak about what I’ve witnessed. I’m not afraid of getting involved. We’ll take care of this in San Francisco, put it behind us and go to LA from there.”
The press junket he was contractually obligated to do was scheduled for the week after the hearing. They had already discussed Quinn accompanying him for the time he would be in LA, then going with him to New York for the junket’s East Coast arm and movie premiere. She had been hesitant about going, but he had convinced her that he needed her to continue his therapy and to help with some personal matters. Mostly, though, he just didn’t want to be without her.
Low Tide: Rarity Cove Book Two Page 20
