Quantum Series Boxed Set: Books 1-7

by Force, Marie

  I try to recall my calendar and can’t think of anything tomorrow afternoon. “That should work.”

  She gives me the address and says they’ll see me then.

  Great, more poking and prodding of my dick, and not the good kind.

  I reply to the Quantum group chat, which is full of requests for updates on how I’m doing. I let them know things are better today, and I’ll be back in the office tomorrow, even if the prospect of jamming my junk into real pants probably won’t be much better then.

  Hayden sends a row of eggplant emojis.

  Annie already played that joke.

  The eggplant never gets old, Hayden says. Just ask Addie.

  Shut up, Hayden, Addie says.

  Laughter emojis from everyone.

  Glad you’re feeling better xoxo, Natalie says. She’s a doll. Not only do I like her, I respect the hell out of her for surviving a past that would’ve ruined a lesser person. She’s adapted to the insanity of life as Flynn’s wife with grace and aplomb that has earned the admiration of all his friends.

  I power up my laptop, log into the office server and get busy tending to business. As always, there’s plenty that requires my attention, from contracts in need of review to licensing agreements to real estate transactions. I eat this shit up, wallowing in the details on behalf of my clients, who also happen to be my closest friends. Working for them is a labor of love, and there’s literally nothing I wouldn’t do for them.

  I open an email from the deputy attorney general in the state of Nebraska who’s overseeing the prosecution of Natalie’s father. He’s accused of killing the lawyer who arranged for Natalie’s new identity after she was raped at fifteen by the state’s governor—who was her father’s closest friend. It’s a sordid tale, no matter how you look at it, and every time I hear more about it, I marvel at the way Natalie has persevered through unimaginable adversity.

  Her father killed the lawyer, not because he nearly ruined Natalie’s new life by disclosing her real name, but because the lawyer besmirched her father’s precious friend Oren. The whole thing disgusts me. I can’t imagine how it makes Natalie feel to know she has to relive the nightmare all over again at the upcoming trial.

  The prosecutor is confirming the date for Natalie to go to Nebraska to testify at her father’s trial. I forward the email to Natalie and tell her to let me know if she has any questions.

  I’m not representing her in the matter so much as supporting her. She doesn’t require legal representation to testify, and she’s certainly had enough experience testifying after having put that monster Stone away when she was only a teenager. But I’ll do whatever I can to make this easier on her. We all wish she didn’t have to do it at all, but the prosecutor told me he was prepared to subpoena her if she didn’t go willingly.

  Like she hasn’t already been victimized enough by her father and his late “friend.” When I heard that her parents sided with Stone over their own kid after he attacked and raped her… I still can’t believe that actually happened. I hate that she has to relive it, not to mention she’ll have to see her father again for the first time in eight years.

  Flynn is stressed about it. I know he is, even if he doesn’t say much. And now that Natalie is pregnant, I’m sure that’s only adding to his concern. We’re all looking forward to getting it over with. We leave for Nebraska two days after Hayden and Addie’s wedding and will be there for less than twenty-four hours. In and out. That’s the plan, anyway.

  For lunch, I eat some of the cheese, crackers and smoked sausage—interesting choice in light of the reason for the gift—that came in the basket from Annie and power through a productive afternoon. Around five, I get up and move around, trying to decide if I’m up for a workout. Upper body maybe, as my lower parts still feel achy and sore. After I change into gym shorts, I head down to the basement gym and put myself through a rigorous arm and chest workout that leaves me sweating, spent and in bad need of a shower.

  When the elevator arrives on my floor, I step off to find Leah sitting outside my door, grocery bags on either side of her. She’s face-first in her phone and doesn’t immediately notice me. I take a good long look at her, and memories of what she did earlier assail me. I try to think of anything but that so I won’t be sporting wood when I approach her. It’s been an up-and-down kind of day, because every time I think about that world-class blow job, I get hard.

  I clear my throat, and she looks up, smiling at the sight of me in a sweaty tank top with a towel around my neck.

  What does it say about my disengagement campaign that I’m really happy to see her?

  Chapter 7

  Oh my God, he’s all sweaty after a workout, and I still want to lick him.

  “Leah?”

  I realize he’s said something to me while I was busy staring at him and thinking about licking. “Huh?”

  “What’re you doing here?”

  Oh. That. Right. “I thought I would make dinner for you.”

  Thankfully, he doesn’t mention that I used his garage code to gain access to the building. I guess I should say unauthorized access since he didn’t give me explicit permission to use it. I wait for him to tell me no thanks, that he’s all set, that he doesn’t want me here, but he doesn’t say anything. He merely unlocks the door and reaches for one of the bags.

  I get up and follow him inside, where his laptop and a bunch of papers are on the counter next to a huge basket. “What’s that?”

  “A gift from Annie, Hugh and the boys for me and my boys.”

  “That’s nice of them.”

  “It was. She feels awful about her kids unmanning me, although she did have some fun at my expense with the eggplant emoji.”

  I try not to laugh, but a snort escapes my lips anyway.

  “It’s not funny,” he says sternly.

  “It’s a little funny.”

  “Nothing little about it.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

  “Stop,” he says.

  I go to him, flatten my hands on his sweaty chest and gaze up at him. “Does that mean you’ve been thinking about it all day, too?”

  “Not at all.”

  “You’re such a liar, Counselor.” I glance down at the obvious bulge in his shorts. “Such a liar.” I want to drop to my knees and give him a repeat performance. “You know what else I was thinking about today?”

  “I’m afraid to guess.”

  “That I’ve had your dick in my mouth, but I’ve never even kissed you.” I zero in on his lips. “We ought to rectify that at some point.”

  “I said one night, Leah. That’s all this is going to be. We’re not in a relationship.”

  “Could you just remind me again why it can only be one night?”

  His exasperated sigh has me moving in closer to him. I don’t care that he’s sweaty. I just want more of him. “We work together, and I don’t do messy or complicated, and this has the potential to be both.”

  “Does it?” I ask, filled with giddy hope that he thinks I could be complicated—and messy. I’d love to get messy with him.

  “You know it does.”

  “You know what else I know?”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask…”

  “That we aren’t doing anything wrong by giving in to an attraction we both feel, and don’t try to tell me you don’t feel it, too.” I gently place my palm over his erection, not wanting to hurt him as I make my point. “We aren’t doing anything wrong, Emmett.”

  “You don’t know me at all,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you really don’t.”

  “Then tell me what I need to know, but don’t try to tell me you aren’t equally attracted.”

  “I won’t deny I’m attracted.”

  “That’s good, because I’d hate to have to remind you of the evidence to the contrary.” I flex my hand ever so slightly to remind him I’m still holding his cock, just in case he’s f
orgotten.

  He pulls my hand away. “Behave yourself, pit bull.”

  I love that nickname so hard. “Why should I? I’m alone with a guy I want to be with who just admitted he wants to be with me, too. Why do I have to behave?”

  “Because. There’re things… Things you don’t know.”

  “What things?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You know what’s really funny about you?”

  “I can’t wait to hear this.”

  “You’ve got yourself convinced that I’m way too young for you, but I’m not the one playing games here and acting like a fifteen-year-old who doesn’t know how to deal with women.”

  I love the flash of anger that heats his gorgeous eyes. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “Isn’t it? What’re you so afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.” I turn away from him and begin unpacking the groceries I bought. “I hope you like chicken carbonara. It’s one of my specialties.” I start rifling through drawers and cabinets, generally making myself at home in his kitchen while pretending to ignore the fact that he’s still standing there, still staring at me, still hot as fuck and hard as a rock.

  It’s occurred to me, many times in the months since my unreasonable crush on Emmett took hold and flourished like an out-of-control weed, that I could’ve and probably should’ve set my sights on a more attainable man. But it’s not like I consciously decided to set my sights on him. It just happened, that first day in the Quantum office. I met him at Flynn and Natalie’s wedding and remember finding him incredibly attractive, but it wasn’t until we actually conversed about the NDA that I began to think about licking him.

  “If you want to grab a shower, I need about half an hour to get this ready.”

  He stands there for another second or two before turning and walking away.

  I release a deep breath and pour myself a glass of the wine I brought while trying not to think about him naked, wet and soapy in the shower. It takes all the willpower I can muster to stay in the kitchen when I want to be in that shower with him more than I want my next breath.

  Patience, I tell myself. Have some patience.

  I have none where he’s concerned. I hardly recognize myself in this situation. Most of the time, I’m the guy in my dealings with men. I love them and leave them. I don’t get involved. I don’t care enough to bother. But with Emmett, everything is different, and I can’t even say why. It just is. I look at him and I want him, and not just physically. I’m attracted to that big brain of his as much as I am his other big parts. I want to understand what makes him tick. I want to know about his family, his childhood, his life before I met him. I want to know everything.

  And that kind of scares me. At any moment, I expect him to tell me to go away and stay gone. It’s obvious that he’s equal parts aroused and irritated by my presence. What if the irritation wins out? It was so much easier when I didn’t care. Part of me wishes I could go back to that apathetic state of being when I wasn’t risking anything by going after what I want.

  With Emmett, I feel like I’m risking everything—the new job I love, my new life and my sanity. But even knowing that, I can’t seem to control or contain the pressing need for more of him—and I don’t want to control or contain it. I want to give in to it and fully gorge on feelings I’ve never experienced so powerfully before I met him.

  I spent some time with Addie today in the office, heard some more about how she’d ended up with Hayden and how hard she fought for the happily ever after they will get this weekend when they exchange vows and begin their life together. She’d intimated there was much more to the story than what she’d shared, but she said enough for me to see that she’d gone after what she wanted and it had paid off big-time for her, even if she is a hot mess of anxiety over the wedding itself.

  Although her story gave me hope and furthered my belief that I owe it to myself to see where this could go with Emmett, I’m actually a little worried about how stressed out she is—and from what I heard from others, so is Hayden.

  Something is wrong. Our wedding is days away, and Addie is a wreck. My Addie is never a wreck. She’s the picture of competence in all situations. Watching her come undone as our wedding day draws closer is making me crazy. We should’ve eloped the way Flynn and Natalie did the first time they exchanged vows, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She wants the big white wedding, and since I want whatever she wants, I went along with it. Now I wish I’d insisted on something simpler.

  She’s weepy and withdrawn and not sleeping. Worst of all, she’s not talking to me about whatever is wrong, so I’ve begun to think the worst. Does she want out of it and doesn’t know how to tell me? Yeah, that’s where my mind has gone, and it’s not a good place to be, especially this week when we’re supposed to be happier than we’ve ever been.

  She’s not happy, and as such, neither am I.

  I arrive home to the house we share in Malibu and go looking for her, finding her in the office bent over her ever-present wedding notebook. I wish I’d insisted on a wedding planner so she wouldn’t be bearing the brunt of the planning stress, but she’d wanted to do it herself so I gave in. She doesn’t hear me come in, so I take advantage of the opportunity to drink her in. I, who once thought I couldn’t love any woman, have come to love her more than my own life. If she wants out, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do. I’m so afraid of that possibility that I almost can’t bring myself to broach the subject at all.

  But I have to know what’s wrong, if for no other reason than watching her suffer is killing me.

  “Hey, babe,” I say softly so I won’t startle her.

  She looks up at me, and I’m alarmed by puffy eyes, dark circles and a general sense of weariness that breaks my heart. “Oh. You’re home.”

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  I hold out my hand to her. “Come with me.”

  “I’ve got a million things to do tonight.”

  “Please?”

  I can feel her reluctance when she gets up from the chair, comes around the desk and reaches out to take my hand. Her engagement ring sparkles in the waning daylight coming in through the windows that face the ocean.

  I close my fingers around hers and lead her to the deck, sitting on the double lounge chair I bought her for her birthday after she said she wished we could sit together on the deck that overlooks the Pacific and not in separate chairs. Because there’s a slight chill in the air this October evening, I draw a blanket over us and snuggle her in close to me. “Talk to me, Addison. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Nothing is going on. Our wedding is in six days, and there’s still a lot to do.”

  “That’s not it, and if you don’t tell me what’s up, I’m going to fear that maybe you don’t really want to marry me after all, and if that’s the case…” I can’t even say it. The mere thought of it is enough to make me feel like the world is ending.

  I’m shocked and horrified when she begins to cry.

  “Addie, sweetheart…” I want to get up and run away so I won’t have to hear whatever she’s going to tell me. If I don’t hear her say it’s over, then it’s not over. Right? I wouldn’t know how these things work. I’ve never been in love before her, before she forced her way into my life with fearless determination that left me helpless to do anything other than give her everything. If she takes back her love… “Do you not want to get married?”

  She only cries harder.

  I’m dying. The helpless feeling that overtakes me reminds me far too much of my mother overdosing four times. Then, like now, I had no idea what to do or how to help. For someone who prides himself on control in all aspects of his life, being out of control is the worst place to be.

  I stroke her hair and caress her back, hoping she’ll calm down enough to tell me what’s got her so upset. But more than anything, I wan
t to hear that she hasn’t changed her mind about me and the life we’re supposed to have together.

  Her hiccupping sobs are like knives in my gut. If she hurts, I hurt. That’s how much I love her, and I resolve that no matter what she says, I won’t give her up without a fight.

  “Addison, talk to me.” I run my fingers through her silky blonde hair. “Tell me what’s wrong. Let me help.”

  “I don’t know what’s happening,” she says between sobs.

  “Is it the wedding? Do you not want to marry me?”

  She shakes her head.

  Dear God, which question is she answering?

  “Of course I want to marry you.”

  Relief floods through me, leaving me lightheaded and breathless. I tighten my hold on her, clinging to the woman who changed my life in every possible way.

  “I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s me… And… My mom.”

  Her mother died more than fifteen years ago from a heart attack, when Addie was twelve. “What about your mom?” I ask, confused.

  “Since she died, there’s been this blank space in my mind where she used to be. I couldn’t remember much of anything about her, and in the last few days, it’s all come rushing back. I remember everything, and I feel like it’s happening all over again. Am I going crazy?”

  My heart breaks for her. “No, baby, you’re not going crazy.”

  “Why is this happening now?”

  “Probably because you want her with you at our wedding, so your mind is unlocking the memories.”

  “You really think so?” She looks up at me with big blue eyes filled with tears that gut me.

  I wipe them from her face. “I can’t know for sure, but that sounds like a possibility, doesn’t it?”

  “I like that better than thinking I’m losing my mind. I’ve been a mess, forgetting things. I forgot to book a band! I don’t forget things, Hayden. That’s not who I am!”

  “Take a breath, sweetheart. You put so much pressure on yourself. The only thing that matters Saturday is you and me and the people we love. Who the fuck cares if we have a band?”