by T. M. Cromer
He nodded once and started to walk away.
“I’m sorry.”
This time when he stopped, he spun back around and glared. The air crackled with energy, and the curtains to her right swayed from his elemental magic. “You’re always sorry, Hol. How about you stop doing stupid shit to be sorry for?”
His rage was a slap in the face, and Holly reared back as if physical contact had taken place. Her mouth opened and closed on the words to defend herself, but he wasn’t wrong. She was ninety-nine-point-nine percent to blame for their relationship problems.
“Do you know how many times we’ve had this discussion?” He stormed to where she stood. “Do you?”
“We’ve never had this discussion, Quentin.” She had no idea what he was getting at, but for the second time in the last ten hours, she suspected he’d lost his mind. “You’ve never been this angry with me before.”
“Yes, I have. I may not have said the words, but I’ve been plenty angry with you, sweetheart,” he told her, sparing nothing. “But I’m talking about this moment in time. Standing in this hotel room with your brother next door, trying not to charge in here and rip my throat out for talking to you this way.”
The temptation to see if Nash was behind her was strong, but she curbed the impulse. Slowly, she shook her head. “No. I don’t know.”
“Over three hundred according to the Goddess Athena. Let that sink in, Hol. That means for three-hundred-plus cycles, you and I have come to this place in time. For three-hundred-plus cycles, you believed I wronged you, you married another man, and I’ve had to get that damned scroll to start the cycle all over again to save your ungrateful ass.”
His scathing words lacerated her heart. They stung because it sounded like he wished he hadn’t had to be here at all, as if saving her from Beau and Michelle’s evilness was a chore.
Suddenly it was all too much to deal with. She was tired of the push and pull of emotions. Tired of being considered such an unpleasant person that people found being around her a difficult duty.
“Then don’t,” she found herself saying. “Don’t save me, Quentin. It’s not your job. Let them finish what they started.”
“Ah, hell!” His large hand wrapped around her neck and hauled her close. Putting his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes. His anger seemingly gone. “I can’t do that, Hol. I could never do that. Never.” His ragged sigh made her stomach flip-flop. “Goddess, I love you, Holly. More than you will ever know. If we have to do this ridiculous dance for eternity, then that’s what we’ll do. Because I could never knowingly let anyone hurt you.”
She sobbed his name, and he drew her closer still.
“Shhh. It’s okay, love. Don’t cry.”
She cried anyway. A big, ugly, snotty cry that would scare most men away.
Quentin bent and lifted her, tucking her against his chest. In the back of her mind, she heard the door shut between the suites as Quentin settled on the bed and cradled her in his arms.
“You’re killing me, Hol. Don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry.” He kissed each eyelid and rubbed her back even as he rocked her like a small child. “Don’t cry.”
“I l-love y-you, Q-Quentin,” she managed through hiccuping sobs. “I-I’m so s-sorry.”
His arms tightened. “It’s all right, love. I promise, it’s all right.”
“Y-you’re right. I’m s-stupid!”
“You’re not stupid. Not the least little bit. I was being an ass.” He dropped a lingering kiss on her forehead and conjured tissues to gently mop up her face. “Besides, I said you do stupid shit. Not that you’re stupid. There’s a huge difference between the two,” he tried to tease.
“Over the two years of our marriage, Beau continually undermined me. Basically, he gaslighted me and had me believing I was less than I should be. Less than who I once was when you and I were together.” She inhaled a ragged breath. “You always made me feel special and smart.”
“You are smart, love. That internal dialogue is Beau in your head. Don’t go there.”
“I don’t feel smart. I didn’t see that the people closest to me had systematically set out to hurt me. Beau and Michelle made me question my intelligence and destroyed my relationships with my family. With you.” It was an effort, but she shoved aside her embarrassment and lifted her head to meet Quentin’s tender gaze. “I know Michelle wanted you. Hell, every woman wants you. You are perfect.”
He snorted.
“No, you are, Quentin. You truly are.” Holly gnawed her lip as she tried to find the words to make him understand. “I forgave her because I understood that need to touch you, to be with you. But I couldn’t forgive you because you crushed my heart. I thought you betrayed all I held dear. It was never that I trusted her over you. It was that I couldn’t trust myself anymore.” Reaching up, she trailed her fingertips over the chiseled planes of his face. “I kept you at a distance because to let you close was to expose myself to that kind of hurt again, and I couldn’t bear to go through another heartache. There are always going to be women throwing themselves at you.”
“I’m going on record as saying Beau and Michelle were duplicitous assholes with evil intent. He may never have physically hurt you until the night of the stabbing, but he was a master manipulator. Michelle was his perfect co-conspirator.” He captured her hand and kissed the pad of her fingers. “What he did was mental and verbal abuse, Hol.”
“I know that now, and yet, old habits die hard, ya know?”
“I’m not perfect. I’m far from it. I’m stubborn, and I take great delight in teasing you to anger.”
“Now that you mention it, why do you do that?”
His smile bloomed fast and wide, showing a great expanse of straight, white teeth. “The color in your cheeks. The fiery look in your eyes. All that passion coming to life. It’s erotic as hell, love. Whenever you turn into my prickly pear, I’m reminded of all the times we made love while we were together.” He lowered his mouth to within an inch of hers. His breath mingled with hers. “You were wild, Hol. You were always up for anything. To this day, I’ve never known anyone as giving or responsive, anyone as sexy as you.”
Holly closed the slight distance between them. When his lips opened under hers, she sighed her pleasure at the contact. And when his tongue zipped along the edge of hers, her sigh turned to a throaty moan.
Quentin. It was always Quentin. Even in her marriage bed, the ghost of him lingered. Maybe Beau knew it. If he had sensed her reserve, maybe she was the blame for her own trials and tribulations. Maybe he understood she would never love him as fully or completely as she’d once loved Quentin, how she would always love Quentin. He was the blood pulsing in her veins.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved you, Quentin. I can’t say it enough, and I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing for my mistakes.”
“No, you won’t. The past is done, Hol. We only go forward from here, okay?”
“Or backward.”
He lifted his dark head in question.
“You said you had to go back to save me. How does that work?”
“I’m not exactly sure. All I do know is that I am to find an artifact known as the Cheirotonia Scroll, which coincidentally, is the same object your father needs. That’s why this mission for your dad was a no-brainer from the get-go. Future me said that once I touch it, I will know what to do. It would take me back to a pivotal point in my life.”
“I wonder why you chose that point in time?”
The look of disbelief he shot her was comical in nature. He shook his head and tucked a lock of her wayward hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t let you be murdered.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. Why not go back to before Michelle pulled her stunt? Why not go back to the beginning and write a note to the two of us, explaining what was to happen?”
Quentin seemed to think about this for a few moments. “Because Michelle would find another time or place to attempt to break us u
p. And about the note, would you really believe it wasn’t a prank?”
“Both good points.”
“Hol…” He paused and swallowed. “What if I went back and made sure we never got together?”
Holly’s lungs lost their ability to function, and she found it impossible to breathe. The pain in her chest was crushing, and she thought she must be having heart failure. She had been lonely for a long time, and now, when she believed a relationship with the single most important person in her world was on the horizon, he stood in front of her, telling her he was thinking about trashing it all.
She was unable to articulate her grief, and yet he saw through her immediately.
“You are taking this wrong, love. I’ve had years to think about this. It isn’t a rejection of us. It’s to save your life.” He placed a hand on either side of her face to gain her undivided attention. “If there is no us, Michelle won’t try to destroy our relationship. You won’t go running off with Beau, and no one will ever know what we are. They won’t fear you or try to kill you for being as powerful as you are.”
“But to never have met you, Quentin? To never have spent that year and a half in your arms and to never have a future with you would make my life colorless.”
“Oh, Hol.” The sweet reverence in his voice, the understanding, all cut her to the quick. At the same time, the strong emotion in his eyes made her heart beat fast. Made her want to lose herself in his embrace.
“I’ve been alone for too many years.” She waved a hand when he would have spoken. “Oh, I know you were always there, waiting for me to come to my senses, but all that time I was unable to trust myself. All I want is you. Anywhere you are is where I belong, Quentin. Please don’t wish that away. Please.”
The conflicted emotions he was experiencing were reflected in his tortured eyes. Holly reached up to smooth his furrowed brow. “I have to believe it will all be all right in the end. Without you, what is there?”
“My question exactly.” His mouth claimed hers in a possessive move that left her breathless. “No more talking. Let’s exist in the here and now, love.”
Her answer was to shift and draw him down on top of her.
Chapter 12
Quentin burrowed his fingers in Holly’s splayed out hair, cradling her head to memorize her features. Not that he needed to. From years of shadowing her, of playing bodyguard from afar and from up close, he knew every curve of her face, the contours and tones of her skin, the exact number of the smatter of freckles on her nose—thirteen.
He wanted to speak. To assure her of his love and promise her forever, but he knew he couldn’t. Life didn’t work that way. But he could show her. He could worship her body as he had done in his secret fantasies for years on end.
With the utmost tenderness, he brushed her nose with his then kissed the tip. The large, luminous eyes she turned on him told him all he needed to know. Words weren’t necessary with their connection. Not anymore. Maybe they never had been. The outpouring of love, on both sides, was visible to each of them and probably to any who happened to witness an exchanged glance.
How had he ever been idiot enough to believe she ever loved Beau? She couldn’t have, not the way she was looking at him this exact moment.
Emotion sat thick in his throat. This magnificent woman, fearless in all but love, was his. Everyone had their kryptonite. Holly was his; her fear of being hurt was hers. It all came to him in that moment. Like an epiphany.
“What are you thinking about, Quentin?” she asked softly.
“I’m trying to decide where to start. Which delectable part of your body needs my attention first.”
Her naughty smile bloomed and took over her entire face. “Are you fishing for suggestions? I have a number of ideas.”
His answering grin had to be as wide as hers. “I’ll bet you do, love. But I’ve got this.”
“Then get to getting. My body needs reminding of what you can do.”
Ever so slowly, as to not break eye contact until the last possible second, he lowered his head. Their kiss was soul shattering. Long and drugging, yet it pulled him back to when they were young and passionate. When he drew away, they both struggled to draw a breath.
“How’s that for a start?” he murmured.
“Fuck, yeah! Achoo!”
Neither acknowledged the rat-a-tat-tat at the window. They were drunk on each other, on a kiss that would wreck lesser mortals.
“I think it’s about time I paid attention to this spot here.” Quentin nuzzled the sensitive area beneath her ear and suppressed his smile when he heard her breathless giggle.
She ran a finger down the valley between her breasts. “What about this spot? I’m sure it’s been neglected.”
“Don’t rush me, woman. I plan to taste every square inch of you.”
“My apologies.”
As she positioned her hand to snap away their clothes, he covered her hand with his. “No. I’m doing this the old-fashioned way.”
A simple roll and shift of their positions had her settled atop him with her firm, shapely thighs straddling his hips. The heat of her core came through their clothing, and he smiled with satisfaction.
She leaned over him, and the silky strands of her dark hair brushed his face and clung to his stubble.
“I should have shaved.”
“No.” Her nails raked his two-day beard growth. “I like it.”
The light teal shirt she had on blocked his view of her full breasts.
“You’re wearing too many clothes, love. Let’s start by removing this shirt.”
Even anticipating Holly’s impatience, Quentin unfastened one closure after another in his own good time. With each button he released, he trailed his fingertips over the creamy skin behind the cotton material and followed it with a light lick.
“Quentin, you’re killing me! Remove the stinking shirt already.”
“Uh, uh, uh.” He wagged a finger in her face although his attention was still caught by the outline of the breasts about to be exposed. “I haven’t been able to touch you the way I’ve wanted for seven years. We’re not rushing this. It takes finesse. You’ll remember that I like to take my time to unwrap my packages and prolong the anticipation.” He met her frustrated gaze. “Nothing good ever comes easy, Hol.”
Her face scrunched, and she huffed out a hard breath. “I think we can agree this hasn’t been easy. And the anticipation you’re talking about? Yeah, that’s had a lot of years to build.” Scooting back and resting on her thighs, she took the choice out of his hands and ripped her shirt open, dislodging the remaining buttons. “All that flirting and those teasing tastes of what we had? You’re the master of the long, slow burn.”
Holly squirmed, and his dick strained against his zipper. Without conscious thought, his hands found her hips and he rubbed himself between her thighs. “Maybe you have a point.”
“I want to have your point,” she teased. With a raised brow, she lifted her hands and snapped her fingers.
He inhaled sharply. The sight of her—hair tumbled around her shoulders, brushing the peaks of her breasts, the flat abdomen, and full hips—had his cock standing at attention.
When she stroked him, he had to count backwards from twenty in order to not shame himself. So much for leisurely lovemaking. If he didn’t find a way to draw it out, it was going to be wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.
“You need to keep your hands to yourself if you want me to last more than two minutes, Hol.”
“I don’t care if you last thirty seconds as long as I get off.”
In another quick shifting of their positions, he had her flat on her back with her hands locked above her head. Transferring both her wrists into his one hand, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I only gave you thirty seconds of lovemaking?”
“Quentin, if you don’t do me right now, I’m going to lose my shi—”
He took her mouth in a frenzy of passion. Their tongues
battled for supremacy as she twisted to pull free of his grasp. All she succeeded in doing was to arouse him to the point of insanity.
“Easy, love. My control is hanging by a very thin thread.”
She bucked against him and bit his lower lip. “Good.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You never would. Now stop talking and put that thing in me, will ya?”
“You are the most impatient—”
She cut him off with another love bite. Her tone turned coaxing. “Quentin, please.”
He released her wrist and cupped her breasts. Dropping his head, he ran his tongue over the pebbled tip, then drew it between his teeth to nip her in return. When she gasped, he tugged a little harder. The throaty moan drove him to duplicate the maneuver on her other breast.
Holly wound fingers and thumbs into his hair, pushing him downward.
He smiled against her belly then skimmed his teeth along on the underside of her bellybutton. The quiver of her stomach muscles told him how much she liked it, and he did it again.
With his right index finger, he dipped into the wetness at her opening and used it as a lubricant to swirl up and down her folds. Her hips rose from the bed, driving her toward his mouth. Because he was feeling inclined to feast on her, he wrapped his arms around her legs, stretching her then buried his face against her.
She tasted like the nectar of the gods, as sweet as honey and as spicy as cinnamon. Her orgasmic cries echoed about the room, and still, he worked her with his fingers and tongue. Plunging, tasting, readying her for him.
“Please,” she begged. “Quentin, please!” she screamed as she crested the second release.
He sat back on his heels and looked down at her writhing body. Her hands clenched the thick folds of the comforter while her legs trembled with her need. But it was her eyes, like the darkest, stormiest sea, that drew him.
Never breaking eye contact, he guided himself to her slick opening. Her eyes widened a fraction as he filled her. When her lids fluttered shut, the beast within him protested. With a fierceness that surprised him, he growled, “Never shut me out again. Look at me, Holly.” He thrust hard. “Look at me.”
