Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bryan
H arper is still dead to the world.
I glance up from my laptop, stretching my neck before rubbing a hand down my face. She’s barely moved in hours, her steady, even breaths the only sound breaking the silence. Color is returning to her cheeks, the dark hollows beneath her eyes not as stark as they were before.
She’s snoring softly, too, which is ridiculously adorable—but mostly, the soft breathy sound helps me relax. She needs rest, and seeing her so content makes me feel like I haven’t totally fucked up.
I never should have let her go on the dinner run alone. Of course, Eddie wanted to save face after I made him look like the schmuck he is. I should have anticipated him coming after her.
I didn’t, and that’s on me.
I lean back in my chair, cracking my knuckles. It’s done. The only thing to do now is to move forward and make sure she’s safe while we find Siobhan and then circle back around to take him and his operation down.
But first, Siobhan. I turn my attention back to my screen and the long list of Sentinel-affiliated properties in the UK. The farmhouse is still the most promising, but if she’s not there, I want to know where to look next.
I scroll through the data, my focus waning, fatigue pulling at the edges of my mind. All this digging and not doing is making me stir crazy. I’m a man of action. I’m the guy Tag calls in when he needs things done.
This investigation stuff is much better suited to Finn.
And, of course, Harper.
I glance through the open door and check on her again before waking my mouse and clicking through the information in front of me.
The farmhouse is a fortress, and unless we want to get ourselves riddled with bullets the second we set foot on the property, we need a plan.
The door swings open, and I’m already reaching for the knife tucked against my thigh when I register Kieran’s cocky swagger behind the luggage trolley.
The guy strolls in, a cigarette dangling between his lips, the fucking trolley in front of him weighed down with shopping bags and boxes of gear.
I raise an eyebrow. “What the hell is all this?”
Kieran exhales a stream of smoke, shoving the bounty closer to me with his foot. “A little something called preparedness, boss.”
I push back from the table, standing as I eye the sheer amount of stuff he’s collected. “You were supposed to get surveillance equipment, not raid half the goddamn shops in England.”
He grins, pulling a sleek black case off the stack and dropping it onto the table with a thud. “Oh, I got surveillance equipment, all right.” He flicks open the clasps, revealing a drone nestled inside the foam lining.
I let out a low whistle. “Not bad.”
“There’s more.” He starts unloading the haul, laying out the goods like some kind of arms dealer at a private showing. Night vision binoculars, compact thermal cameras, listening devices—the works.
I shake my head, unable to hold back a smirk. “You’ve been busy.”
Kieran plops down into the chair across from me, stretching his arms over his head. “Figured if we’re going to be sneaking around an ex-military-protected safe house, might as well do it with style.”
I pick up one of the thermal cameras, turning it over in my hands. “This’ll help. Once it’s dark, we’ll get back out there and see if we can confirm Siobhan’s inside.”
Kieran nods, already pulling open another box. “Aye, but if we’re going to be out all night, we’ll need to sack out for a few hours, so we’re sharp.”
“I had a nap after my shower. I’m good.”
He nods. “Then when I get up, we can eat and get back to the farmhouse.”
My watch says it’s just after three. If he takes a couple of hours, we can be back on the road just after sundown. “Good. Let’s plan to leave in four hours.”
Kieran tosses his cigarette into the sink, already kicking off his boots. “I’ll set an alarm. I gotta admit, I’ve got a fucking hard on thinking about getting that drone into the air. She’s damned sexy.”
I grunt, watching as he goes into the second bedroom and closes the door. That man needs to get out more.
My gaze travels in the other direction to trace the lines of Harper’s sleeping form. I’ve got a hard on for a sexy girl, too, and she’s not a fucking drone.
I roll my eyes and focus on the aerial map of the farmhouse. Eyes on the prize. We need to stay focused.
Because tonight we hunt.
* * *
A muffled cry snaps me awake.
I don’t remember drifting off, but I’m on my feet before my mind fully catches up. Heart pounding, I verify the hotel door and Kieran’s bedroom door are both closed.
I turn to the other bedroom as another distressed whimper slips from Harper’s lips. The sound is sharp enough to cut through the haze of sleep still clinging to me. I push through the door and close the distance to the bed before I realize my feet are moving.
She’s tangled in the sheets, her body twisting as she fights against something unseen, her face tight with fear. Her breaths are ragged, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts.
“Harper, you’re safe.” I step closer. No response. Her body jerks again, a small whimper escaping her lips.
I lift one knee to the mattress, reaching out, intending to shake her shoulder and pull her free from whatever darkness has its claws in her.
The second my fingers graze her arm, she moves.
Her hand snaps out, fingers clamping around my wrist with surprising strength. Before I can react, her leg swings up and around me, catching me off guard and flipping my entire goddamn body.
The next thing I know, I’m flat on my back with Harper straddling me, her thighs locked around my hips, her breath coming in short, sharp pants.
I blink up at her, half-shocked, half-impressed, and fully aroused.
Well, this is new.
Her fist winds back, her knuckles aiming straight for my face. Fast reflexes. Good form. This girl’s got instincts—ones I didn’t expect to still be this sharp after everything she’s been through.
I catch her fist in my palm, gripping it tight before she can land the hit.
The jolt seems to wake her.
Her gaze snaps clearer, her body still tense as her mind catches up with the moment. I feel it—the second reality crashes back into her.
Her breath hitches, her muscles go slack, and her face goes pale.
“Ohmygod,” she breathes, her voice hoarse. Her wild eyes dart around the room before they land on me, wide with confusion. “What…?”
“You were having a nightmare.” My voice is rough from sleep and husky for another reason altogether.
A reason far more dangerous.
I loosen my grip on her fist as color floods her cheeks, realization settling in as she blinks down at me. Her breath is still shallow, her skin warm, her thighs locked around my waist.
That’s when it hits me—she’s not wearing any pants.
A low, miserable groan rumbles in my chest as I become acutely aware of the damp heat pressing against my stomach.
Fucking hell.
“You, uh, should probably let me go before we have another one of those embarrassing moments.” My voice comes out strained, my self-control unreliable around her.
She still looks half-asleep, confused, her body slow to react.
“You’re wet, Harper,” I mutter, trying like hell not to focus on the way her body feels pressed against mine. “And I’m trying to be a gentleman here, especially after what you’ve been through.”
Her hazel eyes sharpen, clearing as her gaze locks onto me with something dangerous flickering behind them. “What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”
My stomach tightens.
Her voice is low, a hunger in her tone that should be off-limits after the past couple of days she’s had.
“What if I want to get rid of the terror beating in my chest?” she whispers, shifting slightly. “What if I want to replace the feeling of their unwanted hands with something welcome?”
Fuck me, don’t say that.
“What if I want to celebrate being alive by living in the moment?”
I swallow hard, my restraint damn near obliterated.
“Harper…” I warn, gripping her hips to still her before I do something neither of us will come back from.
“You’ve had a traumatic few days.”
Her eyes flash. “Don’t analyze me, big boy.”
Holy hell. I exhale sharply, my hands flexing against her warm skin. “We’re working together—on projects incredibly important and personal to each of us. What if we ruin things?”
She chuckles, a slow, wicked sound that hits me right in the gut. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of friends with benefits?”
I let out a long sigh. “Harper. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea of who I am. I’m not a romantic man. There’s no gentler side of me. I live outside the laws of society, and I hurt people. I don’t have women friends. I have women in my family who I care about and women I fuck who I don’t. There are only two categories.”
She runs her hands over the planes of my chest and grins. “Then I’m starting a third category—friends you fuck.”
She doesn’t even stumble over saying it. I swear this woman knows how to push all my buttons.
“No. There are only two categories.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to fuck me?” She shifts her hips, the damp head of her core riding the steel rod of my cock trapped in my jeans.
I drag a hand down my face, trying to grasp at some level of control. I don’t find it.
She leans forward, the soft fullness of her breasts pressing against my hard pecs, her lips a breath away from mine, her smile all fire and mischief. “I didn’t think so. You want to be railing me as much as I want you to.”
Fecking hell. “I haven’t any protection.”
She sighs. “Well, that is disappointing. I’m a safety girl, so we’ll have to work around that. Are you clean otherwise?”
“Aye, and I’ve got the wee card to prove it.”
Her smile returns. “Then we take our pleasures right now and then you fuck me once you’ve had a chance to get to the store.”
I lift a brow. “That right? Got it all figured out, do you?”
She bites her bottom lip, looking way too pleased with herself. “We both need to blow off steam and burn some adrenaline. But the next time you go out, pick up a couple of boxes of condoms.”
I chuckle, shaking my head at the sheer audacity of this woman. “A couple of boxes, is it?”
She flashes me a sly, knowing grin. “I have a lot of pent-up energy and don’t do anything by half-measures. I’m assuming you don’t either.”
I bark a laugh, shaking my head. Where the hell did this girl come from? Are all Canadian girls this crazy?
* * *
Harper
What am I doing?
Bryan is handing me every out he can think of, and I’m ignoring every single one.
Am I hot and bothered? Hell yeah.
Has everything I’ve said been true? Also yes.
But what I haven’t said is that I know exactly who he is. What his life means. What being with a man like him—a Quinn—would cost me in the long run.
It’s just…in this moment, I don’t care.
I cross my arms, grip the hem of my shirt, and pull it up and over my head. Cool air hits my heated flesh and my nipples tighten. “I couldn’t be bothered with a bra this morning.”
Bryan’s grin is slow, dark, and all heat as his gaze sweeps over me. “I see that.”
“And what’s the point of pretending you haven’t already seen the girls, right?”
He chuckles, shaking his head, his hands flexing against my thighs like he’s barely holding himself in check. “I swear, I didn’t look.”
I laugh, my fingers already tugging up the hem of his T-shirt, dragging it over his broad chest. Inch by delicious inch, I reveal the ink and then the nipple piercing.
“Thank you,” I say sweetly. “I don’t believe you, but thank you for saying it.”
Bryan huffs a laugh, but the second he sits up to help me remove his shirt, our bodies shift together, rubbing in the most deliciously sinful friction. A sharp pulse of heat sparks low in my belly, making my breath catch.
From that point, it’s a frenzy to get naked—clothes being yanked away, limbs tangling, heat building with every scrap of fabric that hits the floor.
Bryan moves me effortlessly, lifting me like I weigh nothing, spinning me, controlling my body like he’s been just as hungry as I’ve been.
I’m not a small girl—almost six feet tall, solid, strong. I’ve never felt dainty in my life.
But with Bryan…I do.
When we’re both naked, he sits me straddled across his hips, right back where I started, his enormous hands branded on my skin. He bites his bottom lip, and it’s a devilish look on him, his heated gaze dragging over every inch of me.
“Fuck, yer fit.” His voice is low, gravelly, dark with promise. “That’s a huge turn-on for me.”
I grin, sliding my hands down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath my palms. “You’re pretty chiseled yourself.”
He waggles his dark brows, flashing me a cocky smile. “So, now that we’ve established that we’re both sexy as hell, any requests, trouble?”
“Orgasms,” I say, matter-of-factly. “Many of them.”
He chuckles. “I like a woman who knows her mind. Multiple orgasms it is then.”
I have no doubt. “And I want to suck on this bad boy. Have I mentioned I love to suck cock?”
He bites his bottom lip, fighting not to chuckle. “I don’t reckon that came up in conversation.”
My hand trails lower, my fingers tracing his muscular pelvic-V of sin to where his cock is standing hard and thick. “And I also want to come on your mouth and glaze your face like a donut.”
Bryan’s head tips back as he barks a laugh, the sound deep and wicked. “The things you say. Glaze my face…och, that is now my favorite phrase ever spoken.”
His hands are already on my hips, gripping, lifting me enough so he can slide down the bed, his heated breath ghosting across my skin.
He settles between my thighs and groans deep in the back of his throat. He takes an unhurried look at my pussy hovering above his face and grins. His fingers dig into my skin, anchoring me in place.
“Friends who fuck,” I murmur, my attention already fragmenting.
“Aye, friends who fuck.”
I gasp as he pulls me down to sit on his face at the same time he lifts his head. His tongue circles my clit, and he crushes me against his mouth. “Fuck. Ye even taste like trouble…like sin itself. Addictive.”
A rush of cream meets his praise, and I grip the headboard of the bed and throw my head back.
I could get addicted to this, too.
“Oh, this feels amazing, but honesty, I can’t wait to add your big, manly cock into the mix once we get condoms.”
He laughs again, the vibration sending a sinful ripple through me. “How can ye blush as red in the face as ye do about me seein’ yer bum when the nurse gave ye a shot and then turn around and talk like this?”
“I’m a complex woman.” I place a hand on the top of his head and push him back to my core. “Focus. I want your A-game.”
The words are barely out of my mouth and Bryan is feasting on me like he does most things, with confidence and aggressive intensity.
My hips rock, the flick and swirl of his tongue drawing out a decadent need in me. A greedy thrum builds deep in my core, my pussy aching.
I let the keening build and shut out the world.
Bryan Quinn is a dangerous man, and this is probably a bad idea, but sometimes a girl needs a really bad boy for a great afternoon.
I cry out as he grips the rounds of my ass and pulls me to sit heavier. I’ll likely end up with his fingerprints bruised in the flesh of my ass, but I don’t care. He’s eating me like he’s starving and I’m his personal buffet.
The subtle tremble in my legs grows stronger and I let out a groan. “God, that’s so good.”
He chuckles against my core. “My twin would tell you not to inflate my ego. I’m not a god, trouble, but you can call me one if you like.”
I roll my eyes. I’d come back at him with some sassy quip if he wasn’t taking me to a place I’m not sure any man has taken me to before.
I let out another moan as my climax builds and he grips me tighter. “I believe ye promised to glaze me like a donut, luv. I’ll just let ye know, I’m ready and waitin’.”
It’s all too much. My body shatters as my inner muscles clench and release, greedily throbbing, making me even more hungry to be filled by him.
I want him.
I ache for him.
He sweeps his tongue through my folds, the roughness of his stubbled chin rubbing me as he devours the last waves of my orgasm.
The muscles in my legs are quaking as I pitch forward and roll onto my side.
He crawls up the mattress, grabs his phone off of the side table, and rolls onto his back. After taking a quick selfie, he wipes his massive hand over his glistening mouth and chin. “Och, I like this donut game. Although, I reckon we can do even better with a bit more practice.”