Chapter 7
seven
Storm
T he morning sun filters through the partially closed drapes to highlight the dark stubble covering the jawline of the sleeping man beside me. The night—oh, I don’t have words to describe last night. Marvelous. Thrilling. Extremes of pleasure. Tender. Those don’t even come close. What we had was so much more than I imagined possible.
It's not like we set a record number of times making love. I stop that thought before it takes root in my heart. We had sex. That was it. Sex. Except I’ve never experienced any deeper emotions before. I’d learned early on not to expect anything more after sex. I enjoy giving pleasure to a guy, but no one has ever reciprocated so much. Hell, Quinn went above and beyond anything I hoped for.
Definitely quality over quantity. And nothing to complain about.
Except maybe the whisker burn on my inner thigh.
No, not even that can sour the memories I’m going to store away for those future lonely nights.
Before I get maudlin, I inch closer and press a kiss to Quinn’s chin.
“I was wondering how long you were just going to stare at me.”
The rough, morning gravel in his voice rumbles through me, centering at my core in a swirl of sensation. This man. I want this man, now and, dare I admit it even to myself? Yes, I want him forever. I think I’m in love. I’ve never been there before. I’m not sure if this is love or just left over lust.
“And you’ve been pretending to be asleep,” I counter.
“Not long, my sweet woman, not long.” He rolls to his back and stretches, showing off the sheet covered tent of his morning wood.
“You’re shameless.” But then, so am I and I slip my hand under the sheet to wrap my fingers around him. If I’ve counted correctly, I owe him one and start with long, firm strokes.
“You don’t have to,” he says but makes no move to stop the slide on my hand up and down his length.
“I want to.”
“Hang on a sec.”
Grinning, I hold his gaze and instead of stroking, flex my fingers around his girth. “Gladly.”
Since I won’t release him, I don’t know how he manages to shift so his shoulders are propped by pillows enabling him to watch how he grows and twitches under my hand job. Resting my cheek on his chest, I feel more than hear his mumbled encouragement and pleasured groans. When beads of pre-cum form, I capture the silky moisture with my palm and spread it over his cock. I love how he feels in my hand, almost as much as how he feels inside my body.
His shout of release surprises us both and my strokes slow as he jerks and throbs in my hand.
“Storm, fuck woman, what you do to me.”
“Looks like we need another shower.”
Later when we’re finally getting dressed, my phone rings. “It’s officer Cortez,” I say before I answer. My heart sinks as I listen then agree to meet her at the station.
Quinn moves closer and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “What’s up?”
Shaking my head, I collapse onto a chair. “This just keeps getting better and better.” When he pulls the other chair closer, sits and takes my hands, I continue. “They brought a drug sniffing dog in to check out the apartment next door. One of the places it indicated was in the wall between that apartment and mine. When the cops opened up the wall, they busted all the way through into my apartment.”
“Did they find drugs?”
“She didn’t say what kind, but yeah they did. A lot of drugs. The space between three sets of studs was practically full from floor to ceiling. Consequently, I can’t move back into my place for an indeterminant length of time. She’s got questions, probably just some routine kind of stuff and wants me to come into the station. While I’m there, we’ll make arrangements for me to retrieve anything else I want from the apartment.”
This inconvenience should bother me more. Now the decision about moving I’ve been waffling over for a couple months has been taken away from me. I stare into Quinn’s concerned expression. “There’s not much there that can’t be eventually replaced. The main problem is now I have to find a new place to live.”
His lips part and I hold up my hand to stop him from saying exactly what I know he’ll say. “No, Quinn. You don’t need to help. I’m a big girl. I can do this on my own.”
The moment he decides not to argue shows in his expression and I bite back a chuckle. Suddenly, I don’t want to face all this shit alone. The security of having someone who cares, who is concerned for my welfare standing at my side is more appealing than independence. I’ve been on my own for so long, I’m not sure what it feels like to have honest support from another person. Quinn could be that person. If I let him in.
I cup his cheek, slightly disappointed he’s shaved. “I can do this on my own. But Quinn, I don’t want to. I’m tired of being strong. That doesn’t mean I want to turn any part of my life over to someone else. I just want to be able to talk through a problem with another person. I want suggestions that come from a mind other than my own. Not that I’m always going to take those suggestions.”
“Storm, baby, I can be that person for you. I admire your strength, how you take care of you. I want to support that, and every part of you. Just make sure to tell me when I get out of line.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you’ll be the first to know.” I’m not sure if our words count as a promise, nor what kind of a promise, but we do seal the moment with a long, leisurely kiss.
When we come up for air, he asks, “Where would you like to get some food? I think we missed breakfast. And brunch. Do we need—do you need to go to the police station first?”
“No, Cortez said mid-afternoon is fine. I could use some fresh air. Could we walk somewhere? Maybe just stroll the Strip and stop when someplace looks good?”
“Perfect.”
“What about the kids?” His children have taken up a large portion of my heart and I enjoy spending time with them. Today, I want just the man with no distractions. To learn more about him, who he is, and maybe, figure out why I’m so attracted to him. Why I might even love him.
There’s no such thing as love at first sight. However, I’m beginning to believe love might happen at second or third sight. I don’t know if I can trust that belief for myself, even when just thinking about Quinn makes me feel jittery and so alive.
“I talked to Helene while you were drying your hair.” Quinn’s statement startles me from my thoughts and I focus on him. “The kids got up late for them and have been enjoying a movie. She’s planning a quiet day with them, probably spending most of the afternoon down at the pool. So we’re free until it’s time to get ready for the Tournament of Kings.”
“The jousting show?”
Quinn laughs. “Yeah. It’s Emmerii’s choice. As much as Isaac loves trucks, she adores anything to do with King Arthur. She’s never been enamored of Disney princesses, but she knows a lot about Guinevere.” He holds up his hands and wiggles his fingers. “And we get to eat with our hands. That’s what Isaac is looking forward to.”
I struggle to keep the sharp tone of jealousy from my words. “I’m sure you’ll have fun.”
He presses his warm lips to my cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re coming too. Helene insisted on giving you her ticket.”
Once we reach the Strip, Quinn laces his fingers through mine. “Okay?” he asks.
I nod and we stroll along the sidewalk, dodging tourists and those who prey on the unknowing. Even though our conversation remains on general topics he seems distracted, often glancing back toward the street. He does it often enough, a feeling of dread settles over me.
When we stop to read a menu posted on a huge window and I catch him watching the reflection instead, I make him face me. “What’s going on?”
He quickly masks the concern tightening his lips with a smile. “We’re looking for a place for lunch.”
I poke his chest. “Not what I mean and you know it. You keep looking over your shoulder and watching the street. What. Is. Going. On?”
With his sharp exhale, his shoulders drop. “The other night when we left your apartment, I thought a car followed us. A white sedan. But it never got close enough for me to catch the license or anything. It kept going once we entered the parking garage, so I didn’t think much about it.”
“There’s a lot of white vehicles. And there was a lot of traffic. How can you be sure it was the same one?”
“Logically, I’m not. But something feels ‘off’. I can’t put my finger on what that is. Then yesterday I noticed the same car behind us on the way to the dam. And then again when we returned to town.”
Some of his concern is rubbing off on me and a twist of worry tightens in my chest. “How can you be sure it was the same car?”
“There’s a small dent on a front fender, so I’m ninety-eight percent sure. That same car has passed us a few times this morning, too. Windows are tinted dark so I can’t tell anything about the driver. At least I’ve finally got the license number. Since seeing this car over and over started at your complex after a drug bust, I think there’s probably a connection.”
Panic constricts my throat. What if I’ve put him in danger? Worse, his kids could become targets. I clutch the front of his shirt in a fist. “Quinn, if that’s true they probably think I know something about the drugs or their operation. I don’t. I suspected but kept to myself.”
His hand covers mine. “I know. Since nothing has happened, no contact or threats, whoever is probably just watching us.”
“Shit, Quinn. And we’re going to the police. What if…”
“Calm down, baby. It’s going to be okay.”
“How can you say that?” I gesture toward the street. “If they follow us to the police, they’ll never believe I don’t know anything. I can’t put you in any more danger. Not you, not your kids. You go back to the hotel. I’ll go alone.”
“You will not. No, don’t fight me on this. The kids are safe with Helene. You’re safe with me.”
“You can’t know that.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and the gesture somehow calms my fiercely beating heart. “No, I can’t. But you don’t need to face the possibilities alone. I’m here. I want to be here. By your side.”
Drawing me closer, he pauses a moment then lowers his lips to mine. This is a gentle kiss and he takes his time as the easy movements of his mouth against mine seal his determined promise. There’s a smattering of soft applause as we ease apart. My face burns and I hide my embarrassment against Quinn’s chest. He holds me and rests his cheek on the top of my head. The gathered crowd moves on noisily.
With his curled finger tucked under my chin, he lifts my head until I look at him. “Ready, baby? You and me?”
Knowing if I don’t agree he’ll still find a way to be my protector, I sigh. I don’t want to face the implications of all this by myself. I don’t want to be alone. “You and me.”
I don’t think I can eat now, so we wander to the closest hotel and Quinn arranges for a cab to take us to the police station. While we wait, I study each passing white car, wondering if my future is somehow connected to the driver. Will there come a day when that car shows up at Dad’s shop? Am I putting him and the rest of the guys there in danger, too? All because I’m too stubborn to move out of a rundown, cheap apartment?
Waiting at the station, Quinn holds my hand but the contact does little to relax my tense muscles and overthinking brain. This isn’t like the other times I’ve had to wait at a station, when I’ve had to pick up Dad after some altercation. I still can’t stop the anxiety making my heel tap rapidly against the floor. I thought I’d outgrown that nervous habit years ago. Luckily once we’re called back to a tiny room, officer Cortez’s calm demeanor and easy smile help me find the calm needed to answer her questions.
When Quinn tells her about the suspicious car, she takes careful notes and promises to investigate. “Although,” she tells us, “as far as I know, there hasn’t been a vehicle with this description observed near the apartments. We’ve been keeping a close watch on the area, and with this information we’ll have a better focus. If you see the car again, give me a call immediately. Don’t take any risks.”
Quinn and I take another cab back to the Excalibur and grab some tacos from the food court before heading back to his room. While he spreads our meal out on the small table, I stare out the window toward the Strip. The mid-afternoon streets are filled with traffic and I’m glad this room is on the twenty-fourth floor. I can’t see the drivers and they can’t see me. I can pretend everything’s fine. There’s no possible danger in my life.
Other than the danger of completely falling for a man I know very little about. That lack can start to be remedied over lunch. I take my seat and unwrap a soft shelled taco. “You never have told me what you do for a living.”
With his head and neck at that uncomfortable angle needed for crunching into his crisp taco, he pauses before taking a bite. Watching him chew, I wait. He’s avoided the topic before. I won’t let him get away with it this time.
“Construction.”
“Good business for Vegas. Seems like there’s always something being torn down and rebuilt. Houses or commercial?”
After another bite, he sets his taco aside. “Both actually. It’s a family business. I’m fourth generation.”
“That’s impressive.”
He shrugs. “In it’s own way, Shallmar Construction is a Vegas institution.”
Wait. What? “Shallmar?”
With a half grin he takes a sip of his soda. “My great-grandfather didn’t want to use his name for his new company. So he switched the syllables.”
“You are Shallmar construction? That means…”
His grin slips and he hesitates before asking, “Means what, baby?”
“You’re rich. What are you doing staying in this older hotel. You can afford the penthouse in any?—”
“I told you. This is where Emmerii wanted to stay. I have no desire to show off. In my mind, I’m just a guy who happens to own a successful company. Successful enough to only take projects now that are meaningful and good for the area. This allows me to get to know and care about those who work for me. It’s what I do. Not who I am.”
My heart drops lower with each of his words. He’s rich. Probably one of the wealthiest men in a city created to celebrate wealth and the famous. Then there’s me. Just who am I? I work hard yet barely scrape by. Oh shit, he doesn’t still think I’m after money, does he? Have I done anything that might lead him to believe that?
“Storm, I’m not sure what’s going on in your head.”
“You’re rich.”
“We’ve established that fact. So?”
“I’m not. Hell, I’m not even sure I’m living that much above the poverty level. You did really think I left my keys in your vehicle in order to meet you. That I’m taking advantage, that I want something—money—from you. I don’t. Quinn, I promise I don’t. I had no idea.”
He grabs my flailing hands. “Storm, stop. Look at me.”
Refusing to lift my gaze to his, I toss my head. I don’t want to see, won’t survive the condemnation sure to be filling his expression.
“Storm.” His voice goes deep and demanding. “Look at me.”
Taking a slow breath, I do. There’s no disbelief or contempt in his eyes. His lips are pressed together, but not in anger. As I watch, those lips twitch into a tired grin. “That’s it, baby. I need you to pay attention. I’m no different than I was five minutes ago, before you knew about my business. While the way we met is unusual, I thank fate, destiny, or whatever that it happened. Because even in this short time, I’ve come to care for you a great deal.”
My mind is at war with my heart and I don’t know what to think. The sting of tears makes me blink. Why are there tears anyway? I’ve got nothing to cry about. Except… except his kindness. His understanding. The look in his eyes. “I do, too. Like you a lot, I mean.”
“Can we simply be us? No dollar signs between us? Will you take a chance with me? Storm, I want to be with you.”
He takes a breath as though to say more but presses his lips together again. I can’t deny I want him in my life. All my life I’ve been scraping by, first with Dad as he built his business, now while trying to make it on my own. I don’t know how to act around someone who’s had money and privilege their whole life.
I learned how to survive with nothing. I don’t have much beyond that ability and my skill with motors to bring into a relationship. Do I dare? “I want to be with you, Quinn. I just don’t know how.”
“Let’s start with this.” He stands and pulls me into his arms.