13. Lance
13
LANCE
G lancing at the bedside alarm clock, I make note of the time: 1:56 a.m. And Quinn’s still restless. They come in fits, her nightmares. And it doesn’t matter how much time passes, they seem to grow worse each night.
Grinding my teeth, I try to reason with myself that she’ll get through it. She’s a strong girl. A woman, really. She just needs time. But I hate the sound of her whimpering pleas. Every night, they rip me to shreds. And at the same time, her cries make my blood boil.
It breaks my heart to think about what happened to her. In truth, I’ve hardly slept since that night because the thought of it plagues me. Those men putting their hands on her. Hurting her. All to send a message. If they thought it would make us back down, they made a grave mistake.
From Killian’s reports, at least the Italians aren’t getting away with what they did. The Kings have been brutal in our retaliation—none of which I’ve gotten to take part in. And it sets my teeth on edge to know that I didn’t get to watch the life drain from those men’s eyes. I’m not sure if it would have been enough to satisfy me. But at least then I would know, deep in my soul, that the men who hurt Quinn could never do it again.
Killian saw to that, and I trust my foster brother inherently. He wasn’t about to let those bastards breathe a moment longer than it took to find them. Still, I would have loved to break every bone in their bodies.
Releasing an aggravated sigh. I close my eyes and try to relax, letting Quinn’s soft, troubled murmurs become background noise. With monumental effort, I get my muscles to unwind, my mind to stop perseverating on the traumatized young woman across the hall, and the bloodlust burning in my veins to cool.
I focus on my breaths—in, out, in, out, in…until the dark sense of foreboding that shrouds me seeps away.
“No, please!” Quinn screams, bringing my body upright and adrenaline pounding through my veins. “Let me go! Let me—get off me !” she shrieks, her voice so desperate and full of genuine terror that I’m struck with the horrible fear that someone might actually be in her room.
They could have broken in through her window, though anyone getting past the house’s defenses would be a masterful feat, if not impossible.
But as Quinn’s pleas continue to grow more frantic, I have to see for myself.
Springing out of bed, I snatch up a pair of joggers and haul them on as I run.
Heart hammering against my ribs, I fling myself across the hall, wrenching her door open with such force, I nearly take it off its hinges.
Quinn’s cries come to an abrupt halt as I flick the light on, filling the room with a golden glow. And I find her sitting up, her back pressed firmly against her headboard, curled into a tight ball with her knees to her chest.
She’s as white as a sheet, her green eyes as round as dinner plates, and she’s trembling like a leaf as her head swivels frantically to find something—or someone.
“Quinn?” I rasp, my throat tight with anxiety.
Quickly I scan the room for any indication of an intruder. And when I look back at her, our gazes meet.
Then, all at once, she bursts into tears. Burying her face against her knees, she sobs. And my wall of stoic defense crumbles completely. She looks so damn…broken. It just might kill me. Without thinking it through, my feet are carrying me across the room.
I settle onto the corner of her bed, scooping her into my arms. And I gather as much of her up as I can in my desperation to keep her in one piece.
“Are you okay?” I murmur, my heart thundering against my ribs as I continue to search the room. But everything looks perfectly in place. The window is locked. The bathroom empty as far as I can see.
“It was just another bad dream,” she says between hiccuping sobs. “It just felt so real,” she breathes. Then she buries her face against my chest as she trembles violently.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” I breathe, rocking slightly in the hopes that it will soothe her.
Slowly, her tears start to subside, her breathing grows steadier. And as her quivering calms, she sags against me, as if all the terror has completely sapped her strength.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her breath washing across my chest, and it’s the first time I notice I didn’t put a shirt on in my haste to get to her.
“For what?”
“I must have scared the hell out of you screaming like that.”
She releases a shaky laugh, and it makes my chest tighten, my heart twisting painfully.
“I’m just glad you’re safe,” I rasp, my throat tight with an inexplicable ache that makes me feel like I could cry.
And I realize belatedly that it’s because I’ve never meant words more sincerely. I don’t know what I would do if Quinn weren’t alright. I think I might just lose my mind. And it’s earth-shattering to realize just how deeply it would affect me if anything were to happen to her.
“Lance?” she says tentatively, keeping her cheek pressed to my chest, her lips brushing softly across my pec.
“Mmm?”
“Would you stay with me? Just for a little while?”
The lump in my throat is near impossible to swallow, but I force it down as I pull her more snuggly into my arms. “Of course,” I rasp. And I scoot her gently over so I can settle back against her headboard.
Releasing the breath trapped in my lungs, I rest my head back against the solid bed frame and look up at her ceiling. I take a moment to appreciate her steady warmth radiating into me, the soft way her body molds to mine. She fits perfectly against me, and feeling her heartbeat settling into a calmer pace against my ribs, her soft breaths steadying across my chest feels shockingly comforting.
And as we stay like this in peaceful silence, I feel my heart swell inside me. An affection I’ve never known before flickering to life. A fondness for Quinn that’s different from what I felt for her as I watched her grow up. It’s dangerously close to attraction. And I realize too late that letting Quinn get under my skin could have dangerous consequences.
Because it feels far too good to hold her close like this.
To have her in my arms.
Closing my eyes, I take another deep breath as I will away my errant thoughts. And I focus on the fact that Quinn’s stopped shaking. I should be grateful for that. Not thinking about the fact that she’s a beautiful woman and we’re in her bed.
“Lance?” Quinn whispers, and I hate how much I like when she says my name.
“Hmm?” I ask, lifting my head to look down at her.
And at the same time, she tips her chin up to meet my eyes.
Suddenly, our lips are within inches of each other’s, and my breath freezes in my lungs as the air around us crackles to life.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “For everything.”
I should say something. Anything.
Tell her that she has nothing to thank me for. Because I would protect her without a second thought. And I know that this is my opportunity to mend the hurt I created before. But I can’t seem to summon the words. Only, this time, it’s because I can’t seem to get past the fact that Quinn’s perfect, Cupid’s bow lips are dangerously appealing. And far too close.
Her breath catches, her lips parting slightly, and when my eyes snap up to hers—as I realize I was fixating on her mouth—I find her looking at my lips. Then slowly, tentatively, she tilts her chin higher. And presses her lips to mine.
White-hot arousal blasts through my veins, turning my blood molten. And suddenly, the room feels charged with such intense sexual tension, my muscles tighten. Her mouth feels sinfully good against mine. Her cute peach-colored lips shockingly soft and malleable. I’ve kissed plenty of girls in my time. I’ve lain with more than a few.
But this, right here, kissing Quinn King, is different from anything I’ve ever known.
And though I’ve never tasted alcohol, never tried a single drug, I suddenly wonder if this is what it feels like to be high. Because I have absolutely no control over my body.
Blood hammers through my veins, making my ears roar as my cock throbs to life. And I’m rock-hard in an instant, tenting my joggers with my intense need to know Quinn more intimately.
A groan of intense longing rips up my throat as Quinn’s soft, talented hand slides up my chest and around my neck, her fingers combing into the short hair at my nape. Her breath hitches, her lips parting with the sweet, sensual gasp.
And like the traitor it is, my tongue delves out to take advantage of the opening. Because I want to taste Quinn more than I want to continue breathing. I don’t care that kissing her could very well mean the end of my life.
Right now, all I can think about is how entirely, how consumingly I want her.
And Quinn’s doing absolutely nothing to slow me down. To temper this intense attraction thrumming through my veins. Instead, she uncurls slightly from her tight, defensive ball, pressing her soft breasts against my chest as she melts into me.
Cradling the back of her head, I deepen the kiss, holding Quinn’s fragile body close as I devour her sweet lips. Her tongue dances out to tangle with mine, our lips moving in tandem. And when my hand slowly travels down from her tangled mass of curls to the soft curve of her lips, Quinn moans.
“I want you, Lance,” she breathes against my lips, the intense desire in her soft voice leaving no room for misinterpretation. “Please…take me.”
And I know I’m a goner.
Because nothing on God’s green earth could stop me from following her command.