Chapter Forty
Quinn - Present Day
Once we finish our walk, we all eat lunch together, before Bones and I reconvene in the trauma room. We recap our walk with the group, laughing at Ted’s antics. I sit back down in my respective seat, and as he’s sorting out the ketamine infusion, he breaks the silence.
“How’s your pain today?” he asks as he adds the drip to the cannula but doesn’t open the line up just yet.
“Controlled, I would say. I feel sore after my walk, and I know I’ll struggle for the next few days as I recover, but I took my stick with me, and I took regular breaks. You can check with the boss if you need to.”
“There’s only one boss in this house, Little Magpie.”
“Yep, Ted.”
He glares at me. “Don’t you fucking start with me. I’m trying really fucking hard not to bend you over my lap and spank the sass out of you. Help a guy out, please.”
“You can’t say that to me; that’s really triggering.”
His face looks panicked, but he must notice the slight curve of a smile on my face because he says, “That was a low blow, Magpie. I’m filing that one away for later.”
“Well, the beauty of a safe word is that I can make jokes about my triggers because if I say it, you’ll know I’m being serious. But on the bright side, I’ve gone from crying all the time to making jokes about my trauma. Progress, not perfection, am I right?”
“You’re more fucked up than I originally thought. You might just be beyond helping.”
“Nahhhh. You told me once that no one was beyond helping. Besides, you love a challenge, don’t you?”
“More than you know.” He pulls his chair as close to the front of me as he can get, and he takes a seat.
He leans forward until he’s inches from my face.
His hands find my hips, locating the little indent in them—under the apron belly, of course, which I didn't even notice him lift slightly—and he presses, sending shocks of pleasure bouncing around my body.
I gasp. His breath dances across my face as his breaths get faster and more shallow. Jesus fucking Christ.
“He can’t help you now, Little Magpie.”
“Huh?”
“Jesus.” Fuck, I said that out loud. “Even if there was an iota of you that I believed was religious, Little Magpie, he couldn’t help you now. There’s only one person that can help you find the release you need—me.”
I clear my throat. “What about those boundaries?”
“The ones you threw out the window yesterday? You let the genie out of the bottle, baby girl. There’s no putting him back now.”
I gulp. And while I’m in the middle of breathing in his scent with my eyes closed, he pulls away, taking the chair with him. “But, for now, we’ve got work to do. You’ll just have to sit there, wet and wanting, until I’ve finished with you.”
I melt into a puddle and quite literally soak my seat. I can feel the material of my leggings—thankfully black—becoming damp, my legs trembling from the low growl that echoed in his voice.
Where has this man been hiding for the whole of my life?
I breathe out, carefully, determined not to let him see the very apparent reaction he’s had on me, and clear my throat.
“Okay,” I croak. I try again, a smirk on my face. “Yes, sir.”
Two can play at that game, Mr fucking Valentine.
“So, Quinn,” Bones says.
“Don’t do that,” I reply.
“Don’t do what?” he asks, confused.
“That’s not my name where you’re concerned, and it feels like you’re calling me that as a punishment for us breaking boundaries so that you can maintain some distance.”
He looks shocked. “That’s not the case at all. I would never do that to you.”
“You asked me to always be honest with you, so that’s what I’m doing. I can count on two hands the number of times you’ve called me Quinn, and I doubt I would even need one of them. And you especially don’t call me Quinn in this context.”
“Okay. Well then, I think this is a good place to start. Are you ready for me to start the infusion?”
I nod. “You have to remember that things that would be little to you, like my name, aren’t little to someone who has experienced the kinds of relationships I have.
Things like that are how my ex-husband would punish me with silence.
Same with my mother and brother. They would joke and call me ‘Quinny’ in a tone that made it sound like they were recalling their dog.
You’ve set a standard in our relationship, whatever that may be defined as right now.
Yesterday, you didn’t call me Quinn. And the only thing that’s changed between yesterday and today is that now you know what it feels like to have my lips on yours.
“I hear you. You’re right. I hadn't thought about it from that perspective. But I also didn’t realise how much I called you by your nickname.” He sounds apologetic, and I feel bad.
“I’m sorry if I came across too harshly.”
“No. You’re right; I asked for honesty, and I appreciate you giving me what I asked for. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to be that honest with me.”
I smile. “I do. So let’s just stick to the nicknames unless absolutely necessary, okay?”
He nods at me before reaching over to stroke my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ears. He bends down to kiss me on the forehead before opening the line for the infusion.
“Here we go again…”