Chapter 39 Sadie #2
She had completely forgotten she even had that app, let alone that she’d swiped on anyone. But there it was, bold and unmistakable: New message from Reggie.
Shit. A distant memory clicked into place. One of boredom, horniness, and sheer self-sabotage. A terrible combination that had probably started most wars and judging by the tension slicing through Quentin’s posture, another one was about to detonate in her living room.
Sadie’s mouth went dry. She dropped the bag of chocolate on the coffee table, her skin suddenly too tight. “Huh. Wonder what that’s about.”
Quentin’s gaze slid to her, slow and heated.
“I mean, it could be spam. Like a promotional message. ‘Congratulations, you’ve matched with a man who claims to be an entrepreneur but actually sells fake Rolexes out of his trunk.’”
Her laugh was weak. Quentin’s expression remained unreadable, but his eyes… they burned. A slow, simmering kind of heat. Something controlled, but dangerous.
“Let me explain,” Sadie started, voice a little too high. She stumbled forward on the words. “I swiped on him weeks ago. It was stupid. A moment of weakness. I wasn’t thinking. I just—” Her voice cracked. “I just wanted to prove something. Mostly that I didn’t want you.”
Quentin still didn’t speak or move. His jaw was tight, nostrils flared, tension radiating off him in waves. Sadie swallowed, ignoring the way her heart slammed against her ribs. She grabbed the phone from his hands.
“Look,” she said, swiping open the app, her fingers trembling just slightly. “I’ll message him and tell him I’m not interested. Because I’m not.”
Sadie tried to breathe past the panic clawing up her spine.
Not because she owed him anything. She never had cared what a man thought about her and she never felt the need to justify herself.
But this wasn’t just any man. This was Quentin.
And for the first time in a very long time, she was terrified of what it would mean to lose him.
Her pulse hammered as she swiped open the messages from Reggie.
REGGIE: Fancy seeing you here. Sorry I’m just seeing your message…
REGGIE: Listen, you're beautiful.
REGGIE: And I’m sorry to let you down.
REGGIE: But I’m kinda seeing someone now…
REGGIE: Hope we can still be friends!!
“Oh,” she breathed, slumping against the couch. Relief washed over her in a wave so strong she nearly laughed. “He’s seeing someone!”
Quentin let out a slow, unimpressed breath, his expression no less intense. He just sat there, jaw clenched so tight she swore she could hear the faint grind of his teeth. The tension rolling off him was thick, palpable, something sharp and barely contained.
She shifted, suddenly unsure. “Say something,” she pressed. “Please.”
Instead of answering, he took the phone from her hand and placed it onto the coffee table.
“Do you remember what we talked about, Sadie?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “I promise, I’m not seeing anyone else. I guess I was just in denial for a while and…” She broke off, realizing she was starting to ramble.
He nodded, slow and measured, but everything else about him was coiled, barely held in check. The muscle in his jaw ticked. His shoulders were tight, like his whole body was one wrong word away from snapping.
“What gets me… what fucking boils my blood is that the little shit actually thought he had a shot. That he believed for even a second he could touch you.”
He leaned in, crowding her space, not to intimidate but like he needed to remind himself she was here, with him. His gaze roved over her like he was taking inventory of everything that already belonged to him. “That if the timing was different, you might’ve ended up with him instead of me.”
“That pisses you off?” she asked, voice softer now, taunting. Testing the line she knew she was dancing way too close to.
He let out a low, humorless laugh. His hands flexed against his thighs like he was physically restraining himself from touching her.
“Pisses me off?” he echoed, eyes narrowing, voice coiled tight. “Sweetheart, I don’t just want him gone. I want to rip time apart and stitch it back together so he never laid eyes on you. Hell, I’d carve out the part of his brain that remembers you exist.”
His jaw flexed. His nostrils flared. Each breath dragged through his nose, sharp and ragged.
“If he so much as thinks about you again, I’ll tear his fucking eyes out.”
He broke off, but only barely. The fury in him was alive, prowling just under his skin. It should have terrified her. It should have been too much.
Instead, it burned. Dark, primal, possessive and God, it went straight to her core. Heat seared through her like fire catching dry brush, wild and merciless. She was wet in an instant, aching for him.
She edged closer, the barest brush of her thigh against his. His muscles snapped taut, fists clenching like he was holding himself together with nothing but willpower.
“No eye-gouging required,” she whispered. “I only see you.”
His hands reached for her, rough and certain, dragging her into the space between his spread thighs. He crowded her, caged her and she melted into it, not wanting anywhere else in the world.
His fingers traced a slow, electric path up her arm. Goosebumps bloomed in their wake. He stopped at her throat, thumb pressing just hard enough to catch the frantic hammer of her pulse.
“I don’t share what’s mine,” he growled, voice scraping over her ear, raw and possessive. A shiver shot through her. Her thighs clenched, desperate and useless.
“Aye aye, captain,” she tried to joke, but her voice cracked.
“You think this is funny?” Quentin’s voice sank lower, dark heat edged with warning. His stare pinned her in place, unblinking, unrelenting.
Her pulse kicked hard. Heat coiled deep in her belly, dripping down her spine like molten wax. She opened her mouth to answer, but the words tangled and died in her throat. He tightened his hold barely, just enough to drag a gasp from her lips.
“No,” she breathed. Dizzy on adrenaline, on him.
His hand slid lower, dragging heat with it. He cupped her breast through her shirt, kneading until her knees nearly buckled. His thumb found her nipple, teasing, rolling, flicking until a broken whimper spilled from her throat.
“Do I need to prove,” he rasped, voice raw and guttural, “exactly who you belong to?” Every syllable scorched her, branded her. She nodded, frantically.
He froze. Then the corner of his mouth curved slowly. “Wrong answer, sweetheart.”
His free hand dropped lower, between her legs, pressing into the heat of her through her thin shorts, right where she was aching. “Your body already knows who you belong to.”
A sharp cry tore from her lips as her hips bucked helplessly into his hand. Quentin leaned back slightly, studying her like she was prey too foolish to run. His eyes burned, dark and merciless.
“Strip,” Quentin said, voice low but razor sharp.
Sadie’s breath caught. She slipped from his hold and rose to her feet, her pulse pounding in her ears.
She started slow, almost teasing, sliding her shorts down, then tugging her shirt over her head.
He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even twitch.
When she stood in just her bra and panties, his dark eyes raked over her, hunger simmering beneath the surface.
“All of it,” he said, voice thick and demanding, but patient. “I won’t ask again.”
Her throat went dry. Heat shot up her spine as she unclasped her bra, letting it slip from her fingers. Her nipples peaked in the cool air, flushed and aching. Then she slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pushed them down her hips, stepping out slowly.
Quentin’s gaze devoured her whole. He hummed low, the sound vibrating from his chest. He didn’t move at first. Just let his gaze drink her in, eyes hooded. She felt every second of it, heat pooling between her legs, knees weakening.
“Get on the bed,” Quentin ordered, voice low and vibrating with command. “On your hands and knees.”
She bristled at the words. She hated being told what to do.
Every instinct screamed at her to dig in her heels, to push back just to prove she couldn’t be controlled.
But this wasn’t the same. It was about him and the way his voice lit something deep in her that had nothing to do with defiance.
She didn’t just want to obey. She ached to.
Her blood thundered in her ears, a wild, rushing beat that matched the pulse between her thighs. She turned, breath shallow, and walked into the bedroom with her skin already prickling in anticipation.
The sheets whispered beneath her fingers as she climbed onto the mattress, her knees sinking into the give of it. Cool air licked over her overheated skin, drawing a shiver down her spine.
She lowered herself onto the bed. The cotton clung to her palms as she spread them wide against the mattress, heart hammering.
She arched her back without thinking, ass high, thighs spread.
She was so wet she could feel it, the heat slicking between her thighs, sliding down the tender insides of her legs.
Behind her, he made a sound. A low, guttural thing that sent a shiver racing up her spine.
She peeked over her shoulder, catching him standing there like he was barely keeping it together, one hand gripping the hard length straining against his jeans.
The look in his eyes made her clench tight, desperate for him.
She faced forward again, heart pounding, hearing the harsh drag of his zipper. Her breath hitched, her fingers curling into the sheets.
The bed dipped and then she felt his teeth sink into the soft curve of her ass, sharp enough to make her yelp. The sting melted instantly into liquid heat, sparking a shudder that rolled straight through her core.