Chapter 36 Quinn
QUINN
AUGUST — ONE WEEK UNTIL THE PRESENTATION
“Absolutely not.”
My chest caves in as we get yet another rejection from a faculty member, this time from a tenure-track professor in the creative arts department.
We’ve been trying to sell our new plan for the past three days, and so far not a single person has taken the bait.
We’ve approached professors of all different positions—tenured, tenure track, and instructors—and everyone has an excuse not to tie themselves to us.
We’re meeting in Colton’s office, which is about three times the size of mine. I shoot him a look from my spot across his desk and he nods slightly, giving me the reins.
I shift my chair so I’m facing Dr. Gleeson. “I know it’s a big commitment, but—”
Dr. Gleeson doesn’t even try to disguise his reason for saying no.
“It’s political suicide to go against the older faculty members, and you know that, Colton.
” He places his elbows on his knees, leaning toward Colt’s desk in a way that seems intentionally designed to cut me off from the discussion.
“We’re both tenure track. Why are you taking this risk? ”
Guilt settles in my bones. Hearing another faculty member so blatantly call out how dangerous this is makes my stomach roil.
Colton places his forearms on the edge of his desk, mirroring Dr. Gleeson’s stance. “I have every intention of getting tenure when the time comes, which means I’ll spend my entire career on this campus. Why wouldn’t I choose what’s best for the place I’m going to spend the next fifty years?”
Dr. Gleeson stares down Colton for a solid minute, weighing what Colt said against what he knows about campus. A wave of hope rises in me. He’s considering it—genuinely considering it, not just humoring Colton—and if we can get him, maybe we can get enough people to make it work.
Then he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
He gets up without so much as a goodbye, squeezing past my chair. The soft click of the door closing behind him feels like thunder ringing through the office. Colton lets out a frustrated sigh.
It isn’t going to work. All this planning and stressing and hard fucking work is going to be for nothing.
I’ll be laughed out of the auditorium, and I’m going to take Colt down with me.
He won’t get tenure and will have to start over from scratch at another school.
Who knows where he’ll land. His new university could be across the country and I’ll never get to see him.
“We need to call it,” I say to Colton’s ceiling.
“You’re right,” he says, and my stomach drops.
I’ve been waiting for this, the moment when he decides I’m not worth sticking his neck out for. He’s been so steady, and I started to believe he’d remain that way forever.
But everybody has their limits, and it would seem I’ve found Colton’s.
“It’s been a long day,” Colt says, stretching as he stands from behind his desk, a tempting sliver of skin appearing above his waistband. He walks over to the door Dr. Gleeson escaped through, flipping the lock on the door. “And you deserve a night to relax.”
I blink back tears when I realize him agreeing to “call it” meant for the day, not the program.
“No,” I say, the word embarrassingly wobbly. “I meant this plan. We’re banging our heads against the wall.”
Colton walks across the room to me, taking the seat Dr. Gleeson vacated, pulling it so our knees knock just like on the Janiculum Hill when I was ready to give up this summer. “It’s not doomed.”
“Colt,” I say with a pathetic little laugh, “We’ve met with six professors and haven’t gotten a single yes. All we’re doing is negatively impacting the way the professors view you. There are over fifty other universities in Boston. I can find something else and still stay close.”
Colton tugs my hand, pulling me from my seat and into his lap. Determination is etched on his strong face as his hands find my waist. “We’re not giving up. If you need a break, that's fine. I’ll handle it.”
The air rushes out of my lungs. “What?”
“You’ve been taking these hits for eight years by yourself. You’re exhausted, but I know how much you love it here. Let me fight for the both of us until you feel strong enough to fight again. If it doesn’t work out, then we can talk about a plan B.”
Those pesky tears are back again.
“I think I need a hug,” I squeak. “Can I have one?”
Colton smiles softly, and it sets off a riot in my chest. “Always.”
His hands slide from my waist around my back, anchoring me to him like he always does.
The calm to my chaos. I twine my arms around his neck and lay my head on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart, as strong and reliable as the man before me.
His chest swells against my head as he takes in a deep breath, and I turn my face into his chest in a futile attempt to hold back the tears.
“I don’t want to tap out,” I say into his shirt, “but if we’re not giving up, we at least need to change something. What we’re doing isn’t working.”
He hums, the sound vibrating through my body and down to the tips of my toes. “You need a champion.”
I tilt my head so my chin was on his chest. “A champion?” I ask skeptically.
He gives me that little half smile. “Every queen needs one.”
I laugh and push on his chest. “I already had two incredible knights. And as valiantly as you fought, the war still seems to be lost.”
“I didn’t say you need another knight. I said a champion. Someone so strong that people will think twice before issuing a challenge because they’ll have to go through them.”
The likelihood of finding someone who will instill fear and awe in the Billings faculty and who will be willing to stand beside me is infinitesimally small. It’s so unrealistic it’s almost laughable.
“When did you become an optimist, Colt?” I ask.
His lips quirk up an inch. “I’d guess somewhere between kissing you for the first time and you saying you love me.”
I groan. “Oh my god, you’re such a fucking sap now. I’m telling everyone.”
“No one will believe you,” he says.
I’m mid-laugh when he captures my mouth, his smile pressed to my own. As teasing as the kiss begins, it escalates quickly. Colton repositions me so I’m straddling him, and I push down, feeling the way he hardens for me. The soft grunts and hisses I elicit with the slide of my hips give me life.
His hands slip under my dress, dipping into my underwear to grip my ass as he takes control of our movements, dragging me along with the perfect pressure.
I love the way he grasps me, hard and bruising, like he’s worried I may slip through his fingers like water.
One of his hands moves around my body until he reaches my core, already soaked for him.
“We don’t have time for this,” I pant against his mouth.
“Our meeting was cut short by that asshole,” he says. “Pretty sure we have the rest of the day for whatever we want.”
“There are plenty of other things we need to work on.” The words are pathetically breathy, and they break completely when he slides two fingers inside me.
“You deserve to feel good, Chaos,” he says against my neck. “Let me make you feel good.”
His thumb rubs against my clit, the perfect pressure, and any other objections die on my tongue. There’s no stress, no presentation in a few days that we’re wholly unprepared for, no professors waiting to see us fail. There’s only Colt and his hands and the safety of his body against mine.
He slides a hand into my hair, gripping tightly and angling my face toward his. “Open your eyes, Chaos. Let me see you when you come for me.”
I didn’t even realize they’d closed, so focused on the sensations, but I listen and force them back open. I’m instantly captured by his moss green eyes, intense and loving.
“You are spectacular,” he says as he picks up the pace of his circles on my clit. “So fucking spectacular. I can’t believe I get to see you like this.”
“Colton—” I can’t get out more, can’t form coherent sentences when he’s taking me apart.
“I love you, Quinn,” he says, and that’s enough to tilt me over the edge.
I don’t have the clarity to hide my moan, but Colton’s there, protecting me like always, swallowing the moan so it doesn’t leave his office. His fingers keep moving, not letting up until he’s certain he’s wrung out every ounce of pleasure possible.
I collapse against his chest, sucking in breaths in an attempt to come down from the high.
“Feeling better?” he asks smugly.
I pinch his side, but don’t have the strength to lift myself off him. “So fucking pleased with yourself.”
He chuckles against my hair, dusting a soft kiss there that has my heart leaping. “Now that you’re not so stressed, I have someone in mind to help us, but before I say who, you have to promise to stay quiet and let me make my whole case before you tell me no.”
“That’s not ominous at all,” I say sleepily. “Did you get me off as a form of manipulation?”
“Are you complaining?” he asks.
“No,” I say around a yawn, the exhaustion from the past few days settling into my bones. “You should use that particular form of manipulation a few times a day for the rest of our lives.”
He chuckles, shifting his arms more tightly around me. “Do you agree to keep quiet while I argue my point?”
I sigh and shift backward so I can see him properly. “Fine. I’ll stay quiet.”
“Great,” he says with a firm slap to my ass. “Here’s what I’m thinking.”