22. Quinn
22
QUINN
E very time Lance touches me it’s better than the last. But this time, I feel a fresh tension humming between us. An electrical current that makes my pulse pound and my stomach flutter. And when our palms meet and he pins me down against the bed, I think I might just lose my mind.
I love the way he takes control. The way he owns my body.
I honestly don’t care about anything those assholes said tonight. Because, with Lance, I never have a doubt about how he makes me feel. Special. Cherished. Like I’m something precious he would do anything to protect. And at the same time, I love this fierce territorialism. I wonder if he’s fucking me this passionately because of those Agosti men’s taunts. Or if it’s because we just had a near brush with death.
Whatever the reason, I want more.
Because this sex is so hot, I’m surprised we haven’t lit the bed on fire.
And I know that I’m on the brink of coming for a third time already.
“Come with me,” I whimper, desperate to feel his satisfaction pouring deep inside me.
And though I know I shouldn’t want it—especially when we’re still keeping our relationship secret—I wish I could feel Lance come without a condom between us. I want to know what it would feel like to have him fill me with his seed.
“Come,” Lance commands, thrusting deep inside me as he drives into my G-spot.
And I cry his name as I topple over the edge. Rippling around his hard length, I milk his cock. His pulsing bursts of cum fill me with warm satisfaction, and I moan lustily, my muscles relaxing as I taste the mingled euphoria in the air.
Lance slows, coming to a stop inside me. And we take a moment to breathe heavily in each other’s arms. Gently, he releases my hands, taking his weight onto his forearms so he can look down at me.
“You’re something else. You know that?” he rasps.
Giggling softly, I lift my head to brush my lips across his. “And you’re incorrigible. But hell if I could stop you. Your ability to turn me on should be illegal.”
Lance chuckles. “That wouldn’t stop me from doing it.”
He eases out of me, and though I would love nothing more than to curl up and snuggle, we both slip off the edge of the bed to get dressed.
“We might want to clean those stitches one more time before I dress them,” I state as I pull my pants up over my hips. Then I snag my bra off the floor and quickly clasp it into place.
“Whatever you say, Nurse King,” he jokes, winking at me as he buttons his pants closed.
My stomach flutters, and my cheeks warm at the flirtatious way he gives me a title.
And as I reach down to collect my shirt, loud, hammering knocks on the door make me yelp. Horror grips my chest, and I quickly scramble back into my shirt as I hear the knob turn.
“Quinn?” Killian demands, entering my room with only a moment’s warning.
“Yes—yes?” I gasp, quickly combing my hair down and praying it doesn’t look like I just had sex.
Killian stops short as he finds me and Lance in my bathroom, Lance’s ripped shirt still on the floor, his bare chest exposed. And this feels dangerously similar to the last time Killian caught him in here. Only this time, we actually were doing something he would be pissed about.
“Why was the door closed?” he demands, frowning as he looks between me and Lance.
“Oh. I…Was it? I must have closed it out of habit,” I say, struggling to keep the breathlessness out of my tone. “I needed to stitch Lance up.”
“Natasha told me you came in all bloody,” he states, dropping the line of inquisition as his gaze shifts to Lance. “What happened?”
“Agosti men,” he says curtly, and I wonder if Killian can see just how tense he looks.
“We were attacked,” I fill in, drawing the attention back to me. “My clinical ran late tonight, and they were waiting for us in the parking garage.”
“Attacked?” Killian demands, his eyes flashing.
“I think they came to take me again,” I explain, adrenaline flooding my veins at the memory.
“They were making good on Lucian’s threat,” Lance confirms darkly, his scowl deepening.
Sighing, I turn back to my counter and open a drawer to look for a dressing square. Because now that we’re out of the fire, I know Killian will want to talk business with Lance. In the meantime, I can finish fixing him up.
“How many?” Killian asks.
“Four. They didn’t seem to realize I was watching over her. One even mentioned that they thought I was dead. I guess it makes sense since they haven’t seen much of me since I took a knife to the chest.”
Killian bristles visibly, his temper rising. “And I guess they haven’t been keeping close tabs on Quinn to notice. Maybe they thought I would back down after getting back at Lucian for taking her.”
Lance shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. I slap them back down, frowning at him for disrupting my work, and his lips twitch with amusement as he gives me a silent apology. My core clenches from the momentary attention, my panties growing wet instantly, and I studiously turn my eyes back to the gauze as I tape to his ribcage.
“And now that we clearly aren’t backing down?” Lance presses after a moment’s silence.
“He wanted to show me what happens when I don’t do as he says. Bastard. I’m sick of his egotistical power plays.” Killian’s eyes flash, making my heart stutter uncomfortably. “I’m letting you off your leash,” he states coldly after a moment’s pause. “Find our way in. We’re finishing this.”
“Wait, what?” I demand, my back snapping straight as I look between my brother and the man I love. “Finishing what? Find your way in where?”
My heart hammers painfully against my ribs as I get a sinking sense of foreboding. I know Killian uses Lance for the dirty, dangerous jobs he can’t do himself—and that he can’t trust to anyone else. But if the Italians have pushed my brother to the point of “unleashing” Lance, then this can’t be good. And I’m worried that Lance will put himself at unnecessary risk when he’s starting to look more like Frankenstein’s monster or Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas than he is a man, what with all his stitches.
Killian’s green eyes crackle with fury as he meets my gaze. “Lance wants to search for a way to infiltrate the Agostis’ headquarters and kill Lucian.” Then he shifts his eyes back to Lance. “I tried to give Tatiana time to do it her way, but I’m done messing around. No one gets to tell me what battles I fight. And they sure as hell don’t get to threaten my sister’s safety without consequences.”
Lance nods in agreement, and my stomach drops. Because it’s happening again. The men who mean the most to me in this world are putting their lives at risk. Without a concern for how that makes me feel. And for what?
A war between the Russians and the Italians.
We have nothing to do with this.
“If this is about me, then I don’t want Lance to go. We’ll find another way,” I insist.
But Killian shakes his head. “No, Quinn. I thought maybe I’d sent a clear enough message by wiping out that bastard captain who gave the green light to hurt you like they did. But clearly not. And if Lucian doesn’t want to censure his men, then he’s not fit to lead them. Any man who wants the right to be called don should put mad dogs like that down without question. But he didn’t. Instead, he sent more men after you.”
“You should have heard the way those filthy animals talked,” Lance adds fuel to the fire, nearly growling the words as he spits them between his teeth.
And I know I’m fighting a losing battle here. Neither of them are worried about what might happen to Lance. They’re too busy being macho and trying to prove their might is bigger than Lucian Agosti’s.
“They were just trying to scare me,” I insist. “And they’re dead now. So, what does it matter? Killian, can’t you try talking to Lucian?”
“Talk?” Killian scoffs. “We’re well past the time for talking, Quinn. He’s shown complete disregard for this family. For the empire our father built. He murdered my wife’s parents, tried to claim Manhattan as his own. No, Lucian has to pay. And unfortunately, Tatiana’s men aren’t fully on board with her as their new leader—which means if we want this job done right, it’s time to take matters into our own hands.”
“I’ll go tonight,” Lance states.
His certainty strikes fresh fear into my heart because I know how reckless Lance can be with his own safety. And he and my brother are so hot-blooded—he might just throw himself into a half-baked plan that could get him killed.
But I know if I say as much in front of my brother, he’ll sense something’s off. Because I’ve never spoken up so boldly to Lance in front of him before. I’ll have to wait for an opportunity to speak my mind. But I can’t let him leave tonight without saying my piece. If I did and Lance died, I could never forgive myself.
“Good,” Killian agrees. “Is he done being stitched up?”
He looks at me pointedly, and I feel my grasp on the situation slipping through my fingers.
“Nearly. He took a bump on the head I want to check before I release him,” I state in my best clinical voice.
Lance casts me a sidelong glance because we both know he didn’t get hit in the head, but he doesn’t argue. And my fib seems to pay out.
“Fine,” my brother concedes. “Finish up. Lance, meet me in my office when you’re done. We can go over your plan of action.”
With a curt nod and a grunt of acknowledgement, Lance turns back to me, and Killian departs. But when he reaches the door to my bedroom, he pauses.
“I’ll leave this open,” he states pointedly, looking at the door then back at me.
“Thanks,” I agree, knowing better than to push my luck.
And as my brother vanishes into the hall, I release the heavy breath I’ve been holding since he came in.