The Acquisition of Us

Chapter 1

Avery

The bass thudded low and steady under the floorboards, a pulse that worked its way up Avery’s spine as she leaned against the bar at Velvet, one of Brooklyn’s newer queer bars. It was sleek but not pretentious, moody lighting, dark booths, rainbow lights flickering over the dance floor.

She was three shots in and loose around the edges. Her cheeks were flushed with alcohol and the thrill of doing something she hadn’t done in a long time.

Gabby slid a fresh drink into her hand. “This is either your comeback era, or a bad idea waiting to happen.”

Avery laughed. “Can’t it be both?”

They had already danced for a while, a group of sweaty bodies and the kind of movement that wasn’t about who you were dancing with as much as how good it felt to move. Now Avery was perched at the bar, catching her breath, sipping something citrusy when she turned to scan the club—and froze.

There she was at the entrance, framed by the dim red glow, the most striking woman Avery had ever seen.

Tall, effortless, and alone. She wore black slacks and a fitted vest with no shirt beneath, just skin and collarbones and the sharp, lean line down her sternum.

Avery’s pulse tripped, her breath catching before she could stop it.

Her hair was cropped close at the sides, short on top, platinum and soft-looking, like it would feel like silk under someone’s hand.

It looked like she had run her fingers through it once and left it that way.

“Holy fuck,” Avery let out a stunned exhale.

Gabby turned. “What?”

“That,” Avery said, nodding subtly. “That woman, she just walked in.”

Gabby followed her gaze, eyebrows lifting. “Damn.”

“I’m buying her a drink,” Avery said.

“Oh, we’re doing this?”

“We are.” She handed off her half-finished drink and stood straighter. She rolled her shoulders back, steadying herself. She was attractive and a damn catch, but this? This woman was something else. Cool and unreadable and somehow not trying at all.

By the time Avery reached her, the woman had made her way to the opposite end of the bar, waiting for the bartender’s attention. Avery slipped beside her, casual. She smelled faintly of something expensive. Clean and sharp, edged with smoke.

“Let me get that,” Avery said smoothly, as the bartender approached.

The woman turned slightly and, up close, she was even more beautiful. Tall, over six feet, with long limbs and a slim, commanding posture. She looked down at Avery, a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

“You offering to buy me a drink?” Her voice was low and cool, but not unfriendly.

“I am,” Avery said, green eyes holding steady. “Unless you make a habit of turning down beautiful women in bars.”

A pause, then a small smile, just barely there. “Depends on the drink,” the woman said.

Avery grinned. “Pick your poison.”

She ordered something neat—of course she did.

“I’m Avery, by the way,” she offered as the bartender slid the glass across the bar.

“Quinn,” she said, taking the glass.

“Quinn,” Avery repeated, like she was trying it on. “Not from around here, are you?”

“That obvious?” Quinn sipped her drink to hide her smirk.

“You dress like a sexy CEO who took a wrong turn and landed in a queer bar.”

Quinn’s mouth twitched. “Would it make you feel better to know it wasn’t an accident?”

“Oh, it makes me feel much better.”

The music thudded between them. A couple brushed past them, laughing. Quinn’s eyes moved over Avery, just a little, and Avery liked the way it felt. Like being studied.

“You here with someone?” Quinn asked.

“My friends,” Avery said, jerking her chin toward the group that was clearly fake-not-watching her from across the room. “They’re judging me right now, but they’ll get over it. And you, what are you doing here?”

“Me?” Quinn said, sipping again. “I’m here to blow off steam.”

Avery raised an eyebrow. “Rough week?”

“Let’s say I’ve got a big meeting on Monday, and I don’t feel like thinking.”

Avery tilted her head, just a little. “Well, I’m good at helping people not think.”

Quinn’s gaze dropped to her lips for half a second, and Avery’s pulse went wild. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was a silence that stretched long enough to count as flirting. Avery held out a hand. “Come with me.”

“I don’t really dance,” Quinn protested.

“Everyone dances,” Avery said, tugging her gently. “Or at least, everyone I like does.”

Something flickered in Quinn’s eyes, hesitation, then surrender. She drained the rest of her drink and set it on the bar. “All right, one song.”

Avery laughed and led her into the sea of bodies. The music thudded through them, bass and heat under shifting lights. Quinn didn’t move much, just enough to stay with her. Avery danced close, hips rolling, eyes never leaving Quinn’s.

“You’re really bad at not being hot,” Avery said, her body pressed close to Quinn’s.

“You’re really bad at pretending you don’t know you’re beautiful,” Quinn said, pulling Avery in fully.

Avery leaned in, lips brushing just near her ear, up on her tiptoes. “You want another drink, or do you want to kiss me?”

Quinn leaned down, breath warm. “Kiss you, obviously.”

And then she did. It wasn’t soft or tentative.

Quinn kissed like she didn’t have time for games, confident, unhurried, tongue just barely teasing.

Avery matched her beat for beat, one hand gripping the front of Quinn’s vest, the other on her hip.

The kiss was hungry and electric; the kind of kiss that made people stare.

It left Avery breathless, a little light-headed, like the room tipped slightly off balance. Quinn’s eyes stayed locked on hers, a beat passed and then, “Come back to my hotel with me.”

Avery loved that it wasn’t a question. She opened her mouth, paused, and then laughed once, dry and breathless. “How do I know you’re not a serial killer? Like, some terrifyingly hot lesbian serial killer just waiting to strike?”

That made Quinn laugh, really laugh. Not a polite smile or a snort. A full, head-thrown-back, uninhibited laugh that cracked something wide open in Avery’s body.

God, she was gorgeous when she laughed.

Quinn leaned close, breath warm against Avery’s neck, voice low and velvety smooth. “If “If I were planning to kill you,” she murmured, “I wouldn’t be this desperate to know what you sound like when you beg.”

Avery blinked. Her stomach dropped and twisted in the most delicious way. Every nerve lit up at once. “Okay,” she said, voice barely audible. Then she shook herself, trying to gather a shred of composure. “But I’m telling my friends where I’m going, just in case you are a murderer.”

“Fair,” Quinn said, one corner of her mouth pulling up again. “Deal. Hotel Astor.”

Avery turned and made her way back to the group. Gabby took one look at her and raised both eyebrows. “You good?”

“I’m great,” Avery said, grabbing her clutch, taking out her phone and typing something out quickly. “Just need you to know where to send the authorities if I get murdered.”

“Jesus Christ,” Andrea muttered. “This is what happens when you leave the house horny.”

“Hotel Astor,” Avery said, ignoring them, texting the hotel name, along with Quinn’s first name and just in case, 6’2, hot CEO, devastating smile, serial-killer vibes but the hot kind.

She looked up, saw Quinn watching her from across the bar, eyes sharp and waiting. Avery smiled, took one last breath, and hugged Gabby before walking toward her.

“Okay,” she said, stopping in front of Quinn. “I’m good. I’ve alerted the authorities; you’re officially on record.”

Quinn arched a brow but didn’t respond. Instead, she reached out and laced her fingers through Avery’s. “Let’s go,” she said simply, tugging her gently toward the door.

Her hand was warm, her lead was confident, and Avery followed.

The air outside hit cool against her flushed skin, the thump of bass fading as the door shut behind them. Quinn let go just long enough to raise an arm and hail a cab.

Avery blinked. “Seriously?”

Quinn turned. “What?”

“You are definitely not a New Yorker.”

Quinn smirked. “I’m efficient.”

“That’s not how New York works. That’s getting stuck behind garbage trucks and double-parked Ubers for the next thirty minutes or more.”

Quinn didn’t answer.

“We can walk,” Avery said, stepping closer. “Or take the subway, it’s only a few blocks.”

“Six.”

“So?” Avery tilted her head. “What’s it gonna be, serial killer?”

Quinn sighed, but there was no real annoyance in it. “Stop calling me that.”

“I’ve yet to uncover any real proof you’re not.”

Quinn stopped on the sidewalk, turned slowly, and pulled Avery in by the belt loops of her jeans, close.

She kissed her like the street had fallen away, hands steady, thumbs warm at Avery’s jaw. Her lips were soft but certain, her mouth parting with quiet insistence. The kind of kiss that made the rest of the city disappear.

Avery blinked back, dazed, when Quinn pulled away. “I promise I’m not going to murder you,” Quinn whispered, her hands still cupping Avery’s face. “But I’m definitely going to make you scream.”

Avery swallowed hard. Her knees might’ve wobbled, just a little. “Okay,” she whispered. “Walking. Definitely walking.”

They walked side by side down the quiet stretch of West 13th Street, just far enough from the chaos of the bar to hear the rustle of trees and the distant wail of a siren cutting through the night. Streetlights cast a warm glow, bouncing off the wet pavement in pools of gold.

Avery shoved her hands into her pockets, still buzzed, still light. Her shoulder brushed Quinn’s every few steps. “You always pick women up in bars?”

Quinn didn’t look at her, just kept walking with that long, smooth stride. “Only when I’m out of town.”

“So, I’m a novelty.”

“You’re a fucking anomaly,” Quinn said, dry but edged with something honest.

Avery blinked. “That sounded almost like a compliment.”

“It was.” Quinn smiled.

They walked a few more steps in silence.

“Where are you from? “I don’t think I asked that already. If I did, I forgot. Your hotness distracted me,” Avery said with a small, breathy laugh.

“L.A.”

Avery made a face. “Explains the cab attempt.”

Quinn smirked. “Explains the lack of layers. And the need to control everything.”

“You do give control freak,” Avery said, lips quirking. “In the best way.”

“And you give trouble,” Quinn countered. “In the worst way.”

Avery bumped her gently with her hip. “You say that like it’s a deterrent.”

Quinn glanced at her, mouth curving slightly. “Well, it’s not.”

Avery was quiet for a moment. “So, you really walked into a bar tonight just looking for someone to fuck?”

“I walked into that bar looking for a drink and a distraction. You’re just a good distraction,” Quinn said with a shrug.

Avery shook her head, amused. “You’re so honest, it’s unsettling.”

“You’re not used to people being direct?”

“Not when they look like you,” Avery said, not even pretending to soften it. “Usually, women who look like you don’t have to say anything at all.”

That got Quinn to pause for just a beat. “And what do women who look like you usually do?”

Avery smiled. “Kiss hot women on the walk back to expensive hotels, apparently.”

They stopped at the crosswalk. The light changed, but Quinn didn’t move. “You keep saying things like that,” she said, voice low and husky, “and I’m going to have a very hard time not kissing you again.”

Avery took a step closer. “I never told you not to.”

The light changed again; they crossed in sync, shoulder to shoulder.

“This your normal pace?” Avery asked, teasing. “Or do you just walk slow so I can keep up?”

“You’re the one who wanted to walk, New Yorker.”

“Because it’s efficient,” Avery shot back.

“You just wanted more time to look at me.”

Avery laughed and damn it, she wasn’t even trying to hide how into this she was.

They reached the Astor, its sleek glass front gleaming in the lamplight. Quinn reached for the keycard in her pocket, swiping them into the lobby. It was quiet, polished, empty except for a concierge who barely looked up.

The elevator was waiting. Quinn held the door, and Avery stepped in. When it closed, they were alone. The silence between them was tight and charged.

* * *