11. How haven’t I tired you out yet?
ELEVEN
How haven’t I tired you out yet?
I didn’t lose my virginity. ‘Lose’ implied I wanted it back, cared it was gone, or would otherwise miss it. I liked to think we took it out back, clubbed it to death, lit it on fire so it’d never bother me again, and gave it a nice funeral. But now I had a new problem, a very big one: Quinn.
With one taste of him, I never wanted to let him go—or let him let me go, as the case currently was. He trapped me against him, cuddled close, and kept nibbling on the back of my neck. He had exhausted me, made me feel way too much, and somehow left me wanting more.
Unfortunately, I had a second problem: I needed to pee.
Where was the bathroom, and how was I supposed to reach it when every muscle in my body protested even the thought of moving? I ached in places I hadn’t known I could. Worse, I wanted more. I wanted Quinn over and over again.
But first, I really needed to pee. “Quinn?”
“Mmmm?” He really needed to stop nibbling on me. If he didn’t, I’d never want to leave his bed. “How haven’t I tired you out yet?”
Determined to say something other than ‘let me up or I’ll pee on you,’ I replied, “Where’s your bathroom?”
“But I like it when you’re dirty.”
Nice. I liked it when he was dirty, too, and he liked showing me just how wonderfully sinful he could be.
Screw it. “Let me up or I’ll pee on you.”
Quinn laughed and pointed at a closed door. “Through there.”
It would be a lot easier to escape his warm bed if he let me go.
I wiggled free, shivering at the way his hand skimmed over my skin, and made a strategic retreat to the bathroom.
Marble floors, a huge tub with jets, and a separate shower promised I’d spend some of the best moments of my life in Quinn’s home.
That was it. If he wanted me to leave, he’d have to kick me out, and I’d fight tooth, claw, hoof, and horn to stay. “I’m never leaving,” I declared before closing the door.
Point to me. I didn’t slam it like I often did when overly excited or pissed.
He chuckled, a sensual, rumbling sound.
Police Chief Samuel Quinn wouldn’t be laughing when I made myself at home in his tub and made good on my promise never to leave.
I took the quickest shower possible before preparing for the nicest soak of my life.
In one of the three big cabinets, I found a bottle of sea-scented bubbles and a staggering number of body washes.
Later, when I finally drifted down from the heavens and crash landed back on Earth, everything would go wrong. I’d find out I was in a hospital again or dead, the usual result of doing the right thing at great risk, having helped a lot of people—and Quinn—because I could rather than for a paycheck.
Alternatively, maybe the universe was rewarding me for a job well done and sent payment in the form of Quinn. Was he the naked model? Maybe he was a gift from Santa, because I sure as hell couldn’t figure out why the man would want me of all people.
And holy shit, had he wanted me.
I could die happy, and I eased my way into the warm water with an ecstatic sigh. Life, for the moment, was absolutely perfect. I wanted to kiss whomever had invented bathtubs with jets in them, as the rush of water not only made the bubbles better but also worked the stiffness out of my muscles.
A phone rang, evidence I was somehow in a very real world. Quinn cursed in the bedroom and answered, “It better be an emergency, otherwise, the answer is no. Gardener’s taking a bath, and there’s no way in hell I’m bothering her unless it’s really important. What is it?”
Quinn had just sealed his fate, which he would learn soon enough. By defending my bubble bath, he signaled the end of his reign as a free man.
Damn it, that had to be the predatory unicorn in me still talking.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t. Could anyone blame me for wanting to stay in heaven after having found it? Maybe I’d, in some horrible fashion, done Quinn a favor by taking those photos of his ex-wife. Maybe if I pitched the argument in the right way, I’d believe it for a little while.
I submerged to my chin and snorted so the bubbles wouldn’t go up my nose.
Quinn made a frustrated noise in the other room.
“I may require a manual. How long should I leave Gardener in the tub before it’s safe?
What? What the hell do you mean there’s no manual?
You’re the one who wants me to come into work tonight.
That’s not at all reasonable. Under the assumption I can coax her out of her hard-earned bath, we’ll come to the station.
Probably around ten, since we’ll need dinner first.”
There was a long moment of silence, and Quinn gave one of those little growls that made me hold my breath so I could better listen while my toes curled.
“No, I’m not leaving her home alone. She can sleep on my couch at the station, supervised.
Those are doctor’s orders—she’s to be supervised in case exposure to so much neutralizer compromised her immune system again.
She’s coming in with me, and that’s final. ”
Quinn hung up, and at the rate he was grumbling and growling, he’d lose his voice in short order.
I thought long and hard about what I’d overheard. Obviously, I’d need to address the whole leaving the house at all issue. Wait. He planned to be at the station by ten? After dinner? What time was it?
The last time I had checked a clock, it had been eight in the morning. How long had we been occupied in his bed?
And elsewhere in his home. Everywhere in his home. I thought about that long and hard.
No wonder I was sore.
Quinn knocked on the door. “Bailey? We need to go to the station in a few hours.”
“What time is it?”
“Just before seven.”
“At night?” Somehow, I avoided squealing the word.
“Unfortunately.” Quinn opened the door and peeked inside. “Please tell me you’re not a vegetarian. For some odd reason, my fridge is loaded with meat.”
“Cook it up, bring it in, and serve me while at least half-naked. I seem to recall winning a certain bet. And don’t you forget my grapes, Mr. Samuel Quinn.”
I really liked his wicked smile, which made him look like he would pounce and have his way with me given half a chance. “Your wish is my command.”
It no longer mattered if I was suffering from drug-induced hallucinations, had discovered heaven in the afterlife, or even if reality had turned in my favor for a change. For the moment, everything was perfect, and that was good enough for me.
I went from better than fine to sniffling and sneezing before we left for the station.
After a short but fierce argument, which ended with me against the wall, trapped by Quinn’s warm body, he won the battle by shutting me up with his mouth on mine, but I won the war.
Convincing him I’d die of shame if I went back to the hospital again classified as underhanded, but so was him using his weapon-grade lips against me.
“I really should be taking you to the doctor,” he murmured in my ear.
“I should be taking you back to bed, but no, I have to go to work with you. When I’m so sick I can’t fight with you over it, then you can take me to the hospital.
Until then, I’m fine.” While I thought I’d be better than fine curled up on his bed, wrapped up in his blanket, using his pillow, he refused to leave me in his home unattended.
Since Quinn had ripped the sundress in his hurry to get it off me, I wore pajamas.
Leaving for the station at nine at night justified my choice.
Since he wasn’t letting me stay in his house alone, I’d stolen his blanket off his bed and stuffed it in a bag along with a pair of jeans, white t-shirt, and a black leather coat so I’d have something to wear when I went shopping for a new wardrobe.
“We don’t have time to go back to bed again.”
“I can dream, can’t I? It’s not my fault they hosed me down. It’s their fault I caught a cold.”
“Bailey.”
“What?”
“Just shut up and get your ass in the convertible.”
“But I can’t. I’m trapped.”
He chuckled, dropped another kiss on my lips, and pulled away. “Don’t touch any buttons, you. You’re a disaster waiting to happen, and I like that car. If you start pressing buttons, I’m certain you’ll find a way to break it.”
“That’s me. Bailey, the walking catastrophe.
” I sighed, snatched the bag of clothes and pilfered blanket, and dragged it to his car.
While I could have put my ill-gotten gains in the two seater’s trunk, I crammed it between my feet to prove I could make everything fit despite his doubts.
“Hah. I told you I’d fit. Hey, wait a minute.
I’m the one who’s supposed to be bossing you around. ”
“We’re not in the house anymore, so deal with it, Gardener.”
True, the garage technically wasn’t in the house. “So I guess I can’t get you to start stripping out of your uniform in the car?”
“Not a chance.”
“Damn, Quinn. You’re mean.”
“No. If I were mean, I’d be taking you to the hospital instead of to the station, where I’m sure you’ll give every on-duty officer your cold. I really should take you to see your doctor. It’s right on the way.”
“Please don’t.”
“Then you better buckle up, shut up, and sleep quietly on my couch while I keep a close eye on you.”
I snorted. “You’re not going to be watching me. You’re going to be sleeping on your desk while drooling on your paperwork, Chief.”
“You’re worth it.”
I blushed. His statement, spoken with a smug smile, made me wonder just how long he’d been interested in me.
Why? Why couldn’t I work up the nerve to ask him how he could possibly like me enough to want to sleep with me, especially after I had photographed his wife with another man?
Guilt gnawed away at me, and I shifted on the leather seat.
“Put your seatbelt on, Bailey. Cop, remember? There’s no way I’m leaving my driveway if you aren’t buckled in.”
Ah, right. Wearing my seatbelt would help, wouldn’t it? I buckled in and sighed. “Even after…?”