Murphy's Law (26 page)

Quinton had to wonder if she'd ever allowed herself to have a lazy day spent in bed, maybe with someone waiting on her. He'd like to do that, and if he could talk her into it, the sooner the better. But he knew it'd have to wait until her classes were over.

“What time's your first class?” Denny asked.

“Ten-thirty.” She paused in the process of munching her third crisp pickle spear. “Wait a minute. You're going to follow me to school, aren't you?”

“No.” Denny thrust out his chin. “I'm going to drive you. Your car isn't here, and Quinton has his own work, not to mention some things to do to finalize the security additions.”

Quinton shook his head. “I can take a day off.” He had a meeting scheduled, but between Warren and Adrianna, they could handle it without him.

“I don't mind driving her at all,” Denny explained.

And Tim added, “Let him drive you, Ash. It'll give me a break from the workout.”

Ashley slanted a look at Quinton, then waved the pickle spear at all of them. “Let's get something straight here, okay? However I get to class tomorrow, when I finish up, I'm going to get my car and I'm going to drive myself back here. I won't be sitting helpless in Quinton's home.”

“Helpless?” Quinton snapped to attention. It relieved him that she planned to come back to his home, but she made it sound like he'd have her chained to the wall. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I like having options.”

“Well, hell, if you decide you have somewhere to go, I can take you. Or I have plenty of cars you can use.”

“I want
my
car. But,” she said, interrupting any objections, “I don't plan to go anywhere unless one of you knows about it. Until that crazy SOB is behind bars, I'm going to be very, very careful.”

Quinton wasn't sure if he'd won that one or not, but Denny seemed satisfied, so he let it go.

“Good enough.” Denny stood and stretched. “We're getting out of here, or you won't get any sleep at all.” He set the empty dishes in the sink and patted Ashley's shoulder as he passed her.

Tim pushed back his chair, circled the table, and bent to kiss Ashley's cheek. In an uncharacteristic display of concern, he said, “For God's sake, Ash, take it easy, will you?”

Bemused, Ashley nodded. “Uh, sure thing, Tim.”

Quinton smiled. “I'll see you guys out.” The men discussed last-minute details, but as soon as they'd pulled out of the garage, he set the alarms again, locked the door, and came back to Ashley.

She stretched, too. “I need a toothbrush.”

“Use mine.”

“Wow.” Pretending great surprise at his offer, she put a hand to her heart. “In some countries, sharing a toothbrush is part of an elaborate bonding ritual.”

Quinton pulled back her chair and picked her up again, holding her close to his chest. “In this country as well.”

“No kidding? I didn't know that.”

He kissed her to stop her teasing—and then he couldn't stop kissing her. It had been too long, and he'd been patient enough. Relishing her gentle weight in his arms, he strode down the hall, kicked his bedroom door shut behind him, and carried her into the bathroom. “Do whatever you need to do. I'll turn down the bed.”

She shooed him out, shutting the door behind him, and Quinton busied himself with the covers, his mind racing ahead to the point he felt nearly explosive. Rather than stand there waiting for her, he got into bed and propped his arms behind his head.

Staring at the ceiling, he listened to the sounds of his blow dryer, water splashing, and finally, Ashley opened the bathroom door. As she stood there in the lighted door frame, he saw that her hair billowed out, as if she'd had a hell of a time using his blow dryer one-handed. She'd also removed the flannel pants. Beneath the hem of his sweatshirt, her long legs looked pale, and too damn sexy.

For a while she simply stood there, staring toward him in silence. “I not only used your toothbrush, but your lotion, too. Now I smell like you.”

Why that would make him hard, Quinton didn't know. But he was so aroused he hurt. He pulled back the covers and patted the mattress. “Come here.”

He sounded savage, a man on the edge. A man overcome with lust.

Ashley smiled and turned out the bathroom light, leaving the room in darkness.

Guarding her cast, she lowered herself to the bed beside him. He braced himself over her, smoothed back her now-dry, very fluffy hair, and waited for her to call the shots.

She stared up at him, then whispered, “Alone at last.”

Rich in shadows, cool and quiet, Quinton's bedroom felt like the safest haven around. Using care not to clunk him with her cast, she put her arms around him. “I've missed you so much.”

His fingertips played over her face. “How do you feel?”

“Like I'll die if you don't make love to me.”

There was a moment of perfect stillness, and then Quinton snugged the sweatshirt up over her breasts. She could feel his hot breath when he said, “Tell me if I hurt you.”

She started to say okay, but his mouth latched onto her breast and she could do no more than arch beneath him. She was more sensitive than she'd ever been, the sensation of his mouth on her so acute, so delicious, that her aches and pains faded away, her worries lifted. He drew softly on her, tugging at her nipple, curling his tongue around her.

“Quinton?” She tangled her right hand in his hair. “Let's take off our clothes. I want to be naked with you.”

He lifted his head, and though she couldn't see his eyes, she knew his thoughts.

“I need to feel all of you. Please.”

“All right.” He sat up beside her. “Careful now.”

He helped to get her back out of the sweatshirt before standing beside the bed. She heard the rustling as he removed his own flannel pants and boxers, the opening and closing of a drawer, and when he came back to her, she felt the heat of his body and the tautness of his muscles.

“Much better.”

“Let's get you comfortable.” Using a soft, plump pillow, he cushioned her head, then went one further and placed another pillow under her hips. “Put your arms beside you. I don't want to bump your broken wrist.”

“You aren't going to hurt me.”

“I know.” Sensual command had entered his tone, seducing her as thoroughly as the fingers that trailed over her belly, just above the curls between her legs. “That's because you're going to be very still while I make you feel good.”

She closed her eyes and relaxed. “Okay.”

With a hand on each thigh, he eased her legs open. “I wish I could see you, but just knowing that you're lying here, open and waiting, is good enough for now.”

“What am I waiting for?”

He said, “This,” and licked her nipple before gently nipping with teeth. He added, “Here,” and his fingers pressed between her legs, but only briefly, long enough to touch her clitoris, to roll over it, tease, and send a shock of feelings through her.

He withdrew his hand to plump up a breast and suck.

Ashley bit her lip. Knowing what he intended, what he'd eventually do, heightened all her senses. She was so anxious, she couldn't keep still. He stroked her skin, cuddling her breasts and kneading her belly, but he didn't touch between her thighs again. Whenever the waiting became too excruciating and she couldn't bear it, she clamped her legs together. But he seemed to know it and each time, he urged her to part them again.

She was left open and waiting—just as he wanted.

Finally, he left her breasts and kissed each rib, tickling her, making her squirm. His fingertips drifted over her straining thighs as if in approval, as if urging her to widen them even more.

He dipped his tongue into her navel, trailed damp, hot kisses over to her hip bones, and then downward. Ashley moaned, pressing her head back and digging her heels into the mattress.

“Don't hurt your arm,” he reminded her.

“No. No, it's fine.” She couldn't even feel her arm. All she felt was a great throbbing need right—
where he kissed her.

“You're wet,” he murmured with deep satisfaction, and he parted her with his fingers, then lapped slowly at her, licking his tongue along her vulva, up and over her clitoris. With each leisurely pass, her tension heightened until she couldn't bear it.

But as usual, Quinton seemed to know exactly what she needed and when. With care, he worked two fingers into her, stretching her, rasping along sensitive nerve endings. He slid his fingers out, pressed them in again, and she felt his rough tongue stroking her, seeking, then his mouth closed over her so he could suck at her, and the tension snapped.

With a deep groan, her body trembling and shaking uncontrollably, she climaxed.

Quinton stayed with her, keeping the pleasure keen, until she moaned and pleaded with him.

In the next instant he was over her, gliding easily into her. He kissed her mouth and her throat while rolling his hips, gently riding her. The pillow kept her hips tilted to his advantage, letting him go deep, building the pleasure yet again. Another climax hit her, when she thought for sure she'd be dead to the world.

She clamped a hand to his backside and urged him in closer, harder, but he refused to let her set the pace.

“I won't hurt you, honey. I won't. I won't…” His words trailed off, he put his head back, and ground out his release.

His excitement swept her along until her every muscle went limp. Almost immediately afterward, he carefully moved off her. Cool air touched her heated damp skin, making her shiver. She reached for him. “Quinton?”

“I'll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get rid of the condom. Just lie still.”

Condom? He must have put it on when he removed his clothes because he sure hadn't paused before entering her. She smiled, liking that idea, imagining him hard while kissing her there…

The mattress dipped when he sat beside her. With his fingers he combed her hair away from her face. “You're okay?”

“You tell me.”

She heard his smile when he said, “All right. You're wonderful.”

“Yes, I am. Thank you. That was mind altering.”

“You don't say.” A cool, damp cloth touched between her legs and she lurched. “No, be still. I'm just making you more comfortable before we go to sleep.”

“I can do that myself, you know. I'm not handicapped.”

“I want to do it.”

It didn't seem worth the effort of argument. “Yeah, all right. Knock yourself out.”

He chuckled. “So, has your mind altered enough that you'll agree to move in with me?”

Though he said it casually enough, Ashley heard his reservation, his uncertainty with her and her acceptance of him. The lethargy left her, and a great thumping entered her heart.

Now would be a good time to tell him about the baby. She had no right to keep the news from him. He needed to know. The sooner the better.

But she couldn't get the words out.

She knew his thoughts on unplanned pregnancy, on unwanted babies.
She
wanted her baby—but how would he feel about it?

No way could she commit to living with him. Not until he knew. It wouldn't be fair. But neither did she want to cause a void between them tonight. She needed him. She needed to feel secure and loved—for just a little while.

“Give me some time, Quinton.”

He left the bed and went back into the bathroom, but returned in only moments. The bed dipped again, and he stretched out beside her, propped on an elbow. “Time for what?”

To get used to the idea of being responsible for two, instead of one.
But again, she held that back.

“Everything has changed so much.” It seemed easier to converse with the lights out, the darkness concealing. “For the longest time, it was just me. I mean, I had May for a friend, but I didn't have anyone else. No family, not even any close associations. And that was okay. It worked for me.”

His large, warm hand, so strong and capable, settled on her belly, and her heart lurched. His touch was so protective, so caring, when he had no idea a baby rested beneath his palm.

Tears filled her eyes, and she swallowed with difficulty—then put her hand over his. “I had no thoughts of dating, of involving anyone else in my life.” Her voice broke, and she wanted to curse herself. “Now there's not only you, but Denny and Tim keep turning up.”

“Like bad pennies?”

“Like caring friends.” Feeling like a fraud, feeling dishonorable, she turned toward him and nudged nearer. Tucking her face into his throat, she whispered, “It's so different from what I'm used to, I need to adjust to it all.”

His hand drifted to her bottom, pressing her closer. One of his legs went over hers. “If you're here, I can help you adjust.”

“Quinton.” She finally turned her face up to his. “Don't you see? This could be more of your macho protectiveness toward the poor little woman.”

“No.” He stroked her skin, lazy and confident of his purpose, familiar in a way she'd never imagined. “It's because I want to be with you, Ashley Miles, and your crazy schedule makes it almost impossible.”

Yet her schedule was about to get crazier still. “I'll think about it, okay? And while I do, I want you to consider all the ramifications.”

“You in my bed every night, with me in the morning for coffee, safer with me. I know what I'm asking, honey.”

Desperation brought a tremor to her voice. “It's not that easy.” His tenderness wore her down. She had to find a way to make him back off before she blurted out her news and destroyed their quiet time together. “Do you know that I got a C- on a test the other day? I've never scored that low, but instead of studying, I was…” Guilt choked her, but she forced herself to continue. “I was daydreaming about you, trying to cut corners so I could be with you. And my grades suffered.”

The silence following her accusation felt like a scream, resounding in her head. Quinton moved to his back beside her, still there, but not quite touching. “I'm sorry.”

Oh God, it wasn't his fault. In frustration Ashley started to curl her hands into fists, and her broken wrist protested with a sharp pain.

“
I'm
to blame, Quinton. It's my damned stupid plan that suffers when I get off track. I should—”

He rolled over her, touching her all over without hurting her at all, silencing her with his size and looming position, and his caring. “We'll work it out, okay? Let's give it a week to sink in, then we'll sit down together and discuss things.”

He had no idea they'd be discussing baby things, but she was a horrible coward, so she gratefully took the postponement. “Okay.”

He gave her a loud smooch. “Get comfortable and I'll settle around you.”

That made her laugh, but tears infused the sound. She only hoped Quinton hadn't heard them—or if he did, he said nothing.

Because the stitches on her face made sleeping on her right side nearly impossible, Ashley turned to her left side and positioned her cast in front of her. Quinton spooned her, settled his arm around her waist and, with a kiss to her shoulder, said, “Sleep. If you need anything during the night, let me know.” Within minutes his breathing had evened into sleep.

Because she couldn't take any pain meds, Ashley had no intention of waking him. With her mind churning on consequences, deceptions, and guilt, it took her much longer to fall asleep. But finally the warmth of Quinton's touch and the even rhythm of his breath lulled her.

 

Something woke Ashley bright and early the next morning. She hadn't heard Quinton leave the bed, but she instinctively knew she was alone. She was still tucked in, and the remnants of sleep made her sluggish, but Quinton's overwhelming presence and the peace she felt when with him were gone.

Then she realized a conversation in the hallway had roused her. Dull pain throbbed throughout her body, centering in her head, her arm. Her heart.

Struggling into an upright position, she listened hard and detected Quinton's voice, as well as others. Had the workers arrived to install new security measures? From the little bit of the conversation she could detect, that seemed the case.

Groaning with each movement, she crawled from the bed, dragging the blankets with her.

The door opened and Quinton peeked in. “Sorry we woke you.”

She felt like hell warmed over, but managed a smile. “What time is it?”

“Only eight o'clock. You want some coffee?”

She groaned for an entirely different reason. “I'd
kill
for coffee.”

His grin did much to revive her. “Everyone will be back out of the house in a few minutes. I'll bring the coffee to you here so you can get started.”

Keeping the blankets in place with one hand wasn't easy. “My hero.”

“I hope so.”

While Quinton saw to the coffee, Ashley ducked into the bathroom. A look in the mirror didn't reassure her. Denny had nailed it—she did look like shit, and a night of restlessness hadn't improved anything.

Sometime during the night the bruising had turned a vivid blue and crimson, and in places, purple. The skin around her eye had puffed up, giving her a squinty, uneven look, and her hair resembled a witch's.