“In my defense,” she said, lifting her chin, “I was left unsupervised.”
He ran a finger along her temple, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, giving her a delicious all-over body shiver. “Want to talk about it?” he asked, voice silky. Sexy.
She closed her eyes and leaned into him, pressing her face into his throat, inhaling the sexy, comforting scent of him. “I don’t know.”
And here was the difference between him and . . . well, everyone else she’d ever known. He didn’t push. He didn’t poke or prod. He didn’t cajole, demand, question.
He just let her be.
“I’m worried,” she finally admitted.
“About?”
“Everything!” She sighed. “There’s a boy . . .”
“I’m hoping the rest of that sentence is ‘and his name is Mick.’”
She laughed. “I’m talking about Tilly. I’m stressing over how much a fifteen-year-old old knows about sex. I went online and tried to research—” She stopped talking when she felt his chest and arms shake.
He was laughing at her.
“How is this funny?” she asked. “I mean, do I have The Talk with her about boys being one big walking, talking blob of testosterone or not?”
“You’re asking me? I’m one of those blobs of testosterone.”
No kidding.
“You’re doing great with her,” he said. “Just have a frank talk, let her know you’re there for her, and tell her to try to hold off at least another year before she goes for it. Guys don’t know what they’re doing when they’re that age.”
She gave him a speculative look. “Do you know now?”
“Come here and I’ll show you.”
She hesitated, not because she didn’t want to jump him, but because she did want that. Bad.
He must have seen that all over her face because he gave her a slow, wicked smile and a finger crook.
When she just returned his smile, he reached out and snagged her by the hips, hauling her into him.
No longer hesitating, because after all, she’d just gotten exactly what she wanted, she snuggled in.
He fisted a hand in her hair and gently tugged her head back, studying her face.
She did her best to look one, sober, and two, like the best thing he’d never had but wanted.
Again he gave her that slow smile, the one that melted her bones away.
“You want me,” he said.
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? Quinn, the last time we were together, you climbed me like a tree.”
“I did not.” She totally had. “Maybe I just don’t remember because it was over so fast . . .”
He laughed and then kissed her until she was breathless and clutching at him. “You’re going to take that back when I’m done with you,” he promised and she shivered with anticipation.
“Thought you were hungry,” she said, already breathless as she ran her hands down the hard muscles of his back, touching as much of him as she could.
His hands were busy too, sliding up and down her back, making her heart thump.
“I am hungry,” he said, grazing his teeth over her skin, taking a sexy bite of her throat, her shoulder, nudging her clothes aside, baring her to his gaze. “Just not for food.”
His mouth came down on hers and she quivered as he curled an arm around her, nudged her thighs farther apart to fit between them. They moved wider of their own accord as he put on a condom and started to slide into her.
She was already gasping his name as he slid in deep. “Oh my God, Mick.”
“I hope that’s ‘Oh my God don’t stop.’” His low, husky voice washed over her as he drove himself deeper into her.
“Definitely don’t stop,” she managed, crossing her ankles behind him to keep him right where he was.
Don’t stop.
Ever . . .
Which was a terrifying thought for someone whose world had spun out of control and into orbit with no landing in sight.
“Quinn.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him, into his fathomless dark eyes, and suddenly she felt anchored, and she clutched at him, shocked by how much she needed this, needed him.
“Stay with me,” he said, and she knew he meant right now, in the moment. He couldn’t possibly mean more, but she lifted up to kiss him, accepting.
Whatever it was he was giving her, a piece of him, all of him . . .
With a growl, he rolled his hips into hers with purpose, and they came together, even as they fell apart.
AN HOUR LATER, Mick met Quinn’s gaze.
She gave him a dopey smile. “Okay, I take it back. You’re not fast. You’re . . .”
He raised a brow.
“Disturbingly perfect.”
Feeling suitably smug, he sat up on the couch and found a cat staring at him. An old, ratty-looking cat with only one good eye. “Uh, Quinn? There’s a cat staring at me.”
“That’s Tink. Short for Tinkerbell. She’s visiting.”
Okay. Mick cracked his aching neck. “Tell me you’re not sleeping on this couch.”
“I’m working on turning the craft room into a bedroom.” She sat up with a groan. Naked. He loved the view.
“I’ve cleared some space in it for the spare bed I found in the garage,” she said.
Mick went out to the garage to check on the bed and found a family of field mice enjoying the hell out of the box spring. “You’re not using that bed,” he told Quinn, coming back in from the garage.
“Why?”
“Do you really want to know?”
She searched his gaze and then shook her head. “Nope.”
“Give me half an hour, I’ll be back with what you need.” He gestured to the bottle of moonshine. “Maybe save the rest for another day.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve got additional plans for you,” he said, amused to see her bite her lower lip in anticipation even as she blushed.
He was driving his dad’s truck today and he was glad for that as he headed out to the one furniture store in the area that he knew of. He hadn’t been by for years and hoped it was still there.
He got lucky. And it turned out the guy who now owned the place, Tyler Coronado, had dated Mick’s sister way back when. Mick picked out a full-size mattress with a pretty wood frame for a screaming deal. “Good prices,” he said.
Tyler sighed. “Going-out-of-business prices. I’m selling the property. I’ve slashed everything so I don’t have to find storage.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Mick said.
“Wildstone’s circling the drain, man. Not many of the small business owners think they can hold out for much longer.”
“What’s being done?” Mick asked.
“Nothing,” Tyler said with disgust. “Seems certain officials keep getting richer, while the rest of us get poorer. Not that any of us can afford the legal battle.”
When Mick left, he sat in the parking lot and sent off an e-mail to Colin, asking him to look into which specific business properties in town were in the most immediate danger of going under. He couldn’t easily step in, as he was stretched thin now, but neither did he want to stand by and watch someone sink.
Half an hour later he and Coop were back at the house standing at the front door and staring down at Quinn’s newest guard cat.