Page 136 of Beautiful Liar

“That’s all I have,” I say.

He slowly sits back. “I’ll take it.”

I tremble in my seat, wondering what I’ve let myself in for. Then I remember Q. “I may not be available all the time.”

“Neither will I.”

I stare at him, teeming with questions. Question I can’t ask because I don’t want to answer any of his. Our food arrives. We eat mostly in silence, both focusing our turbulent emotions on food. Once the plates are cleared away, I glance at him. His eyes are still churning with demonic hell. “Why do you want me, Quinn?” I blurt, repeating the question boring a hole inside me.

None of this makes sense. Not really. Not when you take the time to think it through rationally.

The fingers resting on the table straighten out till his palm is flat. Then his finger starts to bounce. “Maybe I want a little…relief.”

Something cracks inside me. Because I get that. I reach out, lay my hand on top of his. His finger stills. “Okay. I’ll be your relief. It’s okay, Quinn.”

“You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.”

I sigh. “Make up your mind. You want me to stay or you don’t.”

He exhales sharply. For a moment he looks…lost. “I do.” He glances down at our hands. Then back up. “Are you done eating? Do you want dessert?”

“Yes. No.”

He pulls his hand from beneath mine, takes out his wallet and throws a few hundred-dollar bills on the table. “Let’s get out of here.”

Outside, I turn to him. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you back.”

Disappointment swells high. I want to spend more time with him. I want to start being his relief. Like right now.

But Q is waiting. And little slut that I am, I need what he gives me too. So I nod, and get in Quinn’s car.

It’s a quarter to ten when we get back to the loft. Quinn walks me to the door, his hand linked tightly with mine. I key in the outer code and he walks inside with me. We walk down the hallway in silence, and he waits till I open my front door. I turn to him.

Suddenly, his fingers are spearing into my hair. He’s thrusting me against the wall. I have a nanosecond to gasp before his firm, delicious mouth is on mine. He roughly parts my lips with his tongue, then he’s invading me. OhGod. Quinn Blackwood tastes amazing. I moan deep as my fantasy becomes a reality. He kisses my mouth the way his eyes devour me: with single-minded, near demonic intent. He brazenly licks the inside of my mouth, then bites my lower lip hard before soothing it with his tongue. My clutch falls to the floor along with my jacket. Urgent hands scramble for purchase on his hard, hot body. They land somewhere on his chest, and I cling on for dear life. When my gasps turn to desperate pleas for air, he pulls back, stares down at me and slowly pushes his thumb into my mouth. I don’t know whether to bite or suck. So I do both.

His breath hisses out. After a minute, he yanks his digit out. Then he’s back to kissing me. My fingers find his hair. I pull and scrape as my panties grow stupidly, shamelessly wet. His hands move roughly over my body, searching, imprinting, but his mouth never leaves mine. It’s as if he’s starved for it and doesn’t intend to let up until he’s engorged.

My need to breathe becomes increasingly frantic, and I gulp in desperate lungfuls when he lets up. He rests his forehead against mine, rocks his hips into mine. The thick outline of his cock makes me struggle not to salivate like a hormonal teenager. But I can’t stop my hips from rocking forward too, from cradling him for a mad minute against my pelvis.

He groans. “God, I want to fuck you till you break. I may not be the right person to put you back together, but I want to do it anyway.”

I lift my gaze and am immediately annihilated by piercing silver blue pools of hell.

“I can’t,” I breathe into his mouth.

He kisses the words away, but doesn’t protest.

I can’t have sex with him while I’m fucking Q. Even if I could get away with it, it feels wrong. But the temptation is there. God, how I’m tempted. Because if he fucks half as good as he kisses, I’m in for a wild ride. I lick my lips and attempt to step back. His grip tightens, and he growls under his breath.

“Not yet.”

“Quinn…”

“Don’t go yet, Elyse. One more minute.”

His ragged plea makes me melt back against the wall. “Okay.”

This time his kisses are gentler. Like he’s feeding his depleted soul instead of the demons riding him. We stay like that for a long time, his mouth sipping and nipping at mine.

Eventually he tears himself away with a harsh curse. He stares at me with a thousand horrifying emotions seething in his eyes.

Then he walks away without a backward glance.

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