Under the Covers

Chapter Nine

Juliet settled into the overstuffed chair in Quinn’s family room, her gaze on the sparking fire, her hand around the stem of a wineglass. Wild oil paintings covered the walls, and masculine leather furniture decorated the room. “I don’t usually drink more than one glass of wine.”

Quinn set another piece of wood on the fire, the muscles of his back shifting nicely. He stood, grabbed his beer, and dropped into a matching chair. “Why not?”

Her limbs felt heavy. “My mother. She had specific rules about how lady should act.”

“Hmmm.” He tipped back his head and swallowed, and the cords in his neck moved with the effort. Sexy and male. “I know from Sophie that your parents have passed on. Was your mother a society-type lady?”

“Yes. Well, she wanted to be.” Fond memories lifted Juliet’s lips in a smile, and then she grimaced. “My real father was a drunk, and I remember a lot of yelling. My mother divorced him and remarried a man with money, and she started climbing the social ladder. Somewhat.” Considering Juliet’s stepfather was a criminal, her mother could climb only so far. But she gave the journey a great shot. “She died of breast cancer four years ago.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Quinn’s eyes softened in the flickering firelight.

A hard man with soft eyes. Dangerous. Way too dangerous to her heart.

She sipped the cool wine. “How did your father die?”

“A snowmobile accident when I was six and Jake was eight.”

“I’m sorry, Quinn.”

“Me, too.”

“He was full Kooskia, like your mother?”

“Yes.” Quinn leaned forward on his elbows. “Is your stepfather still alive?”

“No. He died of liver failure two years ago.” While she’d never respected his job, he’d been kind to her, and she missed him. “I’m alone now.”

“No, you’re not.” Quinn leaned back and stretched out his legs. “I promise. You’re not alone.”

Thunder bellowed outside. The wind whistled angrily above the sound of pelting rain.

Juliet studied the sheriff. The flickering light wandered over his angled face, highlighting his predatory features. Shadows danced along the angles, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be his. Even if it was only for the night. She wanted to belong with the sheriff.

Very gently, she placed her wineglass on the table. She folded the blanket and laid the thick cotton on the chair. Her gaze on the quiet man, she crossed the room and dropped to her knees. His thighs pressed in on her shoulders.

His dark eyes darkened further. “What are you doing?” Low, rough, his voice caressed her skin until a fire sparked inside her.

“Taking you.” She unbuckled his belt and pulled the heavy leather free of his jeans. The buckle clanked when she dropped it to the floor. “Lose the shirt.”

Keeping her gaze, he yanked off the shirt. Powerful muscles shifted.

She swallowed. “I adore your chest.” Ignoring all decorum, she crawled right up on his lap, her thighs bracketing his. Three round scars dotted his left shoulder, and she leaned over to kiss each one. “What are these?”

“Bullet holes.”

She stilled, her heart catching. “Oh.” She kissed them again. Then her mouth wandered to a long, diagonal scar across his left pec and rib cage. “And this?”

“Knife.” His voice lowered.

“I’m sorry.” Deep down, something ached for him. She sat up. Her fingers tapped a jagged scar wrapped around his bicep. “What in the world?”

“Barbed wire when I was a kid.” He shrugged. “Rode my bike where I shouldn’t have.”

“You’ve had a rough life.” She caressed the raised flesh.

“I’m feeling pretty good right now.” His eyelids dropped to half-mast. “Is it my turn yet?”

Captured by his tone, she nodded.

“Good.” He reached behind her neck and undid her necklaces, placing them on the table. Her earrings were next. “This jewelry is pretty.”

“The pieces are Celtic—Irish trinity knots,” she whispered, her voice going hoarse.

He slid his hands under her wispy shirt, his palms on her flesh, his knuckles raising the material over her head. “I’ve never seen a woman more feminine than you.”

Hard and fast, the sheriff was sexy. Slow and thoughtful, he was downright devastating.

“Feminine, not fragile.” She inhaled his strong scent of male and pine.

He traced her clavicle with calloused fingers. “Fragile, too.” His gaze stayed on his fingers as he flicked open her bra and smoothed the straps down her arms.

She blinked, exposed to him.

“You’re beautiful, Juliet,” he breathed, hands palming her breasts.

“I’ve never felt like this.” He made her feel beautiful.

His dimple flashed. “Every once in a while, you’re completely bare. Saying what you feel without holding back.” His hands firmed, and he lifted his gaze. “That’s how I want you tonight.”

Vulnerability slithered right down her spine. “I, ah—”

He rolled her nipples.

Heat flooded to her sex.

With just enough of a bite, he pinched. “I told you how I want you. Understand?”

The dominant tone flashed through her and offered an intriguing sense of safety. One she wanted so badly.

To free herself for one night and take all Quinn could give? The idea should be terrifying. But it would be worth the broken heart and sleepless nights after she left town. She’d always have this to remember.

“I understand. One night. No holding back.” She ran her hands up the hard cords of his neck. “That goes for you, too. No holding back.”

“I hadn’t planned on it.” Cupping her head, he lowered his mouth to hers. Firm lips, gentle pressure, so much sweetness in the kiss that tears sprang to her eyes.

Even sweet, a sense of control emanated in his touch. She leaned back and gave in to the need to trace his angular face. “Sometimes, when I’ve watched you, I wished so badly I was a better sculptor.”

He smoothed the skirt up her thighs, his fingers skimming her skin. “When I watched you, I wished for this. For you, in the firelight…becoming mine.”

“That’s a better wish.” She cradled his face and brushed his lips. Her heart jumped even while her mind shut down the fantasy. She couldn’t be his. No matter how much she wanted to. Even if she never broke another law, sometimes a person couldn’t negate their past. “I wish more than anything in the world I could be what you want.”

“You’re exactly what I want.” He curved his wandering hands around to cup her rear end. “Someday you’re going to tell me what those shadows mean in your eyes, and I’m going to fix whatever is haunting you.”

“I wish you could.” This whole “holding nothing back” was going to get her into trouble. At least she’d have this image to take with her. A strong man in firelight to remember forever. “But tonight, there are no shadows.”

“No shadows.” He stood suddenly.

She gasped, her legs tightening around his waist, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“I’ve got you.” The fire in his eyes and low tone of voice held more vow than temporary reassurance. “You’re safe.”

“You’re not safe, Sheriff. Not at all.”

His dark eyes glittered. “Do tell.”

Silky strands tempted her fingers when she threaded them through his hair—and tugged. Just hard enough. “I’m feeling dangerous.”

“Juliet,” he drawled while carrying her through the room and up the stairs, “I have handcuffs.”

She breathed out a combination of heat and humor. “Sounds like a threat.”

“Oh no, darlin’.” He set her on the bed. “I don’t threaten. Ever.”

“Really? What was that statement?”

“A promise.” He unclasped his jeans and dropped them to the floor. “I’ll take a little teasing from you, beautiful. But you cross me? I’ll cuff you and make you beg.”

Her breath caught low in her throat. She slanted her lips in a small smile. “You have something I’d beg for?”

His smile was anything but small, anything but sweet. “Let’s find out.” All wolf, he ripped off her skirt. For a quiet moment, he looked his fill.

Naked, exposed on his bed, she remained still. The want in his eyes warmed her—gave her a confidence she rarely felt. So she let him look.

With a low hum of appreciation, he slid his hands over her ankles, up her calves, across her thighs. His mouth followed, pausing at her thigh to nip.

Wait a minute. Panic rushed down her throat. This was something she didn’t do. She wiggled, partially sitting up to stop him.

He flattened his hand across her stomach. Firm and absolute. His head lifted, and he pinned her with a look.

She swallowed. “No, er, Quinn. I don’t ah, do—”

“I’ll get the cuffs.” His breath brushed her clit.

A strangled gasp hissed out with her breath. He was serious. He’d actually cuff her. Her mind spinning, she lay back down.

He rewarded her with a soft kiss on her mound.

This was way too intimate. She’d lay still, kind of ignore him, and he’d move on to something else. Something she could enjoy. “This really isn’t my thing, Qui—”

He licked her. Slow, sure, he licked her. Electric shocks whipped out from his mouth. Static filled her brain.

Those wide shoulders pressed against her inner thighs, forcing her legs open. “You might as well relax, baby. You taste like honeysuckle and spices, and I could do this all night.” He spoke right against her flesh, sending vibrations deep into her body. “In fact, I just might.”

Her eyelids fluttered. With a deep sigh, she relaxed.

Slowly, one finger entered her. She arched against his mouth, biting her lip to keep from moaning.

A sharp nip to her thigh narrowed her focus. “No holding back, Juliet.” He slid another finger inside her and crisscrossed them.

A whimper escaped her.

Alternating between licks, nips, even bites, he had her on edge way too quickly. Never quite providing enough pressure to push her over, he kept her at the precipice. Her body stretched tight like a string. Need trembled down her legs. She curled her toes, almost welcoming the cramping pain, just to have something to ground her.

His fingers pumped, his mouth licked, and his deep baritone hummed against her.

The sheriff was playing and truly enjoying the game.

She wanted to swear at him, but every instinct she had warned her not to challenge him. Not right now. He liked her on the edge, and he liked control. So she let him play until she couldn’t take any more.

Sweat dotted her brow, her mind fuzzed, and her body gyrated against him. “Quinn, please—”

He lifted his head, even while his fingers continued to torture her. “Please, what, Juliet?”

She tried to concentrate. “You…know.”

His dimple flashed. “No. I really don’t. Say the words.”

The low growl that rumbled from her chest shocked the heck out of her. “Quinn.”

“Those aren’t the words.” He swirled his tongue around her aching clit with just enough pressure to make her sob.

“Stop torturing me,” she ground out.

“Want me to stop? Maybe make a late dinner?” He sank his teeth into her other thigh, sure to leave a mark. His mark.

The thought nearly threw her into the orgasm he dangled out of reach. “I may kill you.”

The sharp slap to her clit sheeted the room white. “Now, darlin’…threats aren’t nice. Do better.”

She very well may hate this side of him. “Why are you doing this?”

“You like it.”

The fact that her body was on fire, that she was wetter than she’d ever been and was ready to beg? There was something definitely wrong with her, because she apparently did like it. Like him. All of him. “Please let me come.”

“With pleasure.” Wriggling his finger against a spot inside her that had her legs straightening, he scraped his tongue over her clit with firm pressure.

She exploded like she’d swallowed dynamite. Flashes of nearly painful pleasure shot through her veins, rippling through her. She arched into his mouth, both hands clamping on his head, her body undulating in desperate waves.

Somebody screamed, and yes, it was probably her. She rode out the pulses and murmured his name as she came down.

Gasping, she released him and pressed one hand on her chest. Her heart beat rapidly against her palm. “Wow.”

“That was nice.” He shifted against the bed, his shoulders spreading her legs wider. “Let’s try that again.”

“No.” Her head jerked against the pillow. “No more.” She sat up to glare at him. Her body was only partially sated…she needed him inside her and now. “That was great. Wonderful. Now get up here.”

His eyelids lifted until his heated gaze met hers.

She stopped moving. Frozen, like prey catching sight of a hunter. “Um.”

“Beg me.” He said the words calmly.

“No way.”

“Exactly.” He plunged two fingers inside her.

Her body short-circuited, and she flopped back down. He was going to kill her. Finish her off for all time. But, as his mouth got to work again, she had to admit it wasn’t a bad way to go.

Quinn took his time and was thorough. Very thorough. It might have been minutes, perhaps hours. At some point, she was shifting against him, seeking release. Needing to quench the desperate fire he so easily stoked in her. Finally, he moved up her body, taking time to appreciate both breasts.

Then his mouth took hers. Deep, intent, he kissed her like they had forever.

She clasped her ankles across his back, pulling in. His engorged cock lay heavy against the apex of her legs, and she pressed against him, gasping at the exquisite pressure.

He slid inside her, just a bit, and then stopped.

She yanked on his neck, pulling him closer. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop, what?” Sweat sprang out on his forehead. His biceps vibrated as he held still.

“Quinn.”

His head dropped, and he sucked her earlobe into his heated mouth. “Tell me what you want.”

“You. God, I want you.” She slid against him.

He growled and gripped her hip, holding her in place. “What do you want me to do?”

He was terrible. Truly terrible. “Anything you want. For God’s sake, just do it.” She pulled his hair.

His smile flashed dangerous teeth. Pulling her hip up, he shoved inside her with one strong thrust. Her sex squeezed him. Even though she was primed and ready, the shock of his size had her gasping for breath.

Sliding his arms around her thighs, he widened her and began to pound. So strong, so fast, so powerful He plunged inside her until all she could do was grab on to his defined biceps and feel.

A ball of lava uncoiled inside her.

With a cry of his name, she broke.