Текст книги "About Last Night..."
Автор книги: Belle Aurora
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Chapter Thirty-One
Quinn
I did a good job, I thought. I got to almost seven p.m. without calling her.
Now that I knew her, my days seemed to go slower and my body, now knowing the feel of hers against mine, craved her like no other. I missed the sound of her voice. I missed her laugh. Shit, I just missed her when she wasn’t around.
My mother was not a good woman, but if there was one piece of advice she gave me that stuck, it was: One day, you’ll meet someone who will consume your very soul. When you meet that person, you’ll know. And if that person ever tries to leave you, fight for them, because once they’re gone, life will become a chore.
It made me think that maybe she’d lost her person. Maybe he was my dad. Maybe that was why she treated me the way she did. She always told me I looked just like him. I hadn’t spoken to my mother in years. I had no idea where she was, whom she was with, or even if she was alive. I missed her some days. Others, I was glad she was gone.
Every time I ate French toast, I was reminded of her. We never had a lot of money, and Mom worked in diners as wait staff. She knew I loved French toast, and on the days she worked late while I was at home with only the TV as a babysitter, she would wake me up in the middle of the night just to see the smile I’d get at the surprise she brought me.
Her stomach would rumble as she watched me eat, but no matter how many times I told her to eat with me, she’d never take any. She told me it wasn’t her treat to share.
Something happened when I turned fourteen. My features started to mature. My face turned sharp and lost its innocence, and then I shot up a foot at a time, becoming taller and sturdier.
My mother’s love for me diminished. She started to look at me differently. Her hugs reduced, and then they were gone, leaving me craving affection and getting it from wherever I could. Namely in the arms of women older than me, who used me as much as I did them.
The love I had for my mom turned viciously into hate. How dare she treat her son like she had? She was a poor excuse for a woman, drinking heavily then putting her hands on the one person who loved her more than anything in the world.
I warned her. Once she had sobered, I told her that if she hit me one more time, I would hit her back. My warning went unheard.
The following night, Mom got her drink on. She was a lousy drunk, fuelled by bitterness and hatred. I moved to take the bottle from her. Her hand came across my cheek full-force. My anger spiraled out of control. I gripped her wrist and pushed as hard as I could. I watched in stunned disbelief as my mother stumbled backwards, falling to the ground with a thud. Breathing heavily out of my nose, I brought my arm back and threw the bottle of liquor at the wall beside me. The glass shattered and I ignored the way my arm stung, my knuckles seeping red.
I left that night. I left and never went back. I was fifteen years old. With only a backpack full of clothes, I hit the streets. I was an angry teenager on the loose, fighting my way through to my sixteenth birthday. I’d spent many nights on park benches, eating out of trashcans, and stealing clothes from people’s backyards.
One fateful night after a brawl, I was arrested. Who knew that would actually turn out to be a good thing?
The officer who arrested me spent hours trying to get something out of me—my name, how old I was, where I was from. I didn’t tell him anything, not at first, but then he told me about himself, about his sons, about his work, about how he was a foster parent to another young boy. He followed this up by feeding me.
At this point, I was about ready to be the man’s pet if he asked me. But he didn’t. Instead, he helped me find a place at a home for young men like myself. They nicknamed it Runaway Isle. It was ran by a woman in her thirties named Carla. I liked her the moment I met her. Her eyes smiled, even when she didn’t.
Carla put me to work with a tutor, and by the time I was eighteen, I’d gotten a job at a local hardware store and had completed my studies, resulting in my high school diploma. One night, I’d been held back at work and got back to Runaway Isle just after nine p.m. When I walked inside, I stopped in the kitchen before going to bed, because I’d worked through dinnertime. I was hungry.
One of the boys, Jack, who was seventeen, had Carla backed up against the fridge. Her eyes wide and frantic, I watched in shock as he held a knife to her throat while he palmed her body in places that Jack should not have been touching.
Obviously worried for my safety, Carla mouthed, ‘Get out,’ as tears trailed her cheeks.
Fuck that. This woman had given me a new lease on life. I was not about to abandon her. I silently unhooked a hanging frying pan and crept closer. When I was within arm’s length, I lifted the pan over my head and brought it down over Jack’s head…hard.
Jack made a choking noise then fell to the floor, his cock hanging out of the fly of his jeans. Carla let out a whimper and pushed herself away from the wall. I caught her before she fell and brought her into the living area to sit on a sofa. I called the police and they arrived within minutes.
An ambulance collected Jack and he was taken to the hospital with a police escort. Carla explained how Jack had cornered her and that he’d told her he’d been waiting for months for a moment alone with her. He’d planned to assault her. The sick fuck.
The police commended me on my actions, and Carla squeezed my hand in thanks. I was just glad it had ended before Carla had truly gotten hurt.
But Carla had been hurt. She’d been hurt in a way that couldn’t be fixed, and within months, she decided to close down Runaway Isle. It was heartbreaking. Many of the guys had become friends, but we understood why she felt she couldn’t do it anymore.
The boys were transferred all around, while the older ones were given the option to work and use our police contacts as temporary guardians. I went with the latter. I quit my job in hardware and went into construction, finding a shit-hole apartment that was about big enough to store a pair of shoes and nothing more, and went about my life.
I had no furniture, no bed, and barely enough food to eat, but I got by. What the experience did for me was make me appreciate what I had in the now. What screwed with me was just how appreciative I was of a certain friendship I’d made, and just how scared I was to lose it.
I dialed her number and waited.
“Hey.”
I smiled at the sound of her voice. “Hey. How was your day?”
“Ugh,” she groaned. My smile stretched wider. I loved how animated Mia could be. “You wouldn’t believe what happened. So, there I was, just minding my own business, when Ella tells me our event has been double-booked. There I am—freaking the eff out, mind you—and all I’m thinking is how badly I’m going to get my ass handed to me if I don’t fix this, right?”
I took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly, letting her words flow over me, soothing me. “Right.”
Mia snorted. “No shit.” I chuckled silently at her enthusiasm. “So I spent the rest of the damn day finding a replacement, and guess what?”
“What?” I said as I folded an arm behind my neck, getting comfortable.
“I found something even better!” She blew out a breath. “It was like the gods of event planning were watching over me or something. Talk about relief. I was about one minute away from pooping myself.”
I pursed my lips in thought. “That could’ve gone badly.”
She chuckled then, and I wished I could see the way her face lit up when she did. There was something about Mia and her laughs. But nothing could beat the way Mia smiled when she was really happy about something. It was stunning. Simply beautiful.
There was nothing more I wanted to do than to lie with her, to tangle my legs with hers and hold her close, listening to her tell me about her day. The sad truth of it was I didn’t even feel the need to fuck her. I just wanted to be close to her, to place my head on her chest and listen to her fucking heartbeat.
Oh, man. I was becoming a total pussy.
But somehow, my need for Mia was more important. I knew this, because without thinking, I asked, “Can I come over?”
Without hesitation, she responded, “Of course.” She prattled off her address, and within minutes, I was in my car on the way over.
Just because I wanted to.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mia
Rushing out of the shower, I dried off, throwing my towel behind me, and slipped on my pajamas. Not my ratty tee, but the mauve silky set I bought on my shopping expedition with Edita. The spaghetti-strapped tank felt amazing against my bare skin, and the shorts barely covered my butt cheeks, but this was Quinn I was trying to impress.
I stood then stopped as my stomach flipped. I placed a calming hand on it. Oh, God. Quinn was coming over. As in, coming over to my apartment. To my place of residence. Where I showered and ate, and where I did mediocre things like sleep!
Gah! Why did I feel like this was something special? Shaking my head at the fluttering in my belly, I sighed lightly and scolded myself mentally for making this more than it was. Maybe Quinn did this with other female friends. Maybe this was nothing to him at all except a way to pass time. Maybe he was bored and I was simply available.
It made me think of something my brother had told me when I was a teenager. ‘Don’t make a man a priority if he only makes you an option.’ Was that what I was doing? Was I going out of my way to appease Quinn? Was I only his option? Because, quite frankly, that would suck balls.
My gut sank. I thought about changing into something a little more conservative, when a light knock on my front door sounded. My eyes went to the door. I looked down at myself and slapped a hand on my forehead. What the hell was I thinking?
Another knock sounded. It was too late. I’d answer the door as I was, regardless of how pathetic I was. I could pull off sexy if I really put my mind to it. I made my way to the door, slipping on my fluffy pink slippers on the way. I unlocked the door and opened it, ignoring the churning in my gut.
Quinn leaned on the doorframe, his tall body relaxed, his face somber. Even though he wore black sweatpants and a gun-metal grey tee, the strength of his legs were clear to see and his arms looked delicious in that plain shirt. When he caught sight of what I was wearing, he straightened and blinked down at me. “Wow.”
My cheeks burst into flame. “Um…”
He reached out and his fingers gently plucked at a thin strap of my silken tank. “This is nice.”
I swallowed hard before choking out, “Come in.” I followed this by taking his large hand in mine and pulling him in. It was then that I noticed the small white bag in his other hand. He handed it to me without a word. I took it with narrowed eyes.
Truthfully, I loved surprises, but if this was another vibrator, I’d hit him over the head with it. In complete Quinn fashion, he just grinned while I dug inside. Whatever it was felt soft. I pulled the item out and gasped.
Dropping the bag, I gaped at the clearly expensive sweater. It was the color of caramel, was softer than a cloud in heaven, and looked fancy. I checked the tag and squeaked.
Armani.
Oh no. It wasn’t just Armani.
It was mothertruckin’ cashmere.
Didn’t he know what this meant?
I could never wear this. This would be the one item of clothing that I brought out to look at, to admire, but I could never risk wearing this goddamn, stupid sweater, because of my being a klutz. I’d give it a week. It would have a hole in it. I threw it at him and jumped back, watching in horror as the sleeve of the sweater draped itself over his head.
He pulled it off and looked at me like I had lost my mind as he muttered slowly, “O-kay then.”
But I shook my head. “I can’t take that. It’s beautiful.” I clutched a hand to my chest and squeezed at my heart. “Like, beautiful. But I can’t accept that, Quinn.” Then I got angry. “Why would you get me something like that anyways? You’re not allowed to buy me things. I’m not a kept woman. This isn’t a historical romance.” I placed my hands on my hips and glared at him, poking a finger into his chest. “You are not a duke.” I straightened my shoulders and crossed my arms over my chest. “I will not be a duke’s mistress.”
I replayed everything I had just said in slow motion. Ridiculous things said ridiculously in slow motion only made said ridiculous things more ridiculous. My eyes darted everywhere but at him. My chest heaved, and for a moment there, I thought I would faint from mortification.
But then he sauntered over to me, sweater in hand. I bit the inside of my cheek and watched him approach me slowly, as if he were approaching a spooked animal. “Mia.”
I wrung my fingers together and looked at a spot on the wall behind him.
“Mia. Look at me, baby.”
Damn him and his highly hypnotic voice. I looked at him.
His eyes crinkled in the corners and his lip twitched. His strong hands gripped my hips and he pulled me into him. I had no choice but to go to him, or risk falling over. He squeezed my hip with one hand, massaging slowly, while catching my chin between his thumb and finger, lifting my face to meet his eyes. “Baby.”
He’d draped the sweater over his shoulder. I stared at it and whispered, “I don’t like you buying me things.”
His smile stretched. “I got that.” Then he sobered. “But maybe if I explain why I bought it, you’ll get over it, accept it, and thank me.”
I closed my eyes, trying hard as I could to ignore how domestic this scene felt. I also tried to ignore how right this felt. His lips hit the apple of my cheek and he spoke softly, “I was out this afternoon, went down the strip for a new suit. While I was there, I spotted this soft thing, so I went over and felt it, and I thought to myself, ‘I wonder how this would look on Mia.’”
This wasn’t fair. And I felt like crying. With every additional moment, I fell deeper and harder for Matt Quinn. How dare he make me love him? It was almost cruel.
His breath warmed my skin. “The lady at the store asked if there was a special lady in my life that might like it, and I thought, ‘Well, Mia is about the most special lady I know.’”
That was it. I was fucking doomed. Tears prickled behind my closed lids and my throat strained with emotion.
The hand at my hip slid around my back, pinning me to him. “I told her to wrap it up, because all of a sudden, I couldn’t leave the damn sweater there.” His fingers moved soothingly up and down my back. “Not when it was made for you.”
Gah! He was good. My voice hoarse, I spoke softly, just loud enough for him to hear. “Thank you, Quinn. I love it.”
He kissed me then; his lips were cool and he tasted of mint. It was short and sweet. “You’re welcome.”
Blinking away tears, I silently led him to my bedroom, where the TV was on. He slipped off his shoes, laid the gorgeous sweater across the chair at my vanity, and then without permission, he lifted the quilt and let himself under the covers. As he did this, he groaned quietly, and it was only then I saw the strain on his face.
I climbed in next to him and tucked myself into his side. He ran his fingers down my arm, but stopped when I blurted out, “I want to talk about your job.”
He stilled a moment before resuming the comforting motion. “What do you want to know?” He sounded tired, but I was too curious to care at that moment.
With my cheek on his chest, my hand resting on his taut stomach, I took in all the warmth he had to give, wrapping a leg around his, wanting to turn us into a Quinn-Mia-pretzel. “How do you do it?”
He stayed quiet a moment before responding carefully. “From a young age, sex was my drug of choice. I guess it sort of seemed natural when it transitioned into a job. It felt like I’d won the lottery, actually.”
He snuffled a laugh through his nose, and I smiled, asking quietly, “Do you think you’ll ever quit?” He didn’t answer, so I tried again. “Don’t you ever want more?”
His arms tightened around me as he answered, almost as if he was scared of my reaction to his reply. “I’m not looking for more, Mia.”
And there it was. My reaction was to hide my thoughts in complete silence. My mind mocked me. Did you think he’d confess his undying love for you and quit his job? He fucks women for a living. Of course he wouldn’t settle for one woman, especially if that one woman is you.
Which, of course, meant that I needed to rub salt into the open, gaping wound in my chest. “How many women do you sleep with a week?”
He sighed. “Depends.” He was trying to brush me off.
I should’ve heeded his discreet warning. I asked quietly, “How many?”
Regardless of what he said, he did not sound proud when he admitted, “Minimum three a week. Hour long sessions. Maximum of six.”
I swallowed hard, staring into the bright, moving images on the TV. “And they all come to you for sex?” He grunted. The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, “But don’t you feel dirty?”
Quinn went rigid under me. “About as dirty as the socially awkward girl with self-esteem issues must’ve felt hiring a hooker to deflower her.”
Oh, damn. Thems were fighting words. And I totally deserved them. But those words cemented a decision I knew I needed to make. I snuggled into Quinn, feeling his body relax against mine. “Sorry.”
He placed a kiss at my hairline. “Me too.”
We watched TV for a little while longer before Quinn’s breathing steadied as he slept. I silently reveled in the feeling of being the woman he came to when he needed a brief break from his hectic life, the woman he thought about when he went clothes shopping. He called me his special lady. And yet, somehow, that wasn’t enough for me. The sad truth was it never would be. Not unless he gave me all of him.
Decision made, I buried my nose into the crook of Quinn’s neck and breathed him in, falling asleep as close to him as I could possibly get. I never wanted to forget the feel of him, the smell of him. It was bittersweet, this time together.
I loved him. God, how I loved him. But I would do what I needed to do.
Come Monday, I was going to look for a boyfriend.
The distant beeping in my ear stopped when an arm reached over my body, and then came back around me. I snuggled deeper into the body, smiling absently at the way his arms tightened around me.
This was the way life should be.
This was not the way life should be.
My body jerked awake. The sun was already shining and the damn birds were chirping happily. I grabbed my phone and, blinking sleepily, checked the display. But nothing happened.
Oh, God. My phone was off. I never turned my phone off. If my phone was off, then my alarm was off too. “Shit,” I whispered, jumping out of bed and running into the kitchen to check the time on the oven. It read 9:15 a.m. My eyes widened in shock as I shouted, “Fuck!”
From the bedroom, Quinn groaned. “Quiet, Mia.”
My eyes narrowed in a dangerous glare. I rushed back into my bedroom and asked in false calm, “My phone was off. I never turn my phone off, Quinn. Why was my phone off?”
He grunted, pulling a pillow over his head. I heard a mumbled, “I don’t know. Be quiet, baby. I’m tired.”
My eye twitched and my jaw set. “I vaguely remember beeping, Quinn. I didn’t get rid of the beeping, so by process of elimination, you got rid of the beeping. FYI, that beeping was the goddamn alarm!” I finished on a shriek.
I pulled open the curtains, ran past the bed, and pulled the covers off Quinn then ran into the bathroom and started the shower. I threw my clothes off, tied my hair up, and stepped inside. About a minute later, I stepped out and rushed around my room, wearing only a pair of panties, throwing open my closet and reaching for a bra. After I secured my ladies, I threw on a pair of black pants and a cream-colored camisole.
I turned to the bed and screeched, “Get up, Matt!”
His body jerked and he blinked sleepily as he responded with an all too sexy sleep-rough voice, “Take the day off. We can stay in bed, watch movies.” He peeked over at me and grinned. “I’ll peel your clothes off with my teeth.” Then he snapped his teeth together sexily, the sound making my skin crawl with want.
But being that I was already annoyed, I responded in anger. “Something you learned on the job?”
As soon as it was out, my heart sank. His eyes narrowed at me in confusion. “It’s just work, Mia. So what if you’re late? They’ll get over it.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “My boss is not a nice person. You know this. I’ve told you this. It’s not like I’m partner and can’t get fired. I’m in my first year. I’m practically disposable. And I like where I work.” I didn’t like the way I was talking to him, but when I was irritated, you did not want to mess with me. I softened my tone and pleaded, “Can you please drive me to work?”
He must’ve known I was serious, because he slid out of my bed wearing nothing but his boxers, adjusted his morning wood, dressed quickly, and then walked over to me. His hands came up and he cupped my cheeks gently, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry I turned off your phone. I don’t even remember doing it. Won’t happen again.”
I clutched at his tee and moved to rest my forehead on his chest. I murmured into him, “I just don’t want to lose my job is all. Sorry I’m being a raging bitch.”
He squeezed me and I felt his body shake with laughter. “C’mon, princess.” He released me then handed me the sweater he’d bought me. “Put that on. Let’s go.”
I slipped the sweater over my head and it felt even better on. It was soft and light, but warm. I loved it.
As soon as we got into the car, I stole the mirror to apply light makeup, then writing off my hair, pulled it into a high ponytail. Quinn turned to watch me at every light, smiling fondly. When he looked at me like that, I could almost believe he wanted me as much as I wanted him, that he wanted me in a long-term setting. But he’d told me himself, he didn’t want more.
I lightly applied gloss to my lips just as the car slowed to a stop. Looking Quinn in the eye, I grinned. “Well, that was a fun morning.”
He smirked. “I honestly don’t think we could top it.”
Thankful for his light demeanor, I leaned over the seat and pressed a soft, closed-lipped kiss on his mouth. When I pulled back, his lips held my mark, made with gloss. My eyes smiled as I wiped it away with my thumb. “Thanks for the ride.”
He inclined his head on a single nod and I stepped out. Just as I moved to close the car door behind me, he spoke. “Mia?” I turned to look at him and he uttered a sincere, “You look beautiful.” He eyed the amazing sweater. “It really was made for you.”
Before I could respond, he pulled the door closed and drove away. I stood there in surprise, watching him leave.
Matt Quinn knew what to say to a woman to make her day.
I would miss that most of all.
Tiptoeing into the office seemed like the best way to avoid a good old ass kicking by the dragon lady.
Ella caught my eye as I passed and whispered, “Where have you been? Are you okay?” Her eyes drifted to my sweater and she whisper-hissed, “Oh, my God, that sweater is incredible, Mia.”
I whispered back excitedly, “I know, right? Oh, and I’ve been here the entire time.” Then I winked. Ella lifted her brows and smirked. We both knew it. I wouldn’t get away with being late.
The very moment I sat at my desk, I started to log in, when I heard her. “Mia, where have you been?”
I shut my eyes tight and sighed. Standing, I tried to explain, “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Dietrich. My phone was switched off and I never switch my phone off, so the alarm didn’t go off, and I had to get a ride here.” I laughed humorlessly. “It wasn’t the best morning I’ve ever had. I got here as fast as I could.” I added mentally, Please don’t fire me.
Addison looked over me, her eyes searching my face. “You look a little flushed. Maybe you should sit down a minute.”
My head snapped up.
Huh?
“I-uh…” I sat.
She perched herself on the edge of my desk. “Is everything all right?”
I blinked in confusion. “Um, yeah. Apart from my being late, that is.”
She waved a hand at me. “We’ve all been there, right?” Then she smiled, and I almost swooned at the sight. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”
Addison stood. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” She walked away a short while before turning back and adding on another smile, “Oh, and Mia, that sweater is to die for.”
She turned and walked into her office, closing the door behind her. The office was silent as I muttered a weak, “Thank you.”
Slowly, I turned to Ella, who was standing, mouth agape, matching my own. I shrugged at her as if to ask, What the hell was that? Her brows rose and she gently shook her head as if to reply, No freaking idea, dude.
I turned back to my computer and got the hell to work before Addison decided to change her mind and fire me.
