Quinn

Seriously, how long does it take to sign discharge papers?” I grumble as I slip my jeans on under the ugly, baby blue hospital gown that I’ve been wearing for the past three days.

My mom, who used to be a nurse here, sighs and hands me the purple NYU t-shirt she brought me. “If it was up to me, they’d keep you for a few more days.”

I’m beginning to wonder if she isn’t somehow responsible for my extended stay. I know she still has some pull around here. Unlike my brothers, who were always allowed to do whatever they wanted, I’d have spent my childhood in bubble wrap if it were up to her.

“It’s just a minor concussion. I’m fine.”

“It could have been a lot worse.” She purses her lips as I pull the t-shirt over my head.

I know she’s right. It’s all still a blur to me, but Damon said if Zee hadn’t acted as quickly as he had, pulling me under the water, the impact would have been a lot worse. That alone should give Zee a few extra brownie points in my brothers’ eyes. But Abbott continues to growl at him like a damn bulldog every time he’s been here.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t see Zee yesterday or today. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. It’s better than worrying that he’s taken off again. Leaving once more without even a goodbye.

But he’d kissed me.

A tiny smile tugs at my lips despite the chaos and confusion that scrambles my thoughts and emotions.

And he gave me a small glimpse into his soul. Opened up in a way he never has before. That must mean something, right? Or maybe I’m just grasping at straws, wanting to believe something that isn’t there.

All I want is to get out of this damn hospital and back to my apartment. Back to Zee. And figure out what that kiss meant. If anything at all.

There’s a knock on the door, and Jasper, my oldest brother, peeks his head in and grins at me. “Glad to see that head of yours is still screwed on properly.”

“Debatable,” Abbott says, coming in behind him.

“What are you doing here?” I hug Jasper. “God, it’s been months since you’ve been home. I thought you were in Australia.”

He’s a pilot, and even though he has a house in Port Clover, he’s rarely home.

“Mom didn’t tell you?” He frowns at her.

My mom worries her bottom lip between her teeth. I watch as she scrummages through her large Gucci handbag, the one I bought her last Christmas, until she pulls out a hairbrush, then hands it to me. “I wasn’t sure if it was still a good idea, now.”

Jasper gives an exasperated breath. “I’m flying to Paris tonight, and I have two seats reserved for Mom and Dad. Everything is planned. And paid for.” He places large hands on her shoulder and gives her a pointed look. “I have your luggage in my car, and Dad’s meeting us at the airport in less than an hour.”

“Paris, really? That’s so exciting,” I say.

My mom frowns “I don’t want to leave you—”

“I’m fine. You have to go.” My parents never go anywhere. Even when my cousin Makena got married, it was like pulling teeth to get them on a plane to Ireland.

After a few minutes of trying to convince her that I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman fully capable of taking care of herself, she finally concedes with a heavy sigh.

“I heard that Zee was back in town,” Jasper says, changing the subject.

“And shacking up with Quinn,” Abbott mutters.

Both my mom and Jasper raise their brows at me with matching expressions.

I glare at Abbott. “He’s just staying in his old room until he leaves.”

Jasper and my mom exchange a look.

Does everyone know about my insane crush on the man?

Another knock on the door has our heads turning.

My nurse, a pretty little thing with auburn highlights and an hourglass figure, comes in, and I see her pause when her gaze shifts between Abbott and Jasper. Cheeks pink, her eyes dart around nervously. I’m pretty sure she forgot why she came in the room in the first place.

Abbott gives her one of his dimpled grins, and her blush intensifies, but it’s Jasper who keeps her attention. Dark hair brushed back, skin bronzed from whatever exotic location he’d been to recently and wearing a crisp suit, he has a natural command about him that draws people to him. But it’s his mismatched eyes that keep people staring. One blue, the other half brown.

“I...uh...” The nurse clears her throat, then turns back to me. “You’re...uh...free to go.”

“Great. Then let’s get out of here, please.”

“You seem a little eager to get home,” Jasper whispers in my ear when we’re waiting for the elevator, then chuckles. “Any reason why?”

I shake my head at him, then see Abbott glance over and glare at me. He’s really starting to piss me off with his irritable mood, so I glare back. I am so not looking forward to the half an hour drive back to Port Clover with him.

“What’s your problem?” I finally ask, when I realize he’s ignoring me.

“Nothing,” he mutters, keeping his gaze fixed on the road. “I’m keeping my opinions to myself.”

I snort. “When have you ever done that?”

He gives me a side glance and twists his lips.

“If this is about Ace, nothing happened between us.”

“It’s not about Ace.” His knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. “But he’s a hell of a lot better than...”

“Than what?”

“Nothing.” He drags his fingers through his hair. “Doesn’t matter what I say anyways.”

“You should be nicer to me,” I say, teasing him, trying to lighten his mood. “You did just try to run me over with a jet ski.”

“Brat,” he mumbles, his favorite term for me since we were kids.

We drive the rest of the way in silence, and by the time he pulls up to Savages and Saints, his rotten mood has rubbed off on me. That, mixed with the nerves of not knowing if Zee will be there or not, has me grumbling as I get out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say, before shutting the door.

I turn towards my apartment, and my feet freeze. By the back dumpster, my mattress, dresser and flimsy bed set have been discarded haphazardly, and lean against the wall surrounded by boxes and garbage.

My pulse starts to race.

He wouldn’t.

Despite the ache in my head, I take the stairs two at time, fumbling with my keys to get the door open. When it doesn’t open immediately, I think Zee must have changed the locks. But then it clicks, and I push through the door.

Fresh paint is the first thing I smell. And new leather.

My boxes are gone. All of them. And the ratty old couch that used to be Kade’s has been replaced by a dark brown leather five-piece sectional that takes up half of the room. An enormous television that’s almost as big as the town’s only movie theatre hangs on the wall.

What the hell?

I walk through the apartment, and nothing in it is mine. Even the appliances have been switched out, replaced by stainless steel.

Anger flashes. No, not anger, rage.

“Zee,” I scream, storming to the spare room and opening the door. Sure enough, the walls that had been a bright pink — a color I chose and helped paint when Lola first moved in with Kade — are now a neutral gray. And there’s a new king-sized bed in the center of the room.

I’m going to kill Zee.

Where the hell is all my stuff?

I storm to my bedroom, expecting to find it emptied of my belongings, when the front door opens.

Zee frowns when he sees me. “What are you doing here?”

I’ve been known to overact from time to time. But there isn’t one cell in my body that tries to stop the rampage that builds in my chest, ready to explode.

“How dare you?” I yell, making my temple throb.

“You’re angry?” He shuts the door, frowning at me.

“Of course, I’m angry. Where did you put my stuff?”

“A storage unit.” He walks towards me. “I have the key if you need something from it. I didn’t open the boxes, but half of them said shoes. Didn’t think you’d be needing them.”

“You didn’t think...” Breathe Quinn. And whatever you do, don’t cry. “Does Kade know about this?”

“I didn’t know I needed his permission?” He stares down at me, and I can’t read his expression.

Tears gather in my eyes, but more from frustration than anything. The only thing holding them back is my anger and the need to smack his chest. I ball my fingers into fists, but keep them locked at my side. I’ve already given him one black eye. Two, and people might start asking questions.

“You can’t just kick me out.” My breathing comes in harsh, shallow breaths.

“Kick you out?” He frowns. “I’m not...why would you think that?”

“This”—I toss my arms in the air and look around—“And you threw out my freaking bed.”

His jaw ticks, and his brows drop, then he pushes past me.

“I knew you were an asshole but this is—”

I shut my mouth when he opens my bedroom door.

My stuff is gone, but it’s been replaced by a dark mahogany queen-size sleigh bed, with matching dresser and nightstands. The comforter looks like something out of a Michael Amini catalogue, with matching throw pillows.

“I thought you’d appreciate a new bedroom set, since I’m pretty sure you’ve had the same one since you were a kid.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I should have asked...”

“Oh.”

“If you don’t like it—”

“No. It’s...” Perfect. And way too much. And not something I’d ever expect from him. I shake my head. “I thought...”

He moves towards me, stopping when he’s inches away, but doesn’t touch me. “Kade said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t stand to be there any longer.”

He brushes my hair back from my cheek. “You should be resting.”

“I’ve been resting for three days.”

I can’t tell what he’s thinking. In all honesty, I’m confused about everything right now.

“Does this”— I glance around the room, with the new furniture and paint—“mean you’re staying for a while?”

His lips thin and the muscles in his jaw clench. “No.”

My heart sinks.

“How long?”

“I don’t know.” He takes a step back and drags his fingers through his hair, his eyes growing guarded. “You should get some sleep. I’ve got some things I need to deal with. I’ll try not to disturb you while I’m here.”

It’s like we’ve taken a dozen steps backwards and I have no idea why.

I want to call him out on it. Bring up the kiss. But he’s already retreated to his bedroom, and I hear the click of the lock.

My head is throbbing too much to fight, but that’s exactly what it will be if I try to press things. I saw the resolve in his eyes. Once again, I’m put back in the no-touch zone.

There’s a knock on the door, and I think about letting Zee answer it. It’s probably one of my brothers. Let them figure out what’s going on in the man’s head. Because who the hell renovates an apartment, and buys brand new furniture if they’re not planning on staying?

Zee St. James, that’s who.

Another knock.

I grumble as I walk towards the door and open it.

Sun-streaked blond hair hanging over his forehead, Ace stands there, holding a bouquet of pink and white tulips. “Heard you had an accident.”

I’m sure the entire town knows about it by now.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He shifts from one foot to the other nervously.

“Thank you.” I take the flowers when he hands them to me. “You didn’t have to—”

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he says quickly. “I shouldn’t have come back here the way I did.” He moves closer and takes my hand. “I really like you, Quinn.”

My heart flutters. Not the intense ripples of heat and electricity I feel when Zee touches me, but something softer, something that I’d probably pursue if the man of my dreams — and nightmares — wasn’t a room away, promising me only heartbreak.

“Ace—”

“Jason,” he says. “That’s my name.”

I give him a small smile. “Jason, I just—”

He kisses me then. It’s quick and hard, and I don’t have a chance to react before he pulls back.

“I...” Touching my lips, I don’t know what to say. “I’m not looking for anything right now. Things are complicated.”

If complicated was spelled ZEE.

Ace, or Jason, like he now wants to be called, frowns, but nods. “I can wait until you’re ready. Call me when you are.”

He turns and I watch him walk down the stairs before shutting the door and letting out a long, uneven breath, eyes closed.

When I turn around, Zee is standing there.

“Nice flowers.” His eyes are hard, unreadable.

I ignore him, moving into the kitchen to get a vase.

Zee follows me. I can hear his rough breaths behind me. Feel the heat of his body. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the tension radiating off him as he just stands there.

“What?” I swing around, tulips still in my hands, knuckles whitening around the stems.

“You like that guy?” Green eyes bore into me.

I hold his gaze.

Is he jealous?

No. Men like Zee don’t get jealous. They just move on to their next willing victim.

I ignore him and keep opening cupboards. But everything has been moved.

“Where did you put the damn vases?” Finally, I find one below the sink.

“I asked you a question. Do you like that guy?”

I give a one shoulder shrug as I fill the vase with water. “He’s nice.”

Zee grunts. “No guys are nice, unless they want something.”

I shove the flowers in the vase, then turn around, hands on my hips.

“And what do you think he wants?” I challenge.

“What every guy wants. Sex.” The way he says the word makes my core clench.

“And who says I don’t want the same thing?”

He takes a step toward me, and the predatory look in his eyes has me taking one back, causing my back to hit the counter.

“Do you?” His nostrils flare.

One. Two. Three seconds pass between us as I consider my answer. I don’t play games. And making Zee jealous, if that’s even possible, just to get a reaction from him, isn’t on my agenda.

But I won’t lie to him either.

“I have needs. The same as anyone.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He’s so close, and yet I know he won’t touch me. Not the way I need. Not the way I want. Being near Zee is like experiencing every emotion on hyperdrive all at the same time. Lust wars with self-preservation, but I’ve never been good at protecting my heart. Or filtering my thoughts.

“I’ve already told you what I want.” I turn my back on him, my arm brushing against his hip as I do. “But if you’re not man enough to give me what I need, then I’ll find someone else who is.”

I hear the low growl from his throat before I can calculate the danger of what I just taunted him with. He moves swiftly, his large, hard body trapping me against the counter, and I can feel the heavy length of his erection against my back, as one hand tangles in my hair, lifting it so that his mouth has access to my neck.

“It’s not whether I’m man enough to give you what you need, Quinn,” he says against the shell of my ear, making me shiver. “But whether you’re woman enough to accept that this doesn’t have a happy ending.”

As his teeth rake against the sensitive flesh, his other palm flattens against my stomach, then slides lower. Even through the denim, the heat of his hand when he cups my pussy, has me trembling against him, my panties already wet.

I close my eyes.

“I know,” I whisper. “But I still want you.”

He breathes out a harsh breath. “Fuck.”

I lean back against him, and gyrate my hips against his hand, begging with my body for more of his touch.

His hand moves and I feel the loss of his touch immediately.

“Zee...” I whimper.

He pops the top button of my jeans, then slowly slides the zipper down, as his mouth travels across my jaw.

“When’s the last time you came without using that damn vibrator?” His fingers slip beneath my panties.

I suck in a breath. “I don’t know.”

He presses one finger inside of me, and I clench around him, as his thumb swirls across my clit.

Holy shit.

“God, you’re so wet.” His other hand drops from my hair, then snakes under my t-shirt, finding my breast. He pulls the material down, finding my nipple.

I moan, knowing I won’t last long with the way he’s touching me. I’ve waited an eternity to have him touch me, and the physical pleasure mixed with the intensity of my emotions are too much,

“I’m going to make you come, hard. On my hand.” He flicks my nipple as he slips another finger inside of me.

The ache builds inside me, my release so close.

“I want...you.”

He chuckles. “This is me.”

His strokes become faster.

“You know...what I mean,” I say breathlessly, my body a puppet to his movements.

“No, Quinn,” he says roughly against my ear, his erection pressing against my back. “Tell me.”

“I want your cock,” I beg, my body betraying me as it reaches a point that I know I can’t turn back from. “Inside me.”

“Not yet.” He chuckles softly, stroking me harder, playing my body like he plays his damn guitar.

“Zee.” I cry out then, my body spasming around his fingers, my legs giving out on me as my orgasm rips through me.

“Fuck, Quinn.” He gives a low growl-like moan, his arms the only thing stopping me from sinking to the floor, as smaller waves of pleasure continue to ripple through me.

Slowly, he removes his hand, but continues to hold me against his chest.

He presses his lips against my temple, then says, “Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be back later.”

Then he’s gone.

I barely have time to turn before I hear the front door clicking shut.

I’m left, once again, wondering how the hell I’m going to survive the torment that is Zee. St. James.