Avery

The piercing shriek of the kettle assaults my head. I trip over my feet on my way to flip off the stove burner. After I move the kettle aside, I bury my temples against my palms, resting my elbows on the counter for support.

A hangover I can deal with. But this is a whole other level of day after dejection.

I plop a green tea bag into my cup and pour steaming water over it. Then I think better and make a second cup. I owe Quinn a hell of a lot more than a stupid cup of tea, but it’s a start.

I feel his heady presence before I turn to see him standing in the entryway of the kitchen.

Our eyes lock, silence stretching out between us like a gulf. And I should feel desperate to fill it, but a strange comfort settles over me that he’s still here. That he didn’t fling himself out the door at the first ray of light.

His white dress shirt hangs open, black tie left undone, matching the unkempt look of his unruly hair. Which is the first time I can say I’ve ever seen Quinn out of sorts. My gaze roams lower to the tattooed words peeking from beneath his unbuttoned shirt. A quote covers the upper-right side of his chest. I first noticed it when I saw him stretched out on the floor this morning, but I still can’t make out the words clearly.

“Tea?” I offer lamely.

His crooked smile sparks a flutter in my stomach. “Have anything stronger, like coffee?”

I shake my head. “Not in this house.”

He cocks his hip against the counter, crosses his arms. “Tea is fine.”

Turning my attention to the cups, I keep busy with adding honey, slicing lemons… “Thank you for being there for me yesterday.” I add a slice of lemon to each cup and bob the tea bags. “And for not taking me to the hospital. I know it was asking a lot, and totally against protocol, but—” I face him, needing to look into his eyes, no matter what I find there. “It might not seem like it, but it was the right thing to do.”

I wish I could read his mind. Know exactly what the slight furrow of his brow means, the serious, hard stare of his hazel eyes. When he breaks the intense stare off, it’s to reach up and feel the scruff along his jaw.

“It might’ve been the right thing for you, but it was most definitely not the right thing for me,” he says.

His words pierce my heart. “Oh,” is my pathetic response.

Quinn’s mouth hardens into a line. “I can’t ever do that again, Avery.”

Averting my gaze, I stare at my bare feet. My legs that I shamefully forgot to cover up and my dumb T-shirt that just barely hides my ass. After yesterday, I didn’t feel the need to hide, or for any stupid pretenses. Obviously, I made a huge error in judgment.

“I should go get dressed. Your tea’s on the counter.”

I attempt to rush past him, but he clasps my arm and pulls me to a stop. I wince at the sudden stab of pain in my shoulder.

The mortified look on Quinn’s face steals my breath. “It’s not you,” I rush out before he thinks the worst of himself. “My shoulder was hurt…yesterday.”

His features relax, but just as quickly, his eyebrows draw together in concern. “I thought you said you weren’t hurt?”

“I wasn’t. Not really. But it’s not as if they handled me like a delicate flower petal.”

He scrubs his hands down his face, releasing a groan. Then he goes to touch my shoulder, and I step back.

“It’s fine,” I assure him. “Hot water will help.”

Before I’m successfully out of the room, he says, “You do understand why?” I turn toward him. “Why that was so hard for me?”

A whole list of reasons quickly formulates. His feelings for Sadie. Getting involved with a colleague never ending well. Ruining a friendship.

But the one thing that sticks out—despite all my effort to suppress it—and coils my stomach in tight knots, is the one thing I know Quinn is adamant about.

Never get involved with a victim.

And regardless if he didn’t see me as one before, that’s exactly what I was to him yesterday.

I move closer, my embarrassment receding now that my anger mounts. “I get it, Quinn. I appreciate what must’ve been a difficult situation for you, and I’m sorry that it was me who put you in it.” I swallow down the burn of resentment. “Don’t worry, though. It won’t happen again. I know the rules on victims, and I know that here, with me, is the last place you want to be.”

That furrow in his brow deepens. “What the hell are you talking about, woman?”

My shock must be apparent. I shake my head in fast jerks, blinking hard to fight back the stupid, angry tears. “You claim you don’t see me as a victim, and you put out all these mixed signals that I thought I was finally deciphering. But yesterday… Yesterday you could barely stand to touch me. It’s almost as if the very thought of it was physically painful for you. I don’t know if it’s because it’s me…or if the victim in me just disgusts you—”

Quinn moves so quickly that, before my last word is even voiced, his hand is in my hair and gripping me to him, his lips on mine.

The impact of his kiss rocks into me and I moan, unable to repress the sudden intensity of feeling his lips crushing mine. His other hand fists my shirt, then both are suddenly clutching my waist and lifting me off the floor.

I lock my arms around his neck as he hauls me across the kitchen. The counter where our cups tumble over, his destination. Then his hands are seeking my thighs, pushing the barrier of my shirt away, his mouth never letting up. Our breathing becomes ragged and desperate as we try to claim oxygen without losing each other.

When he does break the kiss, it’s to capture my neck. His hungry kisses and branding nips send me spiraling, and I link my legs around his hips, needing him closer.

He pulls back. “Does this feel like I don’t want you?”

My chest rises with my leaden breaths. I shake my head. “Why now?”

He groans. “Because now you’re Avery. Not drugged, not on some chemical to fuck with your senses. And if you can’t feel how badly I crave you—every fucking sexy bit of you—and if you don’t get that I’ve never seen you as a victim, not once…” he trails off, his gaze becoming heated. “Fuck, Avery. I just need you.”

“Touch me,” I say, the only response I can give him.

He doesn’t hold back. Not this time. Quinn consumes my senses; his masculine scent of cologne and leather, his rough hands adding friction to all the right places. And unlike before, when he barely allowed himself near me, he now ravishes me with a punishing voracity meant to tear down all obstacles.

As his mouth caresses my skin, his tongue and lips massaging the ache in my shoulder away, my hand subconsciously goes to my lips. Concealing the scar.

Quinn sharply changes course. His hand sinks into my hair, his thumb tilts my chin up, angling my face toward his. His other hand encircles my wrist, removing the barrier to my mouth.

“A force of habit…” I falter.

His gaze lingers on my lips as he moves in, sealing his mouth over mine and enveloping me in a sensual kiss. Then, he whispers, “Every. Fucking. Sexy. Bit of you”—his eyes ensnare mine—“is just as beautiful as the next part. You’re beautiful, Avery. Even your scars are beautiful to me.”

Then his teeth nip at my lip, tugging it into his mouth before he pulls me into a devastating kiss that shatters me.

I’m lit with a blazing heat as his hand finds its way between my thighs. With a swift, expert move, he tugs the lacy fabric aside, his fingers seeking me without hesitation. His back tenses underneath my hands as he swirls the pads of his fingers deeper. Cool air nips at my core, proof of my arousal.

“Christ, you’re so wet,” he whispers harshly against my ear, and I can’t help the smile stealing over my face. I’m wet—without any need of an aid.

I ache all over, completely insatiable. And when he pushes inside, filling me with two of his fingers and leaving them there…I tremble against him. “Oh, god, please move. I want to feel you inside me, Quinn.”

His rough growl heightens my need, and as he gives in, sliding his fingers deeper and with more force, all I can taste and sense is him.

I want to dissect this feeling—to try to understand how it’s Quinn that shreds my defenses. How with every other man—even with my cocktail—I have to power through the fear, block out the encroaching shadows.

But I can’t stop my mind from spinning long enough to unravel the meaning. Quinn tastes like pleasure and sin and longing. Such a powerful combination of emotions that steal my reasoning…but it’s as if I’ve always been aware of them. Just hovering on the edge of the both of us, waiting to be recognized. Like I’ve been denying myself a right to this feeling all of my life.

And now that it’s unleashed, ripping us both open at the seams, I dread the loss of it.

I arch into him, unable to control myself as he works me closer, my walls clamping down around his fingers and my body begging for more.

He nips at my ear, ratcheting up my desire. “I should’ve taken your pain yesterday, Aves,” he whispers. “I should’ve tasted your sweet pussy until you came in my mouth…and the only thing you knew was pleasure and how badly I wanted you.”

His words caress me, and as I build toward a climax, desperate to push past any banked uncertainty, I cling to his shoulders. He drops down and takes a nipple into his mouth, his hot tongue tasting me through my shirt, his teeth firing a sharp spike of need right through me.

“That’s it,” he assures. “Let me feel you come… I need to taste you.”

He dips lower, leaving me panting and aching, but soon his mouth—that mouth I have never heard utter such sexy things—takes me completely, finishing me off. His tongue swirls fast and needy over my clit, tipping me over the edge, as his fingers bring on a deep and consuming orgasm.

He pushes one of my knees up, spreading my legs wider as he devours me, my core pulsing against his thrusts. Then he meets me there. His mouth swallows my moan with a hungry kiss, taking the rest for himself.

When my breathing calms, he slows the kiss and pulls away. His eyes fervently holding mine, he reaches down and unclips his phone. “Stay right here…” he says. “I have to return this call.”

“I didn’t even hear it ring,” I manage to say around the receding aftershocks still thrumming through my body.

He crooks a wicked smile. “That does a guy’s ego good, but it’s on vibrate.”

This side of Quinn…a girl could get used to. But just like that, Quinn is all business, his cop persona slipping into place like the gun he holsters to his shoulder harness.

He makes his call, getting updates from a tech on a recent search, and I can’t help but eavesdrop. This concerns me, too, and no matter how badly Quinn might want to shelter me, I have more knowledge than he can imagine.

That thought dampens the moment, knowing he’s completely unaware of my true abductor’s identity, and has no idea that I’m connected to Wells’ death, or how the men who took me yesterday somehow know how deeply my level of involvement goes.

I haven’t even had time to process the reality of it all. Or what the hell it could all mean. But I do know that whatever is happening between me and Quinn changes things. The slight guilt I felt before in keeping Quinn in the dark has just multiplied by infinity.

Before yesterday, it was a necessity for Sadie and I to keep Quinn out of the know. I agree with her, that Quinn isn’t built for secrets. That he wouldn’t be able to shoulder our—my—guilt, trying to exist in a realm somewhere between his black and white belief system.

It would break him.

This much I do comprehend, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he’s possibly the only one besides Sadie who can connect all the puzzle pieces. There’s only one choice to make, really. As I’m even thinking this, watching Quinn pace the living room, I’ve already made it.

It’s what grownups do. It’s what responsible medical examiners do. We face our consequences, even when those consequences suddenly take on new meaning we never fathomed. How could I have known I’d find this…whatever the hell it is…with Quinn? And now, the chance of losing his respect and this connection to him is more terrifying than facing a prison sentence.

Oh, there’s definitely that, too…but just how much punishment would he feel I deserve? How much do I feel is enough? Retroactively speaking, what I suffered at the hands of Wells should count toward that sentence. I believe I bore more than any future punishment could hold for me—but the law doesn’t work like that.

Quinn doesn’t work like that.

Timing is everything, however. And there’s a selfish part of me that wants to hold on to this moment just a while longer—just to feel what it’s like to be with Quinn, no blurred lines between us.

Too bad we didn’t figure this out before my abduction. Before I was so irrevocably changed. At one time, I think I was the perfect girl for Quinn. Maybe that’s still what he sees in me… But he won’t see that anymore once the truth comes out.

Just how selfish am I? Right now, selfish enough to grab ahold of Quinn the second he ends the call. Push him against the wall and kiss him, tasting myself still lingering on his lips.

“My turn,” I whisper against his mouth.

His strong hands capture my shoulders, holding me too far away. “Avery, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “This is absolute want.”

He sighs, but I can see and feel his resolve weakening. “That sketch you sent? The one of the partial brand on the first vic? There’s been a hit. About fifty miles from here, a prostitute was found dead, abandoned in a Dumpster. Sound familiar?”

“Quinn—”

“Because of her profession, there was no autopsy. A large amount of opioids were found in her system, so the coroner recorded COD as a drug overdose.”

I clasp his hands, moving them down my body to rest at the small of my back, as I push up against him. Tenderly, I press a kiss to his neck, inhaling the scent of his woodsy cologne, and revel in the feel of him pulling me closer.

“I promise,” I say. “I’ll be right there with you. We’ll figure it out. We’ll stop the bad guys, and we’ll save lives. I just don’t want this moment to end so soon—I just want us to stay here for a little bit longer.” I bite his ear, loving the way he grabs my ass, grinding his cock against my belly. “Because when we leave through that door, we might not get it back for a while.” Or ever…

That thought pangs my chest and I squeeze my eyes closed, savoring Quinn’s strong hands holding me.

I ease my palms along his chest, sinking my hands beneath the leather harness and sliding it off his shoulders. As I push the leather straps down his arms, the feel of his muscles cording tight beneath my touch elicits a thrill inside me.

He catches the strap before the harness hits the floor and dutifully sets it on the shelf. “What are you doing to me?”

“This,” I whisper, gently tugging his black tie from his neck. I wrap it around my hand as it comes free of his collar. “Put your hands behind your back, detective.”

A cautious expression crosses his face before he follows through. “Cop clichés?”

I nod. “And a little incentive to help you relinquish your control.” Keeping his tie in hand, I back up enough to pull my T-shirt over my head. The way his shameless gaze takes me in bolsters my next move.

I press up against his chest, my nipples pebbling at the friction, as I maneuver the tie behind his back and link his wrists together. “Now I know you can get free, but if you want me to keep going, then you have to be good and stay in your cuffs.”

I pop onto my toes and taste his lips, sneaking in a little bite as I undo his belt.

I wrap my fingers around him, and he releases a sharp hiss. “Jesus…I’m not going to make it.”

Against my better judgment, I let a laugh slip. His severe frown cuts through me. “Quinn, like you keep saying to me, just relax.” Then I give him a wink before I drop to my knees, pulling his pants and boxers down with me.

The fact that I’m staring at Quinn’s cock should feel surreal. And it does, but at the same time, I can’t deny that I’ve never been this thrilled before. Rumors circulate around the precinct, and I’ve heard things. Like how Quinn lost his marriage. How he hasn’t dated since. And I’ve also sensed his attraction to Sadie.

So the thought of wiping his mind of every other woman and bringing him to his knees with my touch more than arouses me, and I’m taking him into my mouth with that very mission in mind.

He’s rock hard as I wrap my hand around him, his veins swollen, his shaft hot and thick. A salty taste of pre-cum hits my tongue, and I swirl it around the soft tip. He rocks his hips into me, and I let him fuck my mouth, taking him in deep.

“Christ, Avery…”

Hearing my name groaned out in Quinn’s husky way has me wet and aching. I use a hand to brace his backside, sucking him in deeper, suddenly unable to get enough.

The tense muscles in his ass, the way he pulls against the restraint of the necktie…has me seeking his face. My gaze travels up to capture his stare. My breathing intensifies as I watch his expression shift from yearning to ravenous. The hard gleam in his eyes conveys just how badly he wants this—wants me.

It’s more than empowering; it’s liberating.

I don’t feel vile or dirty. I don’t try to disappear into some sheltered space of my mind, waiting for the moment when I feel normal again. That realization beckons me on, giving Quinn every last bit of me, taking him with me past the point of ecstasy.

And soon he’s there, the rumble of his growl-like groan thrumming through me as he thrusts his cock toward the back of my throat. He releases into my mouth, and I don’t pull away. I clasp his balls and bear the gagging reflex as he comes.

His hand goes to my hair. His fingers grip a handful, and as he pulses against my tongue, I moan, letting the vibration of my voice take him over the edge.

He reaches down and hauls me to my feet, his mouth finding mine before any words are exchanged between us. With a blistering kiss that scorches my lips, Quinn grasps my face, holding me to him, his hard length still throbbing against my stomach.

“God, your mouth… I fucking want you so bad,” he says, his gruff voice a satisfying friction against my skin. His eyes flit over my face, tracing my features as if he’s trying to put together a clue. “How—?”

“Don’t detective this to death,” I say, stopping him before we both spiral down a wormhole of guilt. I don’t want to go there…not yet. “Let’s just…shower? Which is more than you should get for breaking out of your tie.” I wink at him.

His lips twist into a smile, but the blaring ring of his phone steals it away.

He releases me, and I cross my arms over my chest, the chilly air now noticeable without his comforting body heat. I then scoop my shirt off the floor, realizing that a shower isn’t happening as I listen to Quinn’s angry barks into the phone.

Reality had to come crashing back at some point. And when he hangs up, his arms flexing with the tight grip he has on the phone, that reality is frighteningly real.

“Get dressed, and grab some extra clothes and things,” he says, not facing me.

“Why? What’s going on?”

Quinn yanks his shirt together and starts buttoning it, then turns around, his face devoid of any of the passion we just shared. “There’s been an upset at the precinct. I can’t leave you here. You’re going with me. We’ll figure out a security measure—”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he cuts me off. “You’re in danger, Avery. For now, the only thing I can do to make sure you’re safe is keep you close.”

As he looks me over, his shoulders deflate. He moves before me and wraps his strong arms around my waist. Resting his lips against my forehead, he says, “I’m not good at this. But I am good at my job, Aves. Let me protect you.”

I nod against him. “I know. Okay.” Which means that our little bubble has popped.

“Give me time…and once we catch whoever is responsible for hurting you—”

“Quinn,” I say, putting my hand against his chest and inching away. “It’s fine. Let’s go get the bad guys.”