You killed my brother…

The words blaze across my mind through the trip to the hospital and the medical exams and police reports. I remember it every time I swallow and my bruised throat protests at my near-strangulation at Deacon Matthews’s hands.

Turns out Deacon was in prison for assault and battery when I shot and killed his younger brother, Ridge, in self-defense last year. The moment Deacon was released a month ago, he came after me. His re-arrest for violation of his parole meant he was back in prison before nightfall on Monday, even before fresh charges for his assault on me were brought.

But a week after the incident, I still can’t get the words out of my head. I can’t shake the melancholy weighing me down. I knew taking a life would be a burden I’d have to live with the rest of my life, but I didn’t think it would become this recurring nightmare.

Quinn is worried out of his mind. He called a board meeting first thing on Tuesday and temporarily handed over the reins of Blackwood Estates to his vice president, after which there was a press release announcing he was taking a leave of absence.

He never stopped to regroup after all the shit that happened with his father and stepmother and me last year. And with every adversity that’s been piled on us since then, we’re both at the breaking point. I understand his need to take a step back from it all. And although that means I’ve become his sole project, I can’t even summon the enthusiasm to find out whether I’m pleased or worried about it.

Jets of hot water stream over me as I stand, head bowed, in the shower. I have no idea what day or time it is. I know I’m healing because the bruises around my throat have faded. Beyond that, nothing much registers.

The door opens behind me, and I hear Quinn enter. The sound of a bottle opening precedes the slide of gel-filled hands over my body. My nipples pucker, and heat flows through my body, but the heavy weight in my head stops me from moving, from enjoying his touch.

“Elyse.” His voice is low and deep. I still love the sound of it enough to close my eyes and absorb it.

“Hmm?”

His arms slide around me, pulling me against him. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

I nod woodenly.

“Please look at me when you say that.”

I attempt to lift my head, but I give up and shake it instead.

He doesn’t say a word. In silence, he finishes washing me and then dries me off. When we leave the shower, he drapes a bathrobe over me before he throws one on himself. I faintly register that as not normal. Hell, I didn’t even know we owned bathrobes.

When we walk into the bedroom, I know why.

Three members of the concierge staff are moving briskly between our dressing rooms and the bedroom, piling clothes and accessories into suitcases.

“What…what’s going on?”

He links our fingers and brings them up to his mouth. His lips graze my knuckles as he stares at me. “We’ve both had enough of New York for a while, I think. So pick a destination. Anywhere in the world and I’ll take us there.”

I look from his pleading, captivating face to the organized chaos around us. I think of all the places I dreamed of visiting a million years ago. I can’t summon even one. I shake my head. “I can’t…”

“It’s okay. I’ve got this. I’ve got us.” The way he stresses the last word makes my heart jump a little, but I’m still lost in my head when he leads us out of the bedroom. There are two more staff members going through the apartment gathering stuff. We wander to the living room, where one of the catering staff is setting out a tray of what looks like a Spanish tapas meal. I look out the window and notice the sun’s setting.

Quinn sits me down on the sofa, loads a plate of food, and takes a seat next to me. “We leave in an hour, but first I need you to eat something, okay?”

“Okay.”

My response appears to please him. He smiles, kisses my temple, and feeds me a piece of tortilla-wrapped chicken. Although my enjoyment of the food is markedly absent, he still nods in approval when I chow down a good portion of what he feeds me.

By the time the staff wheel ten suitcases into the living room, we’re done eating. We head back into the bedroom to get dressed. A sleeveless jumpsuit is easy to pull on, and the soft wool design doesn’t require a bra, which gives me one less thing to worry about. I throw on a cashmere cardigan and scarf, catch my hair up in a ponytail, and I’m ready to go.

Quinn emerges from his dressing room pulling on a black sweater over black cargo pants. Against the black clothes, thick black hair, and dark stubble, his eyes stand out like piercing white lasers. I freeze and stare, even as my heart jolts wildly in my chest.

He catches me looking, and a slow smile spreads across his face. It’s a smile I’ve seen before. There’s unshakeable intent there. A purpose. A vow.

My insides shake a little when he holds out his hand. “You ready?”

The question is more than its face value. It’s a promise of a next step in this turbulent existence we call our relationship.

With a bracing inward sigh, I place my hand in his. “Yes.”

Our bags are stowed in a separate SUV, and Lionel is waiting by the limo when we get downstairs. I spend the whole journey to Teterboro Airport sprawled against Quinn with my feet on the seat. He’s content to stroke whichever body part his wandering hand finds, and I close my eyes and bask in his touch.

The transfer from car to plane barely registers before I’m tucked beside him again and we’re soaring into the sky. I watch the carpet of lights below us grow distant before I turn to him.

“Where are we going?”

His eyes gleam down at me for a moment before his lips find my cheek. “It’s a surprise. Go to sleep. I’ll wake you before we land.”

It looks like leaving New York behind also loosens the demons’ hold on me. I fall into heavy sleep, and when Quinn scoops me up in his arms a while later, I’m too lost in delicious sleep to wake up properly.

When I next open my eyes, it’s to blinding sunlight and a heavy dose of déjà vu. Except it’s more than that. It’s a reality of white sheets. Sea air. Crisp white T-shirt and panties.

 I lurch upright. My hands curl in the sheets, and my heart begins to race. He’s brought me to the scene of where he first had me.

When he was Q and I was Lucky.

My gaze darts around the room, searching for evidence of a camera. I don’t see one, and I’m not sure whether to be pleased or disappointed. I’m still processing what’s happening when I hear a knock on the door.

“Umm…yes?” I half croak.

The door opens, and an unfamiliar woman enters, carrying a breakfast tray. “Hi, my name is Debbie. The boss has asked me to help you get ready.”

My already-racing heart triples in velocity. “Umm, okay. How long do I have?”

She sets the tray on my lap and glances at her watch. “He wants you over in his wing at midday. That gives us a little over three hours.”

On the one hand, I’m disappointed to have to wait three long hours to see Quinn again. On the other, I welcome the fierce, raw thrill fizzing through my blood. The events of the last week still linger in my mind, but it’s suppressed beneath the welcome weight of anticipation.

My appetite fully returned, I wolf down the bagels, coffee, and juice, much to Debbie’s delight on her return. Once she clears away the tray, we get to work.

I can barely sit still as I’m buffed, polished, and primped to within an inch of my life. Other parts of me are prepared that bring mortifying blushes to my cheeks, but the knowledge of what I’ll be receiving in return ramps up my excitement even more.

Midday sees me standing at the double doors that separate my wing from the other parts of the massive South Carolina mansion. With my hair swept up into a knot on top of my head, I feel especially naked. I look down at the royal blue teddy and matching thong, the black lace-up corset and garters, and the sky-high black heels. I reach up and touch the inch-wide black lace choker around my neck as my stomach flutters in excitement and more than a touch of trepidation.

“Is there a good reason you’re not coming to me, Lucky?”

My breath bursts out of me, and I freeze. I haven’t heard that sexy, electronic voice in over a year. Hot, torrid memories rain on me and trigger my feet into movement.

But like last time, when I hit the wide foyer and the twin curving staircases, I hesitate.

“Right stairs. Second door on the right,” he instructs. There are no cameras in sight this time. None that I can see anyway, but since he’s directing my movement, I assume he can see me.

My fingers trail over the polish wood as I climb the stairs. The heels necessitate caution but it also makes me painfully aware of the swing of my hips, the delicious throbbing between my legs.

“Hurry the fuck up, Lucky.” There’s an edge to the electronic voice that heats up my blood. But I’m enjoying the return of glorious sensation so I keep the same pace. When he lets out a growl, I allow myself a small smile.

The smile disappears when I reach the set of double doors. My hands shake as I grasp the handles and push the doors open.

Two lamps burn from bedside tables. Enough for me to see that the room is decorated in the same tones as the color of my lingerie. And like all the rooms I’ve visited so far, it’s dominated by an emperor-size bed and sumptuous furniture that serve other purposes. The long leather seat, for example, that could serve as a perfect spanking bench. The high stool with a sturdy back and feet from which a pair of cuffs hang.

I swallow at the unapologetic masculinity and decadence of the room, and as I walk toward the foot of the bed, I smell my own arousal in the air.

But all of that falls away the moment I sense him behind me. I want to turn around, devour him with my eyes, my hands, but my instincts warn me to stay put.

I eagerly absorb the sound of him moving toward me. When his gorgeous scent hits me, I almost groan.

“Hello, Lucky.”

“Hi…Q.”

“You look exceptionally beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Am I also right in thinking you’re a little excited, too, my little firecracker?”

This time I groan at the name he coined for me in a similar room not far from here. “Yes, I am.”

“Hmm…” I hear him move away. A moment later, the screen of the TV hanging on the wall flickers to life.

My mouth drops open as I watch myself on-screen. The footage is from a year ago. I’m sitting on a scroll-lipped bench with a blindfold over my eyes, my hand resting on the seat. My breathing is erratic, and my skin is flushed.

“Do you remember her?” Q whispers from behind me.

“Yes,” I whisper back.

“Do you remember him?” he asks when Q walks into the frame.

“Yes.”

“Tell me how you felt in that moment.”

“Owned. Controlled. Free.”

“We need a reset button. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Will you let me help us with that?”

“Yes. Please.”

“How shall we start, hmm? Shall I make it so you can’t walk for a week?”

A thick shiver rolls through me. “God. Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…Q. Take me. Make me yours.”

“I will, in a moment. First let’s talk about what happened last week. Just for a minute.”

“Okay.”

“‘Relax, I’ll be fine.’ Those were your words to me before you went into the bathroom. Do you remember?”

“I know.”

“But a minute later, the asshole had his hands on you. Another asshole was attempting to take you from me. You get why some things need to change from now on, don’t you?” he says.

“Yes.”

“So going forward, two bodyguards with you at all times. Nonnegotiable.”

“Okay.”

“You call me if a fucking black cat walks across your shadow.”

“Understood.”

“And you absolutely do not do anything that even hints at putting you in danger.”

“I promise.”

He takes a step closer, and I feel his breath on my nape. “Good. Thank you. You have my promise that I will take the same precautions.”

Tears flood my eyes. “Thank you.”

“My body. My pussy. My heartbeat. My fucking life. You put them all at risk. I need to claim them all back now. You get that, don’t you, Lucky?”

My moan trails off in a desperate whimper. The sound of the voice distorter is utterly, nerve-shreddingly erotic.

“Was that a yes?”

“Yes! Do it, please.”

“Do what exactly? Chain you to this bed for the next fifty fucking years so you never get the chance to rip my heart out like that again? Or spank the shit out of you for trusting that goddamn cop instead of coming to me for help?”

I bite my lip because I get his need to vent.

“I need an answer, Lucky.”

“Do whatever you want, Q. I’m yours.”

His breath shudders out of him. “Again. Say it again.”

“I’m yours. Always. Forever yours.”

“Get on the bed, beautiful.” His voice is a gruff command.

I turn and head for the bed without looking at him. I’m saving that last, delirious prize for another minute. For a moment, I wish for the blindfold. In its absence, I keep my head lowered as I perch on the edge of the bed.

I see his feet first. Big, strong, and like everything about him, sexy. Then his muscled calves. Powerful thighs. Then, oh God. His thick, beautiful cock, framed proudly against trimmed hair and chiseled abs. Saliva fills my mouth, and I’m wracked with a churning need to touch. To taste.

“My God, Lucky. Your face…you take my breath away,” he says in a charged tone.

It propels my gaze up to his face. Except I’m denied that by the gorgeous mask covering his face. Black and gold, slashed at his cheeks with an opening for his mouth to do terrible and wonderful things to my body.

Q to the last degree.

My breath catches.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he demands.

“That I’m greedy when it comes to you. I want everything. A hundred times. At once.”

He takes that last, vital step and offers his body to me. “Take it. It’s yours.”

My ravenous hands brace at his waist, and I dip my head to drop an openmouthed kiss on the skin above his navel. His muscles jerk and ripple. I bring my teeth into play at the taut skin of his groin and the breath punches out of his lungs.

An instant later, his hands are attacking me too. The teddy rips, and he helps it along by tearing it apart. My panties meet the same fate. Meanwhile, I dip my head to that final glorious destination and slide my wet tongue over his magnificent length.

“Jesus. Do that again. Please,” he begs.

I repeat the action. His guttural moan blends in with a groan from the TV. My gaze shifts and I see Q on the screen with his head between my legs. The sight is so erotic that I’m momentarily captivated by it. Q angles his body, and we both watch our on-screen selves.

“Do you like seeing yourself like that?” he asks.

I would never have thought so in a million years before today. But watching us like that turns me so wet. “Yes,” I gasp around the head of his cock.

“God, me too. You’re so beautiful. Suck me, Lucky.”

I suck and lick and nip until, with a pained grunt, he catches me by the waist and flings me onto the bed. The sight of him prowling over me delivers a surge of heady sensation to my drowning senses. My legs are parting long before he settles his big, sleek body between them.

“Do you have any idea how I’ve craved you this past week? I’ve been off-my-head sick over you.”

I take his masked face in my hands and look deep into his eyes. “I’m sorry. But I’m ready to start again. Love me. Fuck me.”

My plea pulls a sound from his soul that will stay with me forever. With one powerful thrust, we’re joined in the most primitive of ways. His eyes sear into me, telling me everything his body is straining to do. I wrap my legs tight around him and pull him deeper into me.

“I love you, Lucky,” he tells me in that electric voice that brands the words into me.

“I love you, Q,” I respond, my thumb tracing lovingly over his lips as he slides excruciatingly deep into me.

We fuck like that. Slow. Deep. Eyes devouring each other.

When our breathing starts to speed up, he reaches into his mouth and pulls out the thin wire of the voice distorter. Still keeping his eyes on mine, he drags off the mask and tosses it away, and my vision is filled with his perfect face. His naked emotion.

“I love you, Elyse.”

“I love you, too, Quinn. With everything that I am.”

A bright sheen mists his eyes. Or maybe it’s mine that fill. I don’t know, and I don’t care. We fuck. We weep for the past. We promise our hearts and souls to the future. And in that beautifully decadent room on Kiawah Island, we’re reborn.