Chapter Fifteen

 

There were many things that Adam Quinn could have been doing with his evenings. There was one in particular he wanted to be doing, which he was slowly realizing, but there were good reasons that he shouldn't. So he wasn't going to, and for a time, Linda's chastity, however imagined, would be safe.

That was good. It made him feel better, in a sort of far-away kind of way, but it didn't help the itch that he was feeling. It didn't make the want go away, and the truth was that Adam Quinn was about as good at self-denial as anyone else.

Not very good, and not able to do it for very long. When you've got the kind of money, and with it the kind of power, that the entire Quinn empire had amassed for him, though… little excesses are bigger than usual, so to speak.

So it wasn't exactly a common experience for Adam Quinn to have to tell himself no, and it was particularly unusual for him to listen to that voice.

His hands balled up into fists before he knew what he was doing. There was nothing to be done for it, then. His phone was on the table, where it couldn't do any damage, and it ought to stay there. But the urge to go and grab it was building faster than his self-control could brick off the thought.

He stood and picked it up. His thumb hovered over the contact. He could drop his thumb, and it would call. There was a chance that he'd be refused. He'd been turned down before; it wouldn't be something new. But he'd been surprised by the lack of a refusal before, too.

He didn't expect her to refuse, though. Not the way that she'd been looking at him that night. The anonymity, however imagined, had let her show what she wanted, but that person was buried inside her, mask or no.

His thumb fell onto the screen, and he put the phone to his ear. His blood pumped through his veins harder than it should have, desire tugging at the crotch of his pants.

"Linda? You up?"

Her voice had a far-away quality to it. "Yeah, I'm up."

It took him a moment to register what he heard, and when he realized the distracted, tense quality in her voice as arousal that hadn't quite reached its conclusion, his manhood twitched automatically at the idea.

"Come to my apartment."

"Is something wrong?"

"We need to talk."

"How worried should I be?"

"As worried as you want to be," he answers, knowing full well that she'll worry more after he says it.

"I'm on my way."

He sets the phone down. He imagines her pulling herself back together, trying to get herself looking presentable. By the time that she arrives, smelling nothing like sex, she'll have complete deniability.

His teeth feel sharp. His tongue explores their pointed edges absent-mindedly. The wait is almost exquisite by itself. His phone rings and he picks it up automatically.

"I'm here. What's up?"

"Come on up, I'll get the door." He walks across the room as he speaks, pressing the button to open the front as he finishes the sentence. Somewhere far away, a buzz goes out, and he hears the door close behind her faintly.

"Which one are you?"

"I'll step into the hall," he says softly, and does so.

She's dressed professionally, just like he expected, and she looks as put-together as she ever has. Yet, she'd come in quite a hurry, at the same time. It was almost a surprise, but not enough to change his mind about what she'd been up to when he called.

"Are you alright? It's not too late, is it?"

He asks, knowing first that it doesn't matter, and second that she would deny it regardless. Further, knowing that it isn't too late.

"It's no problem. What did you want to talk to me about?"

His teeth still feel sharp in his mouth, and he wants nothing more than to sink them into her sensitive flesh. "We'll talk inside."

He steps back through the door and back into his apartment. She follows him inside and he shuts the door, and then the tone of the conversation shifts automatically.

"Is everything okay?"

"What were you doing at that party, Linda?"

Her face goes red and her eyes widen, but they turn away from him. "Is that what this is about?"

"I don't doubt that Tom wanted to know, too. Is that right?"

"I don't see—"

"Did you tell him?"

"No." She's squirming. It's a look that Adam likes. There's a little part of him that can't quite refuse that little desire to see her nervous.

"That's good." He steps closer to him, and for a moment he can see her relax, as if something threatened for an instant to overwhelm her nerves, and then she tenses back up and gets herself back under control.

"What's good? Why?"

He's right on the edge of her personal space. Intrusive, but not quite in her face. Not yet.

"You didn't tell him."

"What's that mean?"

He steps closer again. There's no more question of whether or not he's inside her space. He is, and he likes it. She doesn't move away, even though she's far from cornered.

"It means he doesn't get to have you," Adam says softly. "Not that I'd let that stand."

"What?"

"Don't lie to me," Adam says. He steps closer again, his body touching hers, his face only inches away from her own. "Don't play coy. You were there because you wanted something, and you left because you found out what it was. And you knew you weren't going to get it."

She looks up at him. He can see the force of will that it takes to stay still, her jaw tight as she holds herself still.

"And what's that?"

"To be taken," Adam answers. His tongue runs along the edge of his teeth again. They feel wrong in his mouth. They should be biting into a woman's soft throat. Her throaty breaths coming hard into his ear. "To be possessed by someone. Someone who takes what they wants. And now, I'm going to give that to you."

She takes a sharp breath and his lips find her neck, and she can't stop her voice from coming out just a bit as he finally takes what he wants.