Hot to the Touch Page 17

  Uncertain? Quinn?

  “Two rooms, Marie?” His voice was low and gentle, but he might as well have shouted it for the way the meaning reverberated through her head. Her heart started pounding.

  Two rooms, Marie?

  He didn’t just want to spend the night, he wanted to spend it with her.

  She couldn’t look at him. The emotion was so powerful, the dream held for so long unfulfilled, that she was nearly frightened.

  “One is fine,” she whispered.

  His face relaxed; he took her hand and strode toward the front desk as if he couldn’t wait to get her upstairs.

  Oh, my goodness.

  “Good evening sir.” The reservation agent greeted them warmly, took Quinn’s special guest card. “One room?”

  “Yes, please. Nonsmoking.”

  “A king or two doubles?”

  Quinn didn’t even hesitate. “Two beds.”

  Marie went rigid. She’d assumed asking for one room meant they’d share a bed. Maybe Quinn had been thinking all along of separate beds to share platonically. Rooms here had to be extremely expensive. He was probably concerned only with saving money.

  Her face flamed; her stomach turned sick with disappointment. Two beds. Quinn hadn’t even blinked, hadn’t even paused to consider it. She wouldn’t have the nerve to tell him how she felt about him now. It would take all her courage to make it through this night, breakfast tomorrow and the long drive home.

  His sweet little sister Marie. She wanted to cry so badly her throat hurt.

  “We’re spending the night unexpectedly. Would you have necessities sent up, please? You can check my account…”

  “Absolutely, sir.” The man looked at Quinn a few more seconds, then searched his record on the computer and nodded. “I see it here. Yes, understood. We’ll send that right up. You can take advantage of our laundry service, and we’ll have the clothes you’re in now cleaned by morning.”

  “Thank you.”

  Quinn handed over a credit card. The man tucked key cards into a tiny envelope and after asking if there was anything else they needed, pointed them to the elevators.

  Marie followed Quinn numbly. Yes, there was something else she needed. But it didn’t look as if she was going to get it. And if not tonight, what hope did she have for the future?

  They made it to the fifth floor in agonizing silence, so uncharacteristic between them. Marie dragged herself after him down the hall, hardly even curious about the room now.

  However, it was beautiful, spacious and airy, subtle colors accented with bold shades of blue, gold, burgundy and olive-green. Two damn beds, a comfortable-looking recliner, a huge flat-screen TV on a long, low credenza. Next to the door to what must be a balcony, a chair and table, on which sat a lamp and a pretty bouquet of yellow flowers Marie didn’t recognize.

  She tossed her purse on one of the beds and kicked off her heels, trying as hard as she could to act naturally. Little sister Marie spending the night with big brother Quinn.

  “Nice room.”

  Quinn nodded, took off his jacket and loosened his tie. Oh, lord, at some point before sleep, he’d be taking off his shirt. His pants. Sleeping in a bed right next to hers. Waking up languid and sleep-rumpled.

  Her physical longing for him became ridiculous. She wished she’d thought to ask the staff to send up sleeping pills suitable for knocking out a moose. Because she wasn’t going to get a single wink tonight.

  “Want to hang out on the balcony until our overnight stuff shows up?”

  “Sure.” Anything to get out of the bedroom and put off the strain of spending their first and last night together in total non-intimacy.

  The air was chilly, a stiff wind blew toward the lake on their right. But the magnificent view of the river and Chicago’s glittering downtown more than made up for the discomfort. Physically, anyway.

  “Gorgeous.” Marie tried to concentrate on the sights, but she was so aware of him standing next to her that she felt off balance. Good thing there was a railing or she’d pitch right off the balcony.

  “It is. Are you cold?”

  “A little. But only because it’s freezing.”

  He laughed, then shocked the hell out of her by moving behind her and wrapping her in his arms. “Better?”

  “Much.” She could barely get the word out. He was warm and solid and sexy, and he was never going to be hers.

  “Think you’ll stay in Milwaukee forever, Marie?”

  She shrugged, taken aback by the question. “I have no plans to leave. Why, what about you?”

  “I’d like to retire somewhere warmer.”

  “Like?”

  “The darkest jungles of Africa.”

  She twisted to see his face, which she could, but only barely in the dim light. “Are you serious?”

  “Nope.” He grinned and she managed to grin back. “I’m thinking North Carolina in the mountains. Maybe Colorado in the mountains. Or Washington State—”

  “In the mountains.”

  “How did you know?” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Do you like mountains, Marie?”

  “I love them.”

  “Good.”

  “Why, I get to come visit?”

  His arms tightened around her. “Something like that.”

  “Sure. I’d love that.” She’d hate it. After tonight, she was—

  “Do you want to sleep alone tonight, Marie?”

  She stopped breathing, had to run his question through her brain again. Did she want to sleep alone? A buzz of pleasure and excitement chased around her body. She had to make sure there was nothing she could misunderstand, that he really meant…

  Oh, Quinn.

  “No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

  “Thank God.” His arms turned her in a willing circle, and he kissed her, not platonically, not sweetly, not like he’d ever kissed her before. Not like anyone had ever kissed her before. Passion. Intensity. Fierce desire.

  For her.

  He backed her into the room; she nearly tripped on the threshold; they laughed like old friends, which they were, and about to become new lovers. The mattress hit the back of her thighs and she fell onto the bed. He wasn’t far behind her, covered her imperfect female body, with his magnificently male one, and she was lost in a haze of lust so strong she could barely take in what was happening.

  Her hands were all over him; his were all over her. Her shirt was off. His shirt was off; she caught her breath at the sight of his chest and abdomen, still youthful and muscular.

  “Marie, you are so beautiful.” He unhooked her bra, lowered his mouth to her breast, groaning with pleasure.

  He thought she was beautiful.

  His pants were off. Her skirt was off. His briefs. Her underpants.

  He was hard, smooth and beautiful, hard for her.

  She stretched out long on the bed, wanting to minimize her stomach, thinking she should start a serious gym regimen if she was going to be competing with—

  “I have wanted this for so long.” He kissed down her stomach. “So long, Marie. For months I’ve been wanting this, wanting you. You’ve been leading me in this completely sadistic dance and I’ve been doing everything I could think of to get you into my life, into my bed.”

  She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. “Sadistic? Me?”

  He was silent. Silent because he was kissing her in the most intimate way possible and she was so wildly aroused she could only lie back and let out helpless moans of pleasure. His tongue was so warm and she hadn’t been touched there in so long. She was out of her mind. She wasn’t going to last. He had to stop or she’d—

  She clutched the bedspread and let out a sharp cry as an orgasm took her by surprise, coming on so swiftly and strong that she didn’t have time to take control, to save it to share with him.

  “Quinn…” She struggled to lift her head, feeling as if her body had weights on every inch. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  He lau
ghed, all previous tension gone. “That felt like a mistake?”

  “No.” She laughed with him, stretching her arms luxuriously. “No, not at—”

  A sudden knocking shocked her to sitting up in half a second. Quinn’s curse shocked her into more giggles.

  “Stay there.” He lunged off the side of the bed, grabbed his pants and had them on in an instant, though he had some trouble getting the zipper up over his divinely wonderful erection. An erection she was going to be able to get to know intimately.

  Was this really happening?

  “Room service.” The call came muffled through the door.

  Room service? They hadn’t ordered any.

  “Right here.” Quinn strode over, out of sight of the bed.

  Marie heard the door open, heard a murmured conversation. The door closed.

  “We ordered room service?”

  He reappeared, pushing a cart with champagne in an ice bucket and a plate with a domed top. In his other hand, a neat little case, which she assumed held their toiletries for the night.

  “Champagne and some smoked salmon?”

  “Quinn.” She shook her head, letting him see in her eyes how pleased and happy she was. “You seriously spoil me.”

  “I’ve been wanting to for a long time, but you’re very hard to spoil.”

  Marie frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever objected. And what makes you think I’m sadistic?”

  He dropped his pants, crawled toward her on the bed. “Every time I’ve tried to hint at my feelings for you, you’ve balked. I summoned all my nerve and finally kissed you after Dream Dance and you acted as if—”

  “Quinn.” She took his face in her hands, his beautiful, unbelievable George Clooney face, and kissed his mouth. “You told me I reminded you of your sister.”

  “You do. She’s beautiful, strong, intelligent, funny as hell and sexy.”

  “And so…” She looked at him in mock horror. “You’re hot for her?”

  “No.” He scrunched up his face in disgust. “Of course not.”

  “See?”

  “Yeah, and I remind you of your brother, remember?” He toppled her back on the mattress, covered her body again with his. “This brother you’ve never told me anything about. What’s he like, immature and annoying?”

  She giggled. “He’s a complete blank.”

  “Oh, thanks.” He pretended deep hurt. “That’s just great.”

  Marie drew her finger down his beautiful cheek, thinking of how often she’d wanted permission to touch him like this, hardly daring to believe she had it now. “I don’t have a brother, Quinn.”

  “Then why did you—” He rolled his eyes. “Sadism. I told you.”

  “Self-protection, not sadism. What about this man you were going to match me up with?”

  “Oh, that.” He gave a smug smile. “That was me.”

  “You!” She gave a shout of laughter. “You’re kidding. Talk about sadism.”

  He kissed her mouth, traveled down into the curve of her neck. “And the problem I’d invested a lot of emotion and hope in and wasn’t sure it would work out?”

  “Me also?”

  “You also.” He returned to her lips, kissed them over and over. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, still not daring to believe this was happening.

  “We’ve wasted a long time protecting ourselves from each other,” he murmured.

  “When neither of us was sadistic after all.”

  “Neither of us.” He nudged her legs apart, settled between them, erection pressing firmly against her sex, lighting her fire all over again. “Marie, I tested clean after my wife cheated, and have used condoms with every woman since. I don’t want to use one with you, but I will if you’d feel more comfortable.”

  “I tested clean after my husband cheated, too.” She lowered her eyes. “There’s been no one else.”

  “I put nothing out there but my body, Marie.” He moved up and down, rubbing her still sensitive clitoris with the hard heat of his penis. “Until I met you I didn’t think anyone could touch my heart again.”

  “Yes.” Hers swelled with happiness. She knew exactly what he meant. “I felt the same way after my marriage fell apart. It takes time to get over that kind of pain.”

  “We won’t waste any more,” he whispered.

  “No.” She kissed him, welcomed him into her body, into her life, into her heart and remembered what she’d promised herself she’d do tonight. “Quinn…I love you.”

  He stiffened. Stopped moving. She held her breath until his body continued its delicious slide inside her. “From the second or third time we met at Roots I knew I was on my way to falling in love with you, too, Marie. Since then it’s only gotten stronger, week after week. I’ve wanted to hear you say that for so long.”

  “I was afraid.” She looked into his eyes, moving against his thrusts, feeling happier than she ever had, and more sure than she’d ever been about anything that this man was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And maybe now, after this glorious night, she could start to believe she was the best thing for him, too.

  “Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. Not anymore.” He put his cheek down next to hers, slid his arms underneath her. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not later. And if what I’m feeling tonight is any indication…not ever.”

  13

  “HOW ABOUT THAT BREWERS’ GAME last night?” Troy aimed for the basket on the guys’ usual court at Kerns Park, where he met his friends regularly on Sundays for basketball games. Troy missed his shot spectacularly, though he managed to snag the rebound.

  “Unbelievable contest.” Kent, Kim’s brother, intercepted Troy’s pass to Chad, who, to everyone’s relief, had replaced Kent’s misogynist friend Steve in their foursome. “Fourteen innings on a zero-zero tie.”

  “Brewers pulled out a great win.” Troy wiped sweat from his forehead. It felt good to be warm outside since the temperature had remained stubbornly below average. “I thought they were done when the Reds loaded up the bases in the twelfth.”

  “I was at that game.” Nathan casually stole the ball from Chad and made a perfect layup. “Amazing pitcher’s duel.”

  “Incredible.” Troy caught the ball, made a halfhearted feint. He was feeling restless and crabby, not sleeping well, even his workouts weren’t helping. “The crowd must have gone wild when the Brewers won.”

  “We missed the end.”

  “You didn’t stay?” Troy was so appalled he stopped dribbling; Kent took advantage, grabbing the ball away to make a shot.

  “We left after nine innings,” Nathan said. “Kim wasn’t up for it. She was tired.”

  “Tired?” Troy rushed to cover Kent. That’s what caffeine was for. Granted it was still early in the season, but a game like that, a shutout on both sides… Troy would have given Kim the car keys and said, “Go, I’ll take a taxi and catch ya later.”

  He caught a pass from Chad, feinted left, went right, leaving Kent in his dust, and took a shot that swished satisfyingly through the basket.

  Yeah, right. More likely he would have done exactly what Nathan had: tenderly escorted his woman out of the park, even though his insides were screaming, Nooooo!

  After his fight with Darcy a week ago, and during their mutual silence since then, the fear had taken over. He still wanted her. Still loved her. For the right or wrong reasons? He wanted to talk out the situation further, but until he had something new and constructive to add to the argument, he didn’t see the point. Either they’d rehash the same conflict or talk around it, neither of which would do a damn thing for either of them or for their relationship—or whatever was left of it.

  And right there was the problem. He’d just been feeling strong, back on his feet, no longer pining for Debby, understanding his patterns, and now…he was back right in it, caring so deeply for someone that all his thoughts and feelings were caught up in her 24/7. No, he hadn’t gone with her when she dove off the emotional deep end, so yeah
, he’d kicked that habit, but that was small comfort when he was miserable without her.

  Kent caught his rebound, went over Chad’s head and scored again. They played a fairly listless game for the next half hour, then Chad picked up the ball, glanced at his watch and shot a pass to Troy. “I gotta go, guys. Bev wants to get the garden planted this weekend. We’re going to Stein’s nursery this afternoon.”

  “Ooh, hot date for Chad.” Troy nodded to Nathan and Kent. “You real men up for a pint at Wolski’s?”

  Kent looked suddenly pained, pushed back his blond hair, squinting his blue eyes, which were so like his sister Kim’s. “I, uh, have a date.”

  “Stein’s or a real hot date?” Troy chucked the basketball at Kent, who caught it and shot it back just as hard.

  “I’m seeing Lucy.” He cleared his throat, grabbed the hem of his shirt and wiped his forehead. “We’ve been out a few times. We’re meeting at four.”

  Troy checked his watch. Two. “So you can’t go out now because…”

  Kent looked mortified. “I got things to do.”

  Troy laughed, faked whipping the ball at him again. “What, you have to wax your legs?”

  Kent rolled his eyes and headed off the court. Chad followed. Troy stood with the ball, aware he was acting nearly as badly as misogynist Steve and not caring. He gave Nathan a challenging glance. “What’s your excuse?”

  Nathan walked over and thumped Troy on the back. “Wedding planning. We’re meeting with the florist. Like that one?”

  “Jeez, what is up here?” He laughed harshly. “You guys can’t pass gas without permission now?”

  “Dude, we have stuff to do.” Nathan left the court with the others, leaving Troy alone, feeling like the dorky kid ganged up on in the playground.

  Chad gave him a withering look. “This from the guy who when Debby ordered, ‘Jump,’ said, ‘Into what pile of crap and how deep, dear?’”

  “I’m not that guy anymore.” Troy dribbled the ball a couple of times, ashamed of his outburst. Something deep and angry was being triggered by this conversation, and he needed to get it under control before he damaged friendships.

  “Oh, wait a sec, wait, I recognize these symptoms. I get it now.” Nathan held up his hand for attention, grinning wickedly. “Two questions. What’s her name and what did she do to you?”