Awakened Desires (24 page)

My heart felt like it was getting stomped on every time it beat. I let her slide off the dresser as I stepped back.

“I’m sorry, but I wish you would let yourself go,” I whispered as I grabbed her face with both of my hands. My thumbs wiped away the heavy tears that were falling down her cheeks. She put her hands on mine and gently pushed me back.

I stepped back further and she opened the door, leaving me standing there alone and in misery…with an aching hard-on.

Quinn dashed out of Gunther’s bedroom and rushed into hers, slamming the door shut and leaning against it. Trying to calm herself, she took several deep breaths, but it was hopeless. She covered her face with her trembling hands and slid down the door, ungracefully falling to the floor. She wrapped her arms around her body and cried until the well went dry.

For weeks, she had unexplainable feelings for Gunther, but she pushed them away. She didn’t know what to do about them because she held out hope for James. When Gunther kissed and touched her with his heavy hands, it felt so good. His kisses left a fire burning deep within her core. She dropped her guard for a minute and enjoyed his possession of her body, but as soon as her brain screamed at her, she pushed him away.

Finally, she picked her emotionally-drained body up off of the floor and crawled into bed, fully-clothed. She curled her body into a ball and decided the only way she could control her feelings for him was to shut him out. She would only talk to him if necessary, which wasn’t what she wanted at all. But she felt it was something that she had to do to keep herself from traveling down that road with him. Although, she had thoroughly enjoyed the relationship that developed between the two of them. It just felt right, but she felt irrevocably torn between moving forward with Gunther and allowing her love for James to continue to keep ahold of her heart.

Quinn ended up crying herself to sleep.

After a day filled with silence and glances, I sat on the edge of my bed, my face in my hands. Admittedly, I was sulking. I heard a light rap on the door, so I dragged my arse up off the bed and opened it.

Quinn.

Her presence took my breath away no matter what transpired between us. “Hey,” I said, emotionless.

“Blood?” she asked, her gaze drifting to the floor.

It killed me that she wouldn’t even look at me. All I could think of was how much I fucked everything up with our relationship…if that’s even what we had. “Only if you want to,” I mumbled.

She dodged around me, careful not to touch me, and sat down on the edge of the bed with her arm out directly in front of her. I closed and locked the door. Focusing on the dark shadows on the wall across from the bed, I almost felt like she was offering herself up for slaughter. I just stood there staring at her, feeling sick about our situation.

“I’m tired. I’d like to get to bed.”

“Right. Sorry.”

I went to my pack and pulled out everything I needed, then turned and faced her. She glanced at my abdomen as I lifted my shirt and pulled my belt off. When my cargoes slid down, her lips parted. She wanted me and she knew it. If anyone was afraid of the feelings that were between us, it should have been me. I wanted to experience everything with her, but she was too afraid to act upon what she felt.

I knelt down and put my hands on her thighs. “Quinn, please look at me.” She shook her head and looked off to her right. I placed myself into her field of vision then she looked to the left. “Can I at least apologize?” Her jaw trembled and her eyes filled with tears. She held strong, though, refusing to cry. “Well, I’m going to whether you want to listen or not.” She tried to stand, but I had a grip on her thighs, holding her there. “I’m so fucking sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I’m experiencing things I never have before. You’ve been so kind and generous to me. I don’t even deserve to be in the same room with a woman like you, let alone the same atmosphere. I beg for your forgiveness.” I paused, waiting for a response. Nothing. “Please, say something.”

“Just do the draw so I can go to bed.” Her voice was flat and it made my chest ache.

“Yeah, sure.” I hooked her up.

Minutes later, she was running for the door.

After her door slammed, I plopped my arse back down on the edge of the bed, rolling the vial in my hands. It was a gift of life from her and I didn’t take it lightly.

I popped off the cap and tipped it back, enjoying the feeling of Quinn’s life washing through my body. I set the vial down on the nightstand and crawled into bed. With my hands behind my head, I stared at the ceiling until the rush died down.

The sound of her crying next door kept me awake for hours. My stomach ached like someone had stabbed me in the gut with a dull knife and twisted. I wanted to help her through her sadness, but didn’t know how. Plus, she made it perfectly clear to me that she didn’t want my help. I rolled on my side and wished for the night to suck me in.

Even after a few more days had gone by, she barely looked at me. She would offer herself up for the draw every night. As soon as I had her unhooked, she would run for the door. Knowing I had upset her so much was the worst feeling. I pretty much just stayed in my room, feeling sorry for myself.

I apologized to her every chance I got, but she still wouldn’t speak to me. I hated that she was so furious. I wanted nothing more than for her to accept my apology and, at the very least, say hello to me once a day. Just one hello would give me some hope that our relationship was repairable.

I woke up from yet another restless sleep and stretched out on the bed. My spine and shoulders cracked and I sighed. It felt good to be limber. I looked to my left and saw it…the scar on my arm where the tracking device was implanted. A shudder went through me.

I decided that I needed to tell Quinn about it right away, whether or not she was willing to listen. I was going to
make
her listen. After pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, I went to her room.

When I knocked quietly, she opened the door a crack. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.” She just stood there in her tousled state, staring at me. “Please, Quinn…”

“I’m still not speaking with you.”

“Don’t make me get on my knees and beg.” I certainly would have if it meant talking to her for more than a second.

“Can it wait? I’m still sleeping.” She looked and sounded beautiful in her sleepy state.

“It’s kind of important,” I pleaded. She sighed and opened the door.

She was in a practically see-through white tank top, no bra, and her pink pretties were standing out proudly—and those shorty fucking shorts. J.T. noticed everything.

Sweet Jesus, please have some mercy on me.
It was like I was being punished for being a tosser. When she bent over to grab her hoodie…
Holy fucking hell
. Her arse peeked out from the bottom of her shorts.

Complete hardness.

Then she spoiled my view by yanking the hoodie over the tank top. I had to jostle J.T. around while she wasn’t looking so I didn’t look like a fucking twat with a tent pitched in my jeans. I felt like a thirteen-year-old lad looking at my first Penthouse.

I lowered myself down on the edge of her bed. She sat down at the head of the bed, pulled her hair up into a messy bun, and pushed her legs under the blankets. “What’s so important?” Her voice was rough and gritty, which was sexy as hell. I wanted to be with her desperately.

I shook it off for the time being because I really needed to talk to her about my tracking device. “I failed to tell you something the other night when I was confessing my dirty truth to you.”

“And what would that be?” She looked annoyed and sounded even more annoyed.

Maybe she wasn’t a morning person. Or maybe it was me. I’m pretty sure it was me. She was annoyed with me as much as, if not more than, I was annoyed with myself.

I held up my arm so she could see the heavy, neat scar on the underside of my forearm. “A scar? You woke me for a damn scar?”

I looked at her for a moment. “It’s not a simple scar, Quinn. It’s huge.” I smirked. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. I knew she had to have remembered me rubbing myself on her hip.

“Okay, so what is it then?”

“I have a tracking device implanted in me.”

“And?”

“And?” I was shocked that she failed to grasp the gravity of the situation. “The people who did this to me can track my every move.”

“What does that mean?” Knock, knock. Was there anyone home in that beautiful noggin of hers? Maybe I should have hit up the local Starbucks before having this deep conversation.

“They can hunt me down and kill me…along with anyone else I’m with.”

Her eyes popped open. Well, hullo there. Finally, she was with me. “Soooo…now what?” she said as she sat forward.

“I was thinking we could cut it out and destroy it.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wait… You want to cut open your arm and take it out?”

“Precisely.” I smiled.

“You’re psychotic.”

“And you’re just figuring this out?” I said with a smile.

She shook her head. “I won’t get infected?”

“No. It has to be a blood/saliva mix to take effect, but I do have a box of surgical gloves with my basic medical supplies if that would put your mind at ease.”

She pondered the situation for several moments before she said, “All right. Let me clean up and dress first.”

She got up off the bed and I watched her while she sifted through her belongings—enjoying the show that the shorty shorts were giving me. She turned around when she realized I hadn’t left yet.

“Oh, right. You want me to leave?” I thumbed toward the door.

“Yes!” She threw a towel at me.

“Gosh darn it.” I playfully tossed the towel back at her. She smiled and shoved me out the door.

So close
. I felt like things were getting back to where they were.

At early dawn, Josie was jarred awake by a tortured yell. Silently, she slipped out of bed and grabbed her gun. She checked under the door to see if she could see anything.

Another bellow came from somewhere in the house. Josie decided that she would investigate. She was worried something may have happened to Gunther or Quinn. Quietly, she opened the door and peered into the hall. Quinn’s and Gunther’s doors were open. He always told her to close and lock her door while she was sleeping.

Josie crept down the hall and peeked around the door into the kitchen. “Fuck! Arrrg!” Gunther ground out. His fist slammed down on the table.

“Shhh! You’re going to wake Josie up.”

“I’m sorry. It fucking hurts,” Gunther growled.

“You know, I cannot believe you. All this time and you tell me this
now
?”

“I was feeling guilty. Shit! And in case you missed it, we haven’t been exactly chatty as of late.” Quinn shushed him again.

In silence, Josie watched, still peeking around the doorway. She examined his shirtless, muscular physique. She couldn’t see what Quinn was doing, but Gunther was obviously in pain.

“Ugh…motherfucker,” he grumbled as he rested his forehead on the table.

“I think I have it.”

“We need to smash it to bits.”

“There. Hold the gauze on the wound for now.” Josie saw Quinn hold up something. “How did they put this in you?”

“Just cut me open, jammed it in there, and stitched me up.”

“While you were awake? No anesthesia or anything?”

He let out a sad laugh. “That was one of their ‘teaching you control’ moves, making you tough. ‘You will be impenetrable like Kevlar’ was a line they would use.” He laughed again, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. He was using it to cover his pain, but Quinn figured him out.

“Well, it sounds like torture to me.” She disinfected the wound and started to stitch it closed.

“Basically.”

The curiosity finally got to Josie.

“What was torture?” Josie asked, stepping out from around the doorway. Quinn jumped, which made her yank the needle up, pulling up on my fresh wound.

“Motherfucker!” I bellowed. I hoped Quinn didn’t think I was a wuss because I was surely sounding like one. Then I saw that Josie was holding her gun by her side.

“I’m sorry we woke you, sweetie,” Quinn murmured.

“
What
was torture?” Josie repeated herself, more sternly. Quinn and I looked at each other, wondering who was going to talk first. “Well?”

I coughed a little like I was clearing my throat. But, in reality, I was trying to think of something to say. “Me. I was tortured.” Josie looked at me, confused.

Quinn sank back down and continued suturing the opening in my arm. Josie stepped closer and looked at what was on the table: a bloody knife, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a roll of gauze, and the short, metal cylinder.

“Listen, why don’t you go back to bed?” I wasn’t in the mood to entertain Josie’s questions.

“What’s going on?”

“A lot that you wouldn’t understand,” Quinn replied, pulling the needle back and forth through my forearm, tying each stitch as she went. “Just go, Josie.”

“No,” she muttered.

I winced every time the needle went through my skin. My barefoot tapped on the chilly wooden floor. She took another step closer to the table. “Fine,” I snapped. “Sit down then.” Finally, Josie did something I told her to do. She pulled out a chair and quietly sat down, still gripping her gun. “Put the gun on the table.” She shook her head.

Quinn was watching the exchange. I slammed my fist on the table and everything bounced up. Quinn jumped back with the needle in her hand, causing me to cringe.

“Fuck! Goddamn it! Put the fucking gun on the fucking table…
now
!” Josie slid the gun on the table. I saw the fear in her eyes. After all, she knew that I skewered Gage. Not that I would do the same to her. “Thank you.” I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled with a growl.

“I’m almost done. Good thing I’m such a brilliant seamstress and have a strong stomach.” She smiled at me. Bloody hell, she was beautiful. I tried to smile, but I was only able to nod.

Josie sat staring at the foreign object on the table. “It’s a tracking device,” I muttered with anger. The silence was heavy in the room. Quinn snipped the thread, then disinfected the area again. With a gentle touch, she wrapped a bandage around my forearm. “Thank you.” I breathed a sigh of relief, glad it was over.

Quinn pulled off the surgical gloves and handed me a bottle of water. “Here. Drink a little water. You need to eat something, as well.” She cleaned up the table, then went to the cabinets to get us some food.

She liked tidiness. Even though it wasn’t officially our home, she was glad we had found it abandoned and made the best of it. She opened the cabinet and we still had a stash of snack foods, along with tinned fruits, vegetables, and meats.

I nursed the bottle of water and glanced at Josie. She really wanted to know about the tracking device. It was written all over her face as she looked at the bloody thing. “Ask away.” Josie jumped when she heard me speak. She acted like I was in her head, listening to her thoughts. I sipped on the bottle of water, waiting for the inevitable. “Do we have any of that vodka left? Because I surely could use a shot or two of that right now.”

Quinn opened that cabinet door and pulled out the bottle with what looked like a small swallow in it. Major disappointment. She passed it over to me and when I opened it, I winced in pain. “That’s all we have left.”

“Hmm,” I mumbled just before I poured the rest of the vodka down my throat. When I set it down, I turned and looked at Josie, eyebrows raised, waiting for her questions.

“Uh…I don’t understand what…”

“Exactly,” I interrupted. “It’s a tracking device so my boss can track my every move.”

“Why?”

“Because he is a fucking arse, and I was a prat to follow his commands!”

I was feeling incredibly guilty, but I was also feeling torn. I had a job to do, but I was feeling closer and closer to Quinn and Josie. I didn’t want any harm coming to them. If anything did happen to them, I swear on my last breath that I would get my revenge.

Josie sat there, not knowing what to say. Quinn walked over to me and put her arm around my shoulders. Her warmth radiated through my body. It kind of startled me, but I liked it. Just hours before, she wasn’t speaking to me.

Josie must have been thinking that we had become closer than the rescuer and the rescued. I wish. I so fucking wished. I wanted to be her lover.

I was still confused as to whether or not my feelings for Quinn were real. I wanted to believe that they were. I
cried
in front of her. I would never do something so weak with anyone else. I hoped I could bed her soon.

It was ridiculous how much I was physically attracted to her. I dreamed about her on more than one occasion. My John Thomas would ache after those dreams, wanting and needing her attention. I need to pull my thoughts together.

“Look. I don’t really want to speak about this right now, so it can wait until later. I need time to sort out my thoughts.”

The room was full of tension. Thankfully, Josie decided to leave it as it was for the moment. “Well, I think I will go wash up,” she said as she stood up.

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Quinn smiled at her. “Oh, I washed out a few things for you last night after you laid down. They should be dry, hanging over the shower rod.”

“Thanks.” Josie blushed and headed back down the hall, leaving her gun behind.