Broken At Love (Whitman University) (22 page)

“Bitch,” he gasped, rolling off to the side. “You little fucking tease.”

I sat up, breathing hard and tugging my dress back into place while I got off the bed. Tears still streamed down my face, only partly brought on by fear. The rest was a soul-deep, wrenching loss as I thought about Quinn upstairs doing what I hadn’t been able to, his hands roaming the perfect blonde’s body. A sob tore loose. I had to get out of here.

I threw open the bedroom door and smacked into Quinn.

***

His hands went around my face, tilting it up so he could look into my eyes. Nothing but white-hot fury flashed in his bright blue gaze as he took in my tear-streaked face and mussed hair. Those murderous eyes traveled to the bed, where Hunter still held his crotch and whimpered.

“Are you okay?” He asked the question through clenched teeth, eyes not leaving his injured frat brother.

“I’m fine,” I replied quietly. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, I can see that. Ever the little surprise.” He let me go and stalked to the edge of the bed, staring down at Hunter with undisguised hatred.

“I thought you were done with the bitch, Quinn, I swear. And she’s got such a sweet little body and she fucking wanted it too, man, practically dragged me back here to fuck, but then she freaked out, she just…froze up.” The words tumbled out in rush, naked fear in Hunter’s eyes as he begged Quinn to understand.

“If I were you I would stop fucking talking.”

“C’mon, man, share a little pussy with the rest of us. She was a stupid bet and you won. Does that mean no one else gets inside that?”

Quinn leaned down slowly, pressing a hand against Hunter’s throat until the words choked off. Hunter’s eyes went wide, sweat sticking his brown curls to his forehead as he wriggled desperately under Quinn’s grasp. “I said shut. The fuck. Up.”

A chill zipped across my skin at the cold fury surrounding Quinn. The height of his anger displayed with absolute calm; it terrified me and thrilled me at the same time.

Hunter’s face turned red in the thick silence. The room throbbed with malice as his face turned purple.

“Um, Quinn,” I said softly.

“I’m not going to kill him,” he replied, leaning down until his face was close enough to Hunter’s to kiss. “I’m not going to kill you. But there are a couple of things you should know, while I have your attention. First of all, no one makes any girl do something she doesn’t want to do in my house.
Any
girl. If I ever hear that you’ve forced your tiny little pecker on someone without her explicit, sober consent, I will cut your fucking balls off.”

Quinn’s eyes flicked to me, then back to Hunter, but in that moment fierce protectiveness leapt off him and surrounded me like a force field. It sucked the air from my lungs. No one had ever made me feel completely cared for from across a room. Like as long as he loved me—if he did—nothing could ever hurt.

“And if you ever
touch this
particular
girl again—or think about her inappropriately or look at her sideways in passing—I will end your goddamn miserable life. Are we clear?”

Hunter managed to nod. When Quinn released him Hunter rubbed his throat with one hand and kept the other around his nuts. I thought that was it, but then Quinn’s fist smashed downward in a blur of movement, turning Hunter’s nose into a sickening crunch and wash of blood.

“Christ, man, I said okay! What the fuck was that for?” Hunter didn’t have enough hands to cover all his injured body parts, but I didn’t feel sorry for him at all.

“That was for your disgusting, invasive, sexist remarks. You’re lucky it’s not worse.”

Quinn’s hand slid around mine, grasping harder than necessary. He dragged me down the dark hallway so fast my shorter legs broke into a trot to keep up, then into the garage and out a side door that dumped us onto the beach.

The warm, sticky summer night surrounded us. A gentle breeze kissed my overheated cheeks as he propelled me toward the water until we were out of hearing distance and bathed in shadows. As private as a couple could get at one of these massive parties.

“I do not want to know any details about what happened in that room, because if I hear them I will go back in there and renege on not killing him.” Quinn picked up my other hand, squeezing hard and searching my face for answers. “But are you all right? Really? Did he hurt you, Emilie?”

His voice broke over my name and tears welled back up in my eyes. I nodded. Now that the whole situation was over, the fear that my adrenaline had held at bay crashed over me. I let go of Quinn’s hands and grabbed onto his waist. Strong arms encircled me, held me tight in silence for several minutes. His fingers worked the pins loose from my hair until it tumbled down over my shoulders. It felt good, like an extra layer of protection and warmth. I pulled away when the tide of belated fright finally receded.

“Here.” He offered me the untucked bottom of his shirt. When I didn’t move he raised the cloth to my face and dried the rivers of tears.

His eyes landed on my lips and lingered so I took a step back, remembering Ruby’s words. No sex. And kissing was a gateway drug the way Quinn did it.

“I had it under control in there,” I clung to indignation because it was easier to handle than the memory of Quinn playing Sebastian’s game with the nameless blonde.

“I know.”

The pride in his voice warmed me. The veil dropping back over his gaze sliced painfully, though, and the push and pull of being with Quinn made me want to drop into the sand and sleep.

“What are you doing here?”

“You sent me an invitation. Stupid of me, really, but I assumed that meant you wanted to see me. That you’d changed your mind.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw. “I didn’t invite you.”

“Then who…Sebastian?” I looked to Quinn for confirmation.

He gave me a tight nod, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He’s not convinced things are over between us, must have figured being here would fix that. He doesn’t like you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

I watched as rigidity flowed out of his muscles. His eyes roamed my body but not in a sexual way—this was protective, the way he looked at me back in the room. Still checking for bumps and bruises. But aside from my abused boobs, the only pain was inside.

And Hunter hadn’t inflicted it. Quinn did it himself.

“You look beautiful.” The compliment emerged in a hoarse voice. “I saw…when I saw you take off with Hunter something snapped inside me. He’s got a reputation for enjoying things a little…rough. I couldn’t stand the thought of him putting his hands on you at all, never mind hurting you in the process.”

Quinn’s words made my head swim. He wanted me to be safe. He didn’t want anyone to touch me besides him. A thrill of desire shot through me, heating my skin.

He stepped forward, settling a hand on my waist. “The idea that anyone would mar your gorgeous body made me frantic. I want it just the way it is.”

Breath caught in my chest as he pressed his lips to mine. It was sweet and gentle, possessive as he deepened it slowly. His tongue stroked mine while his hands held me loosely against him with a reverence that could only be born of love.

He wanted me to be his, and I was. There was no denying it.

Then a picture of the laughing blonde in her see-through dress, holding Quinn’s hand on the way up the spiral staircase, shoved into my mind. Cold horror sped through me. Desire flickered out and I pushed him gently away, needing space from the musky scent of his need. “What would have happened tonight if I hadn’t come to the party?”

Shame flooded his blue eyes but he hid it quickly with a smirk. “What always happens at my parties.”

“So you would have taken Bambi up to your room and let her pick out some clothes, then convinced her you weren’t the bad boy everyone makes you out to be, and seduced her.”

“Her name is Alison. One ‘l’.”

“Do you seriously think I want to know what her name is right now?” He didn’t respond. “Why is it okay for you to screw whoever you want—or whoever Sebastian tells you to—but I’m only for you? Why is that fair?”

He sighed. It sounded defeated and tired. Like he’d played a six-hour, five-set match with twenty deuces a game. “It’s not. Fair.”

“You’re damn right, Quinn.” I took a deep breath, terrified to put myself out there again, but it was what I came here to do. “I love you. I want to be with you.
You.
No one else. This thing between us is not going away. But it’s not going to work like this. You’re in, or I’m out.”

The sound of the ocean swishing against the beach was my only response.

Tears clogged my throat. I stepped forward, deciding to try one more tactic—to play this game Quinn’s way. My hand slid up his chest until it settled over his heart. I kissed his neck until his pulse pounded under my lips and when I pulled back, desire and love—I knew it was love—shone in his vibrant cobalt gaze.

I pushed up on my tiptoes until our lips were a few centimeters from touching. “I know you love me, too. You told Ruby. You said enough to scare Sebastian, so he knows, too. Tell me. We can figure out the rest.”

We stayed that way for endless moments, lips trembling with the effort of not connecting, breath mingling with the salt of the ocean and the stickiness of the night. His electric eyes stared down into my black ones and we became my painting. The one inspired by the undeniable magnetism that alternately drew Quinn to my side and pushed him away.

After a while, his hands slid up my arms and gently set me away. The resignation in his face draped over his entire body, fell into my heart and cracked it into pieces. Tears flowed unchecked, and this time Quinn didn’t dry them. He looked ill, so pale he might be sick onto the sand any moment, and took another step back.

I was losing him. Again, he was choosing his fear over me.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, Emilie.”

“It does to me.” I hated the sobs climbing past my lips with the words, but it couldn’t be helped. I felt as though I was watching the scene unfold, that it happened to someone else.

“It doesn’t matter because you deserve better. Better than a man whose life is in shambles. A washed up pro athlete with such a horrible self-esteem problem he couldn’t handle being dumped by a girl he didn’t even care about.” He looked away, out to sea, and I felt him slip farther away with the tide.

When his gaze returned to mine the pain and regret squeezed the remnants of my heart into dust. I wanted to turn away but I couldn’t.

“I’m going to tell my father about Sebastian’s blackmail. You’re right—living like this is no kind of life, and even if it means giving up the chance of convincing my father to take me on, I can’t live knowing that you think I’m a coward. I’ll never be good enough for you, but you make me want to get my head out of my ass and be better.”

The admission danced on the wind. It threaded through my hair and wound into my blood. Pride that he would move on from this mess with Sebastian warred with spiking irritation, but eventually the latter won out.

“It’s my choice who I love, Quinn. You don’t get to decide for both of us how this ends.”

“Yes, I do. You have nothing to regret. When you look back on tonight, I promise one day you’ll be relieved to be rid of a guy like me.”

He stepped forward and brushed a kiss over my cheekbone, his lips pressing against tears that I feared would never stop.

“You’ve been drinking. My car will take you home whenever you’re ready.”

Quinn Rowland turned and went back up the path to the house. He left me alone and devastated, torn apart and rejected. It made it worse to know he loved me too, to know how close we stood to something beautiful only to have him toss it—me—aside like trash. For all his pretty words it was still how he made me feel. Discarded.

I sat in the sand and cried. Every time I thought I was done, more sorrow bubbled up and spilled over, throbbing in my throat. The memory of every touch, every look, every argument and moment of ecstasy paraded in my mind. I would never have it again. Not with Quinn. Maybe not with anyone else, either.

My sobs settled into hitched gasps and finally a few hiccups. The remnants blurred my vision and drove exhaustion into my brain, dragging my eyelids toward my cheeks. Right before I gave in and lay right down on the beach to sleep the pain away, an idea popped into my mind.

If Quinn didn’t want to be with me because of some damn noble desire to be good enough, maybe I could help him. Sebastian was the obstacle—him and those stupid photographs. If they didn’t exist, then Quinn wouldn’t have to play any more games, and he could go about proving his worth to his father or shareholders of his own without any secrets ready to pop out of the closet.

Maybe if I got rid of Sebastian, the last roadblock between Quinn and his ability to share his feelings with me without fear would be removed forever.

It took a while to convince myself that I could do what I intended, to work out the logistics in my mind. By that time the tears had disappeared, replaced once again by a hope that turned out to be less fragile than I thought.

I wiped my face with the hem of my dress and made myself a promise. I would not tell Quinn how I felt again. Whatever happened with Sebastian, it would be for Quinn. So he could be happy, with or without me. For the next couple of hours, I would be his friend.

What he decided to do with the results was up to him.

Once I felt presentable and back in control, my feet steered me toward the house. Hours had passed and the party had died down. Plenty of students milled about on the deck and were sprawled on the furniture in the living room, and I’m sure more had taken to the bedrooms. But the music thrummed quieter and the conversations were soft as people drifted toward sleep.

Sebastian sat alone at the deck bar, talking to the bartender and sipping a drink. I slid onto the stool next to him and gave him a smile. “I’ll have a whiskey.”

He obliged, then quirked an eyebrow in my direction. “I see you received my invitation.”

“Obviously.”

“I didn’t realize you were still here.”