Burn (4 page)

I nod at him quietly, as I start to pack away the medical supplies I grabbed from my own apartment.

"Look, take the money; seriously.” He says, nodding at the bloody stack of bills sitting on his empty kitchen counter.

I choke out a small laugh; "Yeah, uh, no; thanks though."

"Why not?"

I look up at him, and he's got this cocky, devilish smirk on his face, his teeth shining white through the dark beard covering his chin. And for maybe the fifth time since finding him, theres something so familiar about him that strikes me in a funny way but that I just can't place.

"Because I don't want to know what happened to you tonight, but I also know a stab wound when I see one.”

The grin fades from his lips, and he nods at me; "Fair enough." He clears his throat; "It was a fight; a boxing match."

"I said I didn't want to know."

He laughs; "Yeah but you seem like the curious type."

"Oh, and you figured that out from the full two hours you've known me, half of which you were passed out?"
 

"I'm good at reading people."

I cross my arms over my chest, over the fresh tank-top I've changed into;  "A boxing match doesn't usually involve knives."

He grins and shrugs; "Some people are bad at losing."

"So you won?"

He nods at the kitchen counter; "That wad of cash I keep trying to get you to take is twenty five thousand dollars."

Holy shit.

I shake my head; "You know you could have
died
tonight if I hadn't found you, right? I mean why do this?"

“Eh, it’s just what I do I guess." He says, leaning back against his headboard. He winces for a second and I can see a red bloom at the bandage on his side.

"Shit, you're bleeding. Hang on, let me change that bandage again." I move towards the bed and sit on the edge as I bend down to examine him.
 

"So is that why you fight then? That money?" I nod my head at the kitchen counter.

He laughs dryly; "Not at all, actually."

"So why then?"

"Let me ask you this, Doc; why did you fix me up tonight?"

I give him a look; “Because its what I
do
, I'm a doct-"

"See?" He grins at me.

"Cute," I say dryly, a grin teasing the corners of my lips.

I look around the empty loft; "Look do you have  anything to eat here? You lost a lot of blood tonight, you should eat something.”

"I have no idea." He says with a nonchalant shrug.

I raise an eyebrow at him; "You don't
know
if you've got any food here?"

"I dunno, I might?"

"You do
live here
, right?"

"Uh, sort of." He says awkwardly.

"What's that mean?"

"I mean, yeah, I
sort of
live here. It’s sort of like my hideaway from life.“

I frown at him; "What are you, married or something?"

He barks out a laugh; "Uh, no, darlin; I'm not."

I find myself smiling at his drawled “darlin’ as I look away, and then I’m wondering why I feel such an immediate spark of excitement hearing that he isn’t married.

I turn back, and he’s slowly closing his eyes; “Hey,
hey!
” I snap in his face and pat his bristled cheek as he opens his eyes and grins at me; “You can’t fall asleep like this.”

“Aww, whats the matter, Doc, enjoying the conversation too much?” His grin is
just
charming enough to let the cockiness of the comment that would usually dig right under my skin just sort of roll off of me instead.

“No, I mean you probably have a concussion and I really
can’t
let you sleep.”

He nods, and his eyebrow arches suggestively; “Guess we should find a way to keep me up then.”

I’m still sitting right on the edge of his bed, right next to him, and I swallow heavily, my pulse hammering in my chest as I find myself biting my lip and locking eyes with him. There’s a spark there, something familiar, and yet something
wildly
strange, and for whatever reason, it’s drawing me in like a moth to flame.

There’s a final moment, right before my lips touch his - right before I let myself go and right before we both crash together - where I suddenly realize I don’t even know his name.

But of course by then, it’s almost better
not
knowing.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

No, no FUCKING way
. Taking the job with Archer Holdings was one thing, but there isn’t a snowball’s chance in
hell
that I’m going to work under Logan fucking Dempsey for the next three months; no fucking way at all.

Instantly, my mind goes to an entirely new place with the thought of being
under
Logan, and I blush at the dirty thoughts that quickly escalate in my head before I shake them away and scowl at him, as if this smug prick set this whole damn thing up from the start.

“
Yeah,
” Logan runs a hand through that perfect head of dark hair; “We should
probably
talk about this.”

He reaches out to put a hand on my arm but I yank it away from him; "Don't
touch
me," I hiss, mentally cursing my sister and the entire concept of a wedding with no booze.

“Will you fucking relax?" He says, brow furrowing.

"And don't
tell me
to re-"

"Well calm the fuck
down
then, instead.“ He growls, suddenly grabbing me by the arms and pushing me back against the wall. A tiny gasp drops from my lips and I blush bright pink as I realize that I'm instantly and horribly
turned on
by his rough touch. I can smell his aftershave, and the vague familiarity of it from
that night
invades my head in ways it really shouldn’t. His pressed dress shirt
 
is open at the collar, his bow-tie undone, and I can see the inked lines peeking out through the opening there from the tattoos that I know cover his chest and shoulders.
 

His perfect, chiseled, muscled chest and shoulders.

I shake my head again; I mean how the
hell
would I have ever guessed that the stranger from that night with a body made for sin would actually in fact be one of the wealthiest men in New York? Aren’t
billionaires
supposed to be eccentric old guys who live in board rooms? Since when do they have stab wounds, bruises, and heavy tattoos covering perfectly sculpted muscled bodies and a
huge
, thick - I blush, my thought trailing off as I think of the tool I know Logan’s packing between his legs.

“I am
not
working for you, you prick.” I spit out, willing myself to look as defiant as possible and hoping that it covers the flush of arousal blooming on my chest and face.

Logan arches a dark brow at me; “You’ve already signed the papers-”

“Then sue me.”

He rolls his eyes; “
And
we’re funding the research team you’re leaving behind at Mt. Sinai for five more years since they’re losing you for a few months;
fully
funding, Quinn.”

“So?” I spit out.
Great, yeah, fund the research team comprised of my dickhead ex and the skanky under-qualified blowjob queen whos taking my place. Perfect.
I’m being petulant and childish, and I
know
it, but I’m just too furious at the situation to get past that. I have
one Goddamn
one-night-stand
and fate serves me up Logan fucking Dempsey; my father’s military pal,
basically
my new brother-in-law, and oh, apparently also my new boss. I mean seriously, what fucking
horrible
karma am I paying off right now?

His strong hands on my arms are warm, and I snap out of my little pity-party as I suddenly think that they may just feel
too
good on my skin. I’m remembering the feel of those hands on
other
parts of me, but then I’m quickly shaking my head and pushing him away from me, like pushing away the last bite of desert even though you so desperately want a taste.

“
Fine
.” I say, still fuming and acting like a child.

Logan has an arrogant looking smirk on his face; “So that sounds like a big fat ‘maybe’.”

“Don’t get
cute
.” I mutter.

“Oh I thought I already was cute, which is why you just couldn’t resist me the other night.”

Is this fucking guy for real?

“It’s a
yes
,” I hiss out through clenched teeth; “But
watch it
.”

He chuckles like we’re having some sort of witty banter; like we’re just two old friends chumming around; "Well, we do need to talk about what happened." He says, his eyes flashing at me.

"
No
, we
don't
, actually.” I hiss back, bringing my hands up to rub my temples.
 

“So you’re fine working together with no problem?”

After I came on his tongue and after he fucked me better than I’ve ever been fucked in my entire life?

I swallow heavily, trying to calm my racing pulse and trying desperately to quell the heat throbbing between my legs at the feeling of this man so close to me, as arrogant and cocky and
totally forbidden
as he is. Fuck, there’s no way I can take this job.

“
Yes
, Logan. I can very happily forget everything about that night and live a very productive and content life.”

His eyes flash at me; "
Everything
that happened?" He smirks at me, and that glint in his eye brings a warm flush to my cheeks as I suddenly begin to remember things I shouldn't about that night. I'm remembering how his lips tasted, and how they
felt
as he kissed and nipped up the inside of my thigh-

Fuck
.
 

This
is going to be a problem. I shake my head quickly; “Yes
everything
, thank you very much."

He cocks an eyebrow at me, and when he smirks and leans closer to my face, I can feel my pulse skip a beat as the heat of him draws nearer; “Well, there are
some
aspects of that night I'm
quite
happy to remember," He winks salaciously at me, just in case I missed the innuendo; “But there are
also
some other things I'd rather- well, that I'd rather you kept to yourself."

I roll my eyes; "Logan, I will
not
be telling
anyone ever
about us sleeping-"

"I mean the fighting, Quinn." He says sharply.

"What about it?"

"I mean no one can know about that."

I laugh; "Are you serious? Logan, have you seen your face today?" He’s still sporting a black eye and the hint of a bruise on his lip, which has this terrible side-effect of also making that mouth even more attractive to me right now.

He sighs heavily and turns to look away as he shakes his head.

"No, honestly; do you think everyone here is totally blind?" I nod at the boxing glove tattoo peeking out of his rolled-up sleeve; "Seriously, it's not like you make it a secret you know."

This time
he
rolls his eyes, and the gesture is both infuriating and disturbingly sexy on him; "
Obviously
they know I box, Quinn. It's just that they don't know about the
kind
of boxing I do.”