'Yes,' he said, and got up, too, and went back to the couch. She watched him stretch out, then softly cleared the little table and went to make the coffee. He had his eyes shut again when she came back with the tray. She would have quietly crept out once more if he hadn't opened his eyes and looked at her again.
That smile was back. 'I always feel you there,' he said. 'Isn't that odd? You're so quiet, but I can feel you if you're in the same room.' He shut his eyes again in that abrupt way and Quincy put down the tray and sat on the couch to pour the coffee. She had the feeling Joe was still not quite aware of what he was saying or doing. His mind was totally blown, he was in a state of nervous collapse after the tension of the concerts.
Turning to see if he was awake enough to drink his coffee, she found him watching her with half-raised lids, the gleaming jet of his eyes showing through his lashes.
He lazily put out a hand and pulled her down towards him. Quincy let herself curl against his body, her mouth dry as Joe tipped up her chin and began to kiss her softly.
She did not feel she was in any danger from Joe tonight—he was far too tired. That was why he was here, why he had come to her—he was in desperate need of a female presence which would comfort, not demand, which would give, not take.
Her lips parted, a curious trembling beginning deep inside her, her hand lifting to his windswept black hair, stroking it back from his face, her fingers combing through it and shaping the modelling of his skull beneath. Joe murmured huskily, his hand at her waist, and slid sideways, drawing her with him so that they lay on the couch entwined, their bodies warm and close. His kiss deepened without force, the movements of his mouth hungry, as though her warmth flowed into him and renewed him, her life force recharging his.
Her arm around his neck, her thighs tangled with his, she felt his heart beating slowly and heavily against her own, but there was still no threat in their embrace.
Even while he kissed her and his hand moved softly over her he seemed on the verge of sleep, the gentle movements of their mouths soothing him, his body entirely relaxed.
She was so much at ease that her body jerked with shock as Joe's fingers moved inside her robe to rind the warm, naked flesh beneath.
'No!' she broke out with a gasp, but his mouth silenced the little cry, gently caressing her lips to prevent them from denying him that access to her. She put a hand up to his shoulder to thrust him away, and he caught it and twined his fingers with hers, clasping her hand against his softly breathing chest.
Quincy felt the languid exploration of his other hand with an explosive awareness, her nerves on fire throughout her whole body, her nipples hardening as his fingertips brushed over them, her white flesh swelling as his palm cupped it and made her skin ache with the heated blood beneath.
He would not release her mouth, coaxing her lips, playing with them, his tongue tip flicking softly and making her tremble, faint moans of pleasure breathed into his mouth. She had forgotten everything but the intense sensuality of his lovemaking, led blindfold, step by step, into a trap she had not suspected, her caution abandoned in what she imagined to be his extreme exhaustion. He had deftly undone his own shirt while he held her hand against him, and laid her fingers on his warm, bare chest before curving his free hand around the back of her head, his fingers gripping her hair, holding her captive while he kissed her with a growing passion.
'I need you,' he breathed huskily, and a pulse beat like a cruel drum deep inside her, the aroused ache of desire taking her over and holding her helpless in his arms.
'I can't,' she whispered, trying to break free, raising herself desperately.
'Quincy,' he muttered, his eyes open now, staring up at her flushed, disturbed face.
'Don't!' She hardly knew what she was begging him not to do—he was using no force now, he was only gazing at her with dark eyes filled with a need echoed inside herself, his whole face taut with the same desire which was throbbing inside her.
He had undone her belt and the white towelling robe had fallen open, leaving her naked body visible. Joe's gaze travelled slowly, hungrily, over the smooth curve of it from breast to waist, from slim rounded hips to the pale thighs, and Quincy's face burned under the impact of that desiring stare, feeling his eyes imprinted on her naked skin like fiery branding marks.
'If you wanted a woman, why didn't you take one of those who throw themselves at you?' she burst out hoarsely. 'I'm not on offer!'
She scrambled up and Joe made no attempt to detain her, letting her go, his hand limply falling back.
She turned and stood with her back to him. 'You'd better go,' she muttered.
She heard the slow, stiff movement as he forced himself to get up. He did not go, however. He stood there, giving a heavy sigh.
'I'm sorry, Quincy
. I had no right…'
'No, you hadn't!' she interrupted angrily.
'I didn't come here with that in mind,' he said wearily. 'That wasn't my intention. I just didn't think at all. I needed some safe place to be, some comfort. I miss my family when I'm on tour. I was driven by instinct, I was acting blind. I'm sorry.'
She was silent, then, her belt tied tightly again, her head bent, the light soft curls tumbled forward, leaving her nape bare.
'What have you done to your beautiful hair?' Joe asked, as if he had just noticed the change in her appearance. 'Why have you cut it off? It was lovely just the way it was.'
'Carmen took me to a beauty parlour,' Quincy started, and heard him swear softly.
'Why did you let her change you?' he almost accused.
'It seemed to be part of the deal,' Quincy explained. 'You're all set on your own way, you never ask, just try to make everyone give in to you.'