“You make me feel beautiful.”
“You are,” he replies, leaning in to press a kiss where my thigh meets my center. “You have a freckle right here.”
“No, I don’t.”
He chuckles. “I’m looking at it, baby. You do. But not many anywhere else.”
“Redhead without freckles,” I agree and suck in a breath when he skims the tip of his tongue over the top of my shaved pussy. “God, Quinn.”
“Mm, love hearing my name like that.”
I lean back on my elbows, unwilling to take my eyes off what he’s doing down south. His hands are gentle. His mouth tender.
And my body is on fire.
He props my leg over his shoulder, and dives in for a long, deep kiss, and I’m lost under his spell. My back arches, and I’m pretty sure my whole body just exploded into a million twinkling lights.
When the world rushes back to me, Quinn is standing, unzipping his shorts, rolling on a condom, and pressing into me.
“Like a bloody vise,” he growls, his jaw clenched shut. He buries his face in my neck and rides me like his life depends on it.
But he’s not fucking me. No, we’ve done that before, and this isn’t the same. It’s not as hurried, as trivial.
Quinn is moving like he can’t not claim me, and it’s the most intoxicating sex I’ve ever had.
It’s almost loving.
And God, I hope that’s not just wishful thinking on my part, because I’ve fallen for this man, hook, line and sinker.
He links his fingers through mine and kisses my hand, then tucks our hands next to our bodies as he leans in, presses his lips to my mouth, and loses control spectacularly.
“You should stay with me,” Quinn says an hour later, after we’ve cleaned ourselves and the studio, and we’re back to painting.
“Where?”
“At my condo,” he says simply, loading his brush and watching me carefully as I fill in a building with dark gray.
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to be working in Manhattan a lot over the next two weeks, and it’ll be more convenient for you if you’re nearby.”
“Hmm.” I nibble on the end of my brush, checking out my work, and thinking about Quinn’s offer. Do I want to stay with him?
Duh. Of course I do. I love sleeping next to him, I love being with him.
“I don’t know if that’s a great idea.”
“Why?” he asks calmly. It’s like we’re talking about where we want to eat for dinner, or the weather.
“Because we’re working together, and if one of the law clerks found out—”
“Unless you tell them, they’re not going to find out,” he says. “I don’t make it a habit to tell my employees about my personal relationships.”
“Good point,” I concede and clean my brush off. “I guess I’d better pack a bag.”
His head whips over in surprise. “Really?”
“You were expecting more of a fight?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I can give you one.”
“No.” He sets his brush down and takes my hand, practically pulling me down to my bedroom. “No, let’s pack you a bag.”
“Listen up,” Quinn says Monday morning. We’re in the larger of the conference rooms, with all the boxes lined against one wall, and the opposite wall empty for boxes as we finish going through them. “Sienna Hendricks is the opposing counsel on this case, and the owner of all these files. We have the same goal in mind: to find the truth. This case is different because it’s a hundred years old. It’s not a matter of a Google search, or looking through a computer for the files. We have to look by hand.
“Time is ticking, and that’s why we’ve decided to move the operation here. With your help, this should go much faster. But Sienna’s in charge.”
“She’s not a partner here,” one of the clerks points out, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not comfortable taking orders from opposing counsel.”
“Then you’re welcome to go,” Quinn says, pointing to the door.
“Great, I’ll go back to my office.”
“No, get your shit and leave. You’re fired. This isn’t up for discussion.”
The man stares at Quinn in shock, then shrugs and stomps out.
“Does anyone else have an issue with this?” Quinn asks. The four remaining clerks all shake their heads.
“Tim’s an idiot,” a blond woman says, shaking her head. “This is fascinating.”
“I agree,” I reply with a smile and smooth my hands down my red suit. “My rules are actually very simple. I don’t want you working on this if I’m not here. Like Quinn said, these are my family’s personal files. However, I will be here all day, every day. This is my only priority until we wrap up the case.”
“I’ll be in and out,” Quinn says, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s staring at me from across the room, and I swear, the sexual chemistry is so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
How can the others not feel it?