Jesus, this was like a psycho TV show that was way worse than The Walking Fucking Dead.
I needed to get my shit together and find her. Make her understand that I was sorry, that I wouldn't hurt her, that I'd do anything to make it up to her. Force her to understand I'd never betray her trust and I wasn't the one to tell Adam about Mackenzie.
I walked away while the guys called out my name and begged me to return. When the door shut behind me, I knew it was symbolic. I was done. No matter what happened between Quinn and me, there'd be no more parties, or villas in Key West, or fake friends who didn't even know who I was. I needed to start over and find a life for myself that was real.
I knew she'd be at the hotel. It didn't take me long to walk there, but even though I had her name and room number, they wouldn't let me into the building without a keycard. The news reporters were jacked up for a sniff of Mac, and it was a shitstorm. After a good forty minutes of staking out the hotel, I did what I do best: took one of the back doors, pressed a crapload of money into the hotel guard's hands, and got through. The stairwell took me to her floor, and I thanked God I didn't have to try to get to the penthouse, which would be Mission Fucking Impossible.
I knocked on Quinn's door. I figured she may not answer, but I'd wait outside her door until she had to leave.
"Quinn." I knocked firmly. "It's me. Please open up. I need to talk to you."
The silence rolled on.
"Quinn. You deserve to know the whole truth before you get on that damn plane. I'll answer all your questions. Please."
Silence.
"I'm staying out here all night if I have to. I'll follow you to the airport, and won't leave your side until you give me a few minutes. Please."
The door swung open.
I stepped into the room and my heart lurched. Her beautiful eyes were swollen and red from crying. Tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks, and her clothes were wrinkled, like she'd just gotten out of bed. A tight burning squeezed my chest until I felt close to tears myself.
"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered. "I fucked up. I never meant to hurt you."
"I know." She shuddered and walked to the side table to grab a bottle of water. She took a few sips and finally met my gaze. "Tell me about the bet."
I stood before her, ashamed, and told her the whole truth. "I was knocked out when I first saw you. Sexually attracted and intrigued. The guys were acting stupid, saying it would be impossible to get you into bed, and offered me a bet. Get you into bed by Friday and get proof. I agreed, but you have to believe me, Quinn, I cared nothing about the bet. The moment I talked to you, the wager went out of my head. It was always about you and getting close to you. Midweek, the guys called and asked me, and I told them the bet was off."
"Did you tell them we slept together?" she asked. Her hands wrapped around her stomach like she was trying to support herself. All I wanted was to take her into my arms and comfort her, but I didn't move. She'd probably give me a right hook if I tried to touch her right now--and I deserved it.
"No. I told them we never slept together, because I couldn't handle the crudity. Trying to make it about sex when it was more. So much more."
She pondered my words, staring back at me. Hope leaped. She believed me. I could tell in her eyes, she was disappointed but on the verge of accepting my confession as truth. "What about my underwear?"
I winced. What a nightmare. "That had nothing to do with it. I was getting my wallet out, and one of the guys grabbed for it, and your thong slipped out of my pocket. Stupid mistake. Before I knew it, Adam grabbed it and began waving it around."
"And the paparazzi? Did you tell Adam?"
"No. I'd never tell your secrets. I never even mentioned Mac to Adam. He must've seen her around the island and made the move himself. Do you believe me?"
She spoke very softly. "Yes."
Hope pounded through me. "I'll do anything you want, Quinn. I just want you to forgive me."
I held my breath. Finally, a sad smile crossed her face. "I do, James. I forgive you."
I ached to close the distance between us but something else was wrong. She didn't seem happy, and suddenly, tears filled her eyes. "Baby, please don't cry. What can I do?"
I moved toward her, but she jumped back again, and shook her head hard.
"No, don't come near me. I have to get this out. The bet was stupid and juvenile, but I believe it didn't mean anything to you. But this is much more than that. What about Austin?"
I jerked back. "What about him? I admit, I lost it. Got jealous. Are you going to tell me who he is?"
"He's Mac's guy. Only saw him a few times, but I was trying to get a hold of her, so I left him a message to take to her. He warned me about the reporters, so that's why we were talking." I relaxed. Thank God. I was right; she'd never betray me. "But you didn't believe me, did you? You let your friends humiliate me in that bar without saying a word. You got cold and accused me of trying to have more fun."
Shame flowed through me. Fuck. What a mess. "I don't know what happened. I freaked, but I would've calmed down eventually. I just needed time to work it through."
"It's more than that, James." Her voice broke. "Don't you understand? You don't believe in us. How can you, when you can't even believe in you?"
"That's ridiculous, of course I believe in us."
"No. You're lost. You deny you're an artist, surround yourself with people who don't know who you really are, and go through life thinking it's enough. You'd always be worrying if I was about to go on to the next big thing. You don't trust me. Maybe because we didn't get enough time."
"Don't say that. I got deeper into you than I ever imagined I could, and it's more than your body." Frustration roiled in my gut. I paced the hotel room, needing something to do. "I trust you. You're putting ideas and words in my mouth. I want to try this--try a real committed relationship with you."
"You're not ready." She lifted her chin, and the tears disappeared. All I saw was a distant, faded image of the woman I loved; the woman who screamed in my arms as I pounded into her; the woman who looked at me with her heart in her eyes. "You need to make some decisions with your life and figure out what you want. You can't do that with me at your side."
The knowledge she was slipping away from me right before my eyes made me crazed. With three long strides, I grabbed her shoulders and leaned over. The heat was still there simmering, the sexual energy an immediate flare, and her eyes darkened in response to my touch. "Am I not good enough for you?" I ground out. "Is this what it's about? You don't want me hanging around Chicago, messing up your chances to find someone who's worthy?"
Her face softened, and I knew I'd lost. "No," she whispered. "But you don't believe you're good enough for me. I can't fight that. This isn't going to work, James."
"It will. We'll make it fucking work."
I slammed my mouth over hers. My tongue thrust between her lush lips, and I drank her deep and hard, bending her over so I could ravage and plummet every inch of her mouth. She moaned under the assault, and hung on, responding so sweetly and completely I softened the kiss and let the sensations rock through me. I stopped trying to control the kiss, and just let myself feel. And it hurt.
She tasted fruity from the cocktails, and her skin heated beneath me. I smelled her arousal, and knew I could easily slip my fingers under her skirt and bring her to orgasm with a few strokes. Then she'd forget. I could make her forget. "You need to go," she managed to get out between kisses. "Let go of me and leave."
I released her and stumbled back, breathing hard. "Don't do this," I ground out. "Please."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and tried to hide her shaking. "I have to. I'm going home Saturday. Figure out what you want. Who you are. I can't do it for you."
My heart twisted. "You're leaving me?"
She chewed her lower lip. "I have to."
I almost sank to my knees to beg her to stay. I'd do anything. But then I realized it was too late. In some distant
part of my brain, I also realized she was right.
I had nothing to offer. I didn't know what I was doing.
I needed to let her go.
"I love you, Quinn."
With my words echoing in the air, I left the hotel room.
Friday
I'D LOST him.
I stayed in my hotel room most of the day by myself. Cassie and Mac both stopped in to babysit me for a bit, but I shooed them away, wanting to be alone.
I stayed out by the balcony, wrapped my arms around my knees, and stared at the rollicking pool scene for hours. I ordered room service, packed, and got ready for the return trip. My phone remained silent. No message from James. No more knocking on my door.
He was gone, just like I had requested.
It was for the best, but my heart and soul didn't give a crap. I felt broken. How could five lousy days completely change my life? How would I ever get over him?
Day turned into night. Night turned into morning.
I got ready to get on the plane and go home.
I'D LOST her.
I stared at the empty bottles of liquor lining the tiki bar. I was already past drunk, but I needed desperately to pass out so I could sleep. Her face haunted me. The sound of her voice whispering my name burned my ears. The scent of her sweet, hot pussy tortured my sanity.
I thought about trying one more time, but already knew it was over. She needed a man who was whole, and I'd already proved I was a ghost. Would I ever figure it out? Would I finally have enough guts to get my shit together?
I didn't know. Just realized I was broken without her.