“Red—God, why can’t I resist you?”
His eyes roamed over her face, looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. And Cal knew that, even if it was just temporary, their friendship had retreated to make room for a blazing love affair.
It might only last the night or it might be strong enough to withstand the passage of time. No matter how long it lasted, she would enjoy him, as much as she could.
“I need you. I need to love you right here, right now, in the dark, in the cold night air,” Quinn told her, his hands reaching for the belt that held her rich purple wraparound jersey together. His hands pulled the fabric apart and he skimmed her torso, cupped her breasts while his tongue invaded her mouth, sliding against hers in a dance that was as exciting as it had been the first time he kissed her on the terrace at the masked ball.
“You taste so good.” He broke the contact with her mouth to murmur the words.
Cal moaned and her hands slid over his chest, down his waist to grip his hips. He hadn’t bothered with a coat so she had easy access to the buttons on his shirt and she went to work on them. She soon felt the contrast of the chilly night air and his superhot skin. Cal felt his hand under the cup of her bra and she shivered, excitement skittering over her. These were hands that knew her, knew what she liked, knew how to touch her.
Quinn pushed Cal’s shirt down and off her arms and he groaned when he pulled his head back to look at her lacy bra barely covering her creamy breasts. He dropped his head to pull her nipple into his mouth, tasting her through the barrier of the lace. Cal linked both arms around his head and held him to her. She needed this, needed him to need her, to crave her. She felt powerful and feminine, confident and sexy. Strong.
God, she felt strong.
Quinn’s hands dropped to her stomach, fumbling as he tried to open the buttons on her jeans. He cursed, sounding uncharacteristically impatient. “I need you. I need to be inside you, loving you.”
Quinn groaned, his mouth on hers as he pushed her jeans and thong down her legs. She kicked the garments off and moaned when his fingers stroked her with exquisite care. “So hot, so warm. Mine.”
God, she was. His, only his.
Cal snapped open the button to his jeans, tugged down his fly and Quinn sighed when her hand found him, long, strong and so hard. She couldn’t wait, couldn’t cope with his drive-her-crazy foreplay tonight. She just wanted him inside her. Completing her.
Quinn shucked his clothes and pushed her down onto the ottoman. With his hands on her thighs, he gently pushed her legs apart. He leaned over her, his expression hot and hard and intense and, with a lot of passion and little finesse, he entered her with one long, fluid, desperate stroke. She was wet and ready for him. He stopped for a moment, his arms straight out as he hovered above her, her astonishment at how in sync they were reflected in his eyes. He was rock-hard and ready and she was very, very willing.
She could feel every luscious inch of him, skin on skin, her wet warmth coating him, his head nudging her womb. He felt amazing and... God!
“Quinn!” Cal smacked his shoulder with her fist and he pulled his head back to look down into her face.
“What? What’s wrong?” he demanded, his voice hoarse with need.
“Condom! You’re not wearing one.”
Quinn pushed himself up on his hands to hover over her. She really didn’t want him to pull out. She loved the intimacy of making love to him without a barrier. It felt real...
“I’m clean and I’m—” he choked on the words “—you know...a genetic dead end.” He supported himself on one hand and she saw the muscles in his shoulders and biceps bunch as he lifted his thumb to caress her cheekbone. “If I have to run downstairs for a condom, I will, crying all the way. But I’ve always used a condom and I was tested last month. I’m clean, there’s no chance of you falling pregnant and I just want to make love to you, feel every inch of you, with no barriers between us. Because, God, you feel amazing.”
She clenched her internal muscles, involuntarily responding to the emotional plea beneath his words. His jaw was rigid and she could see he was using every speck of willpower he had to stop himself from plunging into her.
“Okay, yes,” Cal said and her hands flew over his ribs, down his hips and over his butt, pulling him deeper into her. “Move, Quinn, I need you.”
“Not as much as I need you, baby,” Quinn growled as he forced himself to keep the pace slow. Cal whimpered with need, slammed her hips up, driving him deeper inside.
“Harder, deeper, faster,” Cal chanted.
Quinn had no problem obeying that particular order and he pistoned into her, his hand under her hips to tilt her pelvis up so she could take him deeper. She suspected he was a knife’s edge away from losing it and she wanted him sharing this with her.
Cal lifted her hands between their bodies to hold his face. She stared into his eyes, blue clashing with green, and smiled. “Let’s fly together, Quinn.”
Quinn nodded. “Now?”
“Now.”
Cal let herself dissolve around Quinn, her body shaking with her intense orgasm. Love, hot and powerful, roared through her as Quinn groaned and threw his head back. She felt him come deep inside her.
His, Cal decided. Only his.
* * *
Cal rolled over and, not finding Quinn, put her hand out to pat his side of the bed. Frowning, she opened her eyes. Hearing the sound of water running, she looked at the closed bathroom door. Cal sat up, grateful for a moment alone, a little time to think.
Last night she suspected that she might be in love with Quinn. In the cold light of morning she knew it to be true. She’d fallen head over heels in love with her oldest friend.
Idiot.
Had she really been stupid enough to think he was a safe bet, to think she’d be immune to his charm, his quirky sense of humor, to that luscious body and to-hell-with-you attitude? He was the least safe person in the world to love. Yet here she was, feeling all those crazy emotions she’d swore she’d never feel again. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking of him in terms of commitment and forever. Quinn didn’t do commitment and he had no concept of forever. He married her because he needed an out, a way to mend some fences. He married her because he trusted her to not make waves, to not make demands on him that he wouldn’t be able to meet.
Quinn wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t need him to be. He was perfect for her. He was strong enough to allow her to be strong. They argued, but he didn’t overpower her. He didn’t force his opinion on her. He trusted her to be the best version of herself, was strong enough to deal with the broken bits of her, adult enough to know that everyone had their quirks.
He knew her, flaws and all. Better than that, he accepted her, flaws and all.
For that reason, and a million others, she loved him. In a soul-mates, be-mine-forever way.
The way he’d made love to her last night, both on the deck and later in this bed—the way he’d held her like she was precious and perfect—gave her hope. She felt excitement bubble and pop in her stomach. Maybe they had a shot...
“You’re looking a bit dopey, Red.”
Cal jerked her head up. Quinn’s shoulder pressed into the door frame and a white towel around his hips was a perfect contrast to his tanned skin. He looked as gorgeous as ever—and as remote as the International Space Station. Unlike her, Quinn wasn’t having a warm and fuzzy, I-love-you moment.
“Hi.”
Quinn lifted an inquiring eyebrow. “What’s up?” he asked, stalking into the room. “You have your thinking face on.”
Damn, he knew her so well.
“You might as well spit it out, Red. You know you want to.”
She did. She wanted to tell him how she felt, wanted to admit to him—and to herself—that she wanted a real marriage between them, something that would see them through to the end of their lives. She wanted to be the brave, strong, confident woman she’d worked hard to be and ask him if he felt the same, ask him whether he could love her like she needed to be loved.
Cal wrapped her arms around her knees, biting down on her bottom lip. “I could tell you, but I don’t know if you want to hear what I have to say.”
Quinn’s eyes hardened and turned bleak. “Are you going to tell me something else about Carter that I won’t like?”
“No. I told you about the abuse and the inheritance and that’s it,” Cal replied.
“Then what is it?” Quinn asked, looking at his watch. “And, sorry, I don’t mean to rush you, but I need to get to headquarters for a strategy meeting with Mac and Kade.”
She couldn’t just blurt this out on the fly. They needed time to talk about it. Cal blew air into her cheeks. “Leave it. We can talk later.”
Quinn gripped the bridge of his nose, obviously frustrated. “Cal, just say it.”
Well, okay then. Cal kept her eyes on his as she spoke her truth, her voice shaking. “I’m in love with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want this marriage. I want you.”
Happiness flared in his eyes but quickly died as confusion and fear stomped over that fragile emotion. Quinn rubbed his hand over his jaw and then moved it to rub the back of his neck. “God, Cal. That was not what I expected to hear.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say...”
Cal pushed her curls off her face. “It’s not about what I want you to say, Quinn. I’d just like to know if you think it’s a possibility...whether you might, someday, feel the same.”
Quinn disappeared into his walk-in closet and when he reappeared five minutes later, he was dressed in track pants and a Mavericks hoodie. He carried his shoes to the bed, sat down on the edge and slowly pulled on his socks.
Cal waited for him to speak and when he did, his words were precise and deliberate. “I think this is all going a bit fast. Last night was emotional and I realize that talking about Carter was difficult for you. The floodgates opened and you released a lot of feelings and I think you might be confusing that release with love. Could that be possible?”
Cal considered his words. Nope, she decided. She was definitely in love with him. “Sorry, that’s not it.”
Quinn bent over and stared at his sneakers before tying the laces. “The sex between us is amazing, Red, and we’re good friends. That doesn’t mean we are in love.” Quinn sat up and looked at her, his expression determined. “If this is happening, then we need to take a step back, figure out what the hell we’re doing before we make plans and promises that will blow up in our faces.”
Cal nodded, conscious of the slow bruise forming on her heart. “You still haven’t told me if you love me or not.”
Quinn stood up and slapped his hands on his hips. He didn’t speak and when Cal finally looked up, she saw fear and confusion in his eyes. “I don’t know, Cal. I don’t know what I feel. This—you—it’s all a bit too much.” He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Let’s think about this, step away from the emotion and consider what we’re doing. What we’re risking.”
Cal clearly heard what he wanted to say but couldn’t because he didn’t want to hurt her: What you’re doing, what you’re risking.
He was giving her an out, a way to go back to sex without the messy complication of love.
Quinn picked up his wallet and cell phone and jammed them into the pockets of his hoodie. “I have a...thing...this evening. You?”
Cal lifted her chin, knowing damn well he didn’t have plans since they’d discussed seeing a movie tonight. But her pride wouldn’t let him see her disappointment, wouldn’t permit her to ask for anything more. “I have a thing too.”
Quinn nodded and walked to the side of the bed. Cal kept her face tipped, waiting for his customary see-you-later, open-mouth kiss, but he kissed the top of her head instead.
It was the age-old, you’re-looking-for-more-than-I-can-give-you brush-off.
Message received, Quinn. Message received.
* * *
A week passed and Cal wasn’t sure why she was at the Mavericks arena midmorning, especially since she had work piling up on her desk back at the foundation. If pressed, she supposed she could say she’d come to talk to Quinn about their upcoming schedules, whether he could attend a theater production with her later in the month. There were a dozen questions she could ask, but nothing that couldn’t be resolved during a two-minute phone call or later that day when they touched base back at home...
Home. It might be a good idea if she stopped thinking of the yacht in those terms.
Coming to the arena had been an impulsive decision but one that was rooted in her need to see Quinn. She wanted to talk him into having lunch with her, to try and push past the barrier her impulsive declaration of love had created between them a week ago. They were still living together, still sleeping in the same bed, still making love. But they weren’t communicating. They were two people who were sharing his space and their bodies and nothing else. She didn’t think she could live like this for much longer. She was back in purgatory, except this time they were lovers but not friends. She felt angry and sad and, yes, disappointed.
They were acting exactly how they’d said they never would and they were hurting each other. They needed to break this impasse. One of them had to be brave enough to walk away before they destroyed their friendship. She’d raised the subject of love; she’d changed the parameters of their marriage by uttering the L word so it was her responsibility to fix what was broken.
While she waited for Quinn to call an end to the practice session, she thought how much she loved to watch him skate. Cal propped her feet up onto the boards that lined the rink. He was poetry in motion, at home on the ice just as he was on land. Dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with a sleeveless jacket over his broad chest, he looked bold and determined.
And utterly in charge.
His players took his direction easily and quickly and, while they respected him, they certainly weren’t scared of him. It was obvious they gave him a thousand percent all the time. You didn’t work that hard for someone unless you were inspired to do so.
He pulled no punches. No one was spared his praise or his sharp tongue. Even Mac, his partner, was treated exactly the same as the rest of the players. On the ice there was only one boss and Quinn was it. That amount of intensity, that power was...well, it made her panties heat up.
Cal, digging into a bag of chips, looked up when she heard the click-clack of heels. She smiled at Wren, who was making her way to her seat in the first row back from the rink. On the ice, Quinn was barking orders to his squad, short blond hair glinting in the overhead lights.
“I heard you were here,” Wren said, bending down to kiss her cheek before dunking her hand in the bag of chips.
“Sneaky thief,” Cal muttered as Wren settled into the chair next to her.
“You can’t eat a mega-sized bag of chips by yourself. You’ll get fat,” Wren told her. “I’m just being a good friend, helping you out.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cal replied and placed the bag between them. She nodded to the thick envelope on Wren’s knees. “And that?”
Wren patted the envelope and popped another chip in her mouth. After swallowing, she passed the envelope to Cal and smiled. “That, my darling, is the measure of our success. You actually did it.”
“Did what?” Cal asked, opening the envelope and pulling out a sheaf of papers.
“The rehabilitation of Rayne. Those are the photocopies of every article mentioning you or Quinn over the past month and every single one is positive. Quinn is redeemed. By the love of a good woman.”
Cal started flipping through the papers, stopping now and again to read a headline, to look at a photograph. There was one of them kissing outside the coffee shop close to her office, another of them in Stanley Park at the picnic, walking hand in hand and laughing. Old Friends, New Lovers read one headline. Are Quinn and Cal Vancouver’s Most Romantic Couple? Is It True Love?
“The Mavericks brand is stronger than ever and trust in Quinn, as a person and as a coach, has been restored. Instead of baying for his blood, the press is now baying for babies.” Wren’s hand dipped into the bag again and she stood. “I’ll leave you to take a look through those. Thanks, Cal. I could never have whipped him into shape on my own.”
Baying for babies? Cal felt her heart tighten. That was never going to happen and it made her feel sad, a little sick.
If Quinn wanted a family or marriage, if he wanted her, he would’ve initiated a discussion about their future. He would’ve asked to talk about her ill-timed and unwelcome declaration seven days ago.
His silence on the subject said everything she needed to hear: he absolutely wasn’t interested in anything more than what they had.
He’d married her for a reason and since that goal had been achieved, there was no rationale for staying married. It was time to cut her losses and try to move on.
Cal tipped her head to look up into Wren’s lovely face. “Does this mean we can start, uh, dialing it down?”
“Sorry?” Wren asked, confused.
Cal shoved her fingers into her hair, lifting and pushing the curls back. “That was the plan—we make it look good and then we start drifting apart.”
Wren waved at the papers in Cal’s lap. “If you faked everything, then I commend you on your magnificent acting.” Wren placed her hands on her hips and scowled. “But I’ve been doing this for a long time and I know fake when I see it. This isn’t one of those times.”
“We’re friends.”
“Pffft. You are so much more than that. You are good together. Damn, girl, you are the best thing that’s happened to that man in a very long time. You don’t seem unhappy either, so why on earth do you want it to end?”
She didn’t, but what she wanted was beside the point. “It will end, Wren.”
“Then you are both idiots,” Wren told her before bending down and kissing Cal’s cheek. “I hope you both change your minds because yours could be an amazing love story.”
Wren touched Cal’s shoulder and gave her a sad smile before walking away. Cal gathered the articles together and pushed the papers back into the envelope and laid it face down on her lap.
She had to start controlling her attraction to Quinn instead of letting attraction control her. If she didn’t, she would find herself in the same situation she’d been in years ago, hopelessly in love with a man who didn’t love her, without any emotional protection or power.
Oh, wait...that horse had already bolted from the stable; she already loved Quinn. She loved him like a friend; she loved him as a lover. She simply, deeply, profoundly loved him, in every way a woman could.
Okay... She loved him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t protect herself. She was not prepared to let all rational thought disappear and capriciousness rule. She’d learned her lesson well.
Unlike her younger self, she could now look at relationships, and men, and see them clearly. Quinn didn’t love her, not romantically in a I-want-to-spend-the-next-sixty-years-with-you type of way. He loved making love to her. Maybe because she was handy and she was the only person he could—without making waves and headlines—have sex with. Quinn was also exceptionally good at separating his emotions from, well, anything and she knew he could easily separate their friendship from making love.
She didn’t have any desire to change Quinn. Yeah, her goal had been to rehabilitate his reputation, but she had no desire to rehabilitate him. She’d always loved him for who he was, the adrenaline junkie who’d jump off buildings with a parachute strapped to his back, who laughed like a maniac on roller-coaster rides, who leaped from one crazy stunt to another in order to feel alive. Because he’d spent his childhood hoping to be noticed, and she understood his need to feel alive, to feel free. She understood what motivated his crazy...
She loved him. She understood him. She would feel like she’d had her limb amputated when they parted, but they had to end this. Her heart was already battered and bruised, but that was better than having her psyche and her soul decimated.
She and Quinn needed to have a serious talk about splitting up. They needed to come up with a plan for how to navigate the next couple of months. They had to start winding down their relationship, start spending some public and private time apart. They had to be strategic in how they drifted away from each other.
She didn’t want the public to blame Quinn. She didn’t want to reverse the current wave of good press he was receiving. Her father wanted to return to work and so could she; there were problems with the projects in Botswana, India and Belize she needed to attend to. They could blame her work, distance and time apart for the breakup of their marriage. Everyone understood that long-distance relationships never worked...
Cal pulled a bottle of water from her bag and twisted the cap. She took a long swallow and replaced the cap as Quinn called a break.
Quinn’s eyes met hers across the ice and he lifted a finger to tell her he’d be with her shortly. Happy to wait, Cal watched as the players glided across the ice, most of them in her direction. As they removed their helmets, she recognized some faces from the barbecue on Quinn’s yacht last weekend.
“Hey, Cal.”
Cal dropped her feet and leaned forward, smiling. “Hey Matt, Jude. Beckett.”
Beckett sent her a bold smile. “Mrs. Boss Lady.”
Cal leaned back and crossed her legs, amused when six eyes followed the very prosaic movement of her denim-covered legs tucked into knee-high leather boots. God, they looked so young, so fresh-faced. Compared to Quinn, they looked like boys. These boys still had a lot of living to do. They needed to experience a little trouble, needed to have their hearts broken and learn a couple of life lessons. Then their pretty-boy faces would become truly attractive.
Cal jerked her attention from her thoughts to their conversation.
“So, what are we doing tonight?” Beckett demanded, sliding guards onto the blades of his skates before swinging open the door that would take him off the ice. He walked between Cal and the boards and dropped into the chair next to her, sending her an easy, confident grin. “FOMO’s, Up Close or Bottoms Up?”
“What’s FOMO’s?” Cal asked, interested. She knew that Up Close was a club and that Bottoms Up was a sports bar owned by Kade, Mac and Quinn.
Beckett stretched out his arms and his hand brushed Cal’s shoulder as he rested it against the back of her chair. Not wanting to give him any ideas—he was far too slick for his age—Cal leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees.
“It’s a place downtown,” Beckett replied. “Want to come?”
Matt flicked a glance toward Quinn and shook his head. “Uh, Beck, not a great idea. Boss man wouldn’t like it.”
Cal frowned. The comment sliced a bit too close to the bone. “Last time I checked, I was a grown-up and I make my own decisions. Quinn doesn’t do that for me.”
Jude pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, Cal, he really won’t like you...”
Beckett’s laugh was rich. “If she wants to come, let her. We’ll be there from around ten.”
Who went out at ten? Ten was when most people were thinking about bed, or sitting in their pj’s eating ice cream. “Ten?”
Beckett picked up the end of her braid and rolled it in his fingers. “Maybe you are too old to party with us.” Cal almost didn’t notice the sly look he sent Quinn, the smirk to his fallen-angel mouth. “Maybe you should just be a good wife and stay in. Quinn definitely won’t like it.”
She knew she was being played, but she couldn’t bear the thought of this young whippersnapper thinking anyone had control over her.
Cal jerked her braid out of his fingers. “For your information, Quinn has no say about what I do or who I do it with.”
Beckett lifted an amused eyebrow. “Okay then, Mrs. Rayne. FOMO’s, at ten. Do you want us to collect you?”
“I think I can get there under my own steam,” Cal told him, her tone slightly acidic.
“Get where?”
She hadn’t heard Quinn’s silent approach, but Matt and Jude’s tense body language should’ve given her a hint. Beckett’s sly smirk deepened and Quinn’s fierce frown didn’t intimidate him in the least. “Hey, boss. Just to let you know, Callahan is joining us at FOMO’s tonight, if you want to hang out.”
Quinn’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. “At FOMO’s?” He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. “No, she’s not.”
Beckett stood up and shrugged. “I told her you wouldn’t like it, but she said you’re not the boss of her.”
“Hey, I’m right here!” Cal stated.
“You are not going to FOMO’s.”
Cal tilted her head. Right, this was just one small reminder as to why she shouldn’t want to stay married. Nobody was allowed to make decisions about any aspect of her life but her. “I am. And you are not going to stop me.”
Cal stood up as Beckett, Jude and Matt made a tactical retreat.
Quinn looked like he was making an effort to hold on to his temper. “Cal, listen to me. FOMO’s—”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Rayne! We’re sleeping together and that’s it.” Cal pulled her bag over her shoulder. “You are never going to control me, tell me what to do or how to do it. I will never allow a man that measure of control again.”
“I’m not trying to control you! I’m trying to tell you that FOMO’s is—”
“Save it! I’m not going to listen!” Cal wasn’t interested in anything more he had to say, her temper now on a low simmer. What was it about men and their need to control the situation, control how their women acted? Was it ego? Stupidity? A rush of blood to the head? Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to play his game. She might like his bossy ways in the bedroom, but everything else—her money, her clothes, what she did and how she did it—was strictly off-limits.
She loved him and he didn’t love her. It was that simple. But even if he did fall to the floor and beg her to spend the next sixty years with him, she would never grant him the right to dictate her actions.
“I’m done with this conversation,” Cal told him, her voice quiet and cold. She picked up the envelope and slapped it against his chest. “Wren dropped these off. When you see them, maybe you’ll agree that we need to talk. We need to start thinking about dialing this down.”
“What are you talking about?” Quinn raised his voice as she started to walk up the stairs to the exit. “Come back here, I need you to understand why I won’t allow you to go to FOMO’s.”
Cal half turned and raised one shoulder, her face flushed with anger. Did he really use the word allow? After everything she’d told him? Seriously? “Allow? You won’t allow me to go? Who the hell do you think you are? I don’t answer to you, Rayne. I am not one of your players or one of your bimbo girlfriends who will roll over at your command!”
“Callahan!” Quinn growled.
Cal just kept on walking.
Yeah, they really needed to put some distance between them.