With Every Heartbeat Read online

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured regretfully in my ear and then kissed my cheek. “Do you want me to throw him out?”

  “No.” I pressed my mouth to his neck because he smelled so good there...and I just had to have my mouth on him. Plus, his caveman carrying kind of turned me on. “I actually liked hearing that someone likes me more than her.”

  He groaned and caught my face so he could mash his mouth against mine. “I like you more than her, too. I crave you so much it’s all I can think about. All I want. Maybe all I need.”

  I didn’t get a chance to respond because he pressed his tongue in and I grew too obsessed with craving him right back. We parted only long enough for him to lay me on the bed and crawl onto the mattress with me.

  “Is it bad if I grew hard the moment he said pussy? I instantly envisioned yours, and then I wanted inside it.”

  I gulped, watching him rip off my jeans. “Only if it’s bad that hearing you say that makes me wet.”

  With a grin, he hiked up the shirt I was wearing. Then he ripped off the panties I’d put on to make breakfast, tearing them to smithereens. “I don’t mind being bad with you.” Dipping his face between my legs, he slid his tongue inside me and showed me just how good bad could be.

  I snuck over to Quinn’s apartment on Sunday night after he texted to tell me Ten was working and he was home alone. It was my first booty call¸ I realized, and it made me giddy as I stole up the stairs to his apartment.

  He looked similarly excited as he opened the door for me and let me in. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief and he bit his lip as he took my hand and pulled me inside and closed the door behind me.

  “Did you have any problems getting here?” he asked, his voice hushed.

  I shook my head. All he was doing was holding my hand and I wanted to attack him, but I only shifted a step closer. “I was home alone too, so no one noticed me leaving.”

  His grin spread and he tipped his head as if he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. “Good,” he whispered.

  I couldn’t handle it. I lifted my fingers and touched his face, grazing my nails over his dimple. “Why’re we whispering?” I had to ask, my voice just as quiet and conspiring as his. “I thought you said Ten was working tonight.”

  “He is.” Quinn dipped in closer until our brows brushed. “But it feels naughtier to talk like this, like we’re sneaking around.” His eyes fluttered as if he was going to close them, but he didn’t. Then he glanced his cheek off mine and admitted in a soft, husky voice directly into my ear. “I like feeling naughty with you.”

  Lifting my second hand, I cupped his face in my palms before slipping them up his jaw and dipping my fingers into his hair and then grasping fistfuls. Then I whispered into his ear, “You can be as naughty as you want with me.”

  A growl rumbled from his chest as he crushed his mouth to mine. His tongue speared into me, and I whimpered as he picked me up by the bottom and spun me around to press my back against the wall and anchor me there while his lips attacked mine.

  We couldn’t get enough, grappling and tugging at each other’s clothes, teeth nipping at the other’s skin, hands unable to stop gripping and tearing.

  “I want to do you right here against this wall,” he rasped into my ear as he tugged my panties, the last of my clothes, down my legs.

  I was in no condition to deny him anything, so I just nodded, staring down at him with wide, amazed eyes as he knelt in front of me to help me step out of my underwear. He lingered down there, and I squirmed a little inside, remembering how his tongue felt on me. I was so wet it was embarrassing. And yet thrilling.

  A long breath escaped him as he looked up and met my gaze. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured.

  My heart fluttered in my chest and I didn’t know how to answer. His gaze captured me as if he knew he possessed every freaking molecule of my being.

  “When you look at me like that, I feel like a helpless little fly caught in your web.”

  His confession caused a laugh to blurt from me. I was the one caught and entranced under his spell.

  “Do I hear another biology lesson coming?” I asked.

  His grin exploded across his face. “The spider builds his web to catch his food.”

  I groaned and covered my face as if I hated his biology lessons, when actually I loved them.

  He ran his fingers up the insides of my thighs. “As soon as his victim comes along and gets caught in his web, he strikes.”

  I yelped when Quinn’s arms snaked around my legs and wrapped around me. His naughty grin grew. “After he binds his silk around his little fly so she can’t possibly escape, he bites her with his venom.”

  Quinn sank his teeth into me, right between my legs with a playful kind of nip. I groaned and buried my fingers in his hair, pulling taut at his scalp when his tongue licked across my clit. He killed me with his mouth, massaging that sensitive little bundle of nerves until I was squirming against him, so close to the brink that I didn’t care how hard I was pulling his hair now, or that I might’ve hurt his back when I wrapped one leg around his shoulder and dug the heel of my foot into his spine. When he plunged two fingers into me, I lost it.

  I was loud and unashamed by what a commotion I made, because the louder I got the more enthused and hungry he turned. I loved that. I wanted him ravenous.

  When I finally breathed out a drained breath, he broke his mouth from my pussy and wiped the back of his hand across his red, swollen lips. His blue eyes were especially bright when they met mine. His gaze told me how amazing he thought I was, how much he loved being here with me like this, how precious this moment was to him. But he didn’t verbalize any of that. He didn’t have to. Instead, he said it in his own way…his geeked-out, biology-loving way.

  “So after the spider injects his venom, he retreats a safe distance to let her die.”

  “Check,” I murmured in a dazed voice as I remained collapsed against the wall. “I definitely feel limp enough to be half dead.”

  Quinn’s smile was as deadly as it was smugly adorable when he glanced up from stepping out of his boxer shorts. My gaze went directly to his cock as it bobbed away from him, hard and long and so freaking thick. The droplet of pre-cum beading from the head made my mouth water.

  “Did you know the French call an orgasm la petite mort, the little death? Because of that near state of unconsciousness after coming so hard?”

  I shook my head, watching the flash of his white canines and remembering what they’d just done to me. “No,” I said, “but it makes sense.” I could die a happy girl right about now.

  Setting one hand on the wall, he used the other to take himself in hand and guide his cock to me. “But back to your lesson. Spider venom not only kills his victim, but it also liquefies all her organs because he can’t process solid foods.”’

  Oh, yeah. He’d definitely liquefied my insides. I felt like nothing but a gooey pile of mush. But I was so far past creepy, crawly spider talk. When Quinn Hamilton was touching himself, there was only one thing on my mind.

  “Is it bad that I’ve become obsessed with this part of you?” I asked, reaching out so I could wrap my hand around his girth.

  He clenched his teeth and a raspy sound exited his throat. “No,” he said as he leaned in to press his lips against my forehead as he let me play. “I like your obsession with it.”

  I ran my fingers over him, intrigued by the thickest vein running down the entire length. I smiled, knowing that if I asked him, he’d probably know the scientific name of that vein.

  His voice was strained as he squeezed his eyes closed. “Your touch is so gentle and soft.”

  I glanced up and studied his face as I gripped him again and slowly pumped him. “Is that bad?”

  “No. But it’s driving me insane. You can…you can be rougher…if you want.”

  “Rougher?” I repeated, very interested by the idea. I could tell by his expression that rougher was exactly what he wanted. “Why you naughty, naughty boy,” I leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Show me how rough you want it.”

  He growled and instantly covered my hand, squeezing my fingers harder around his erection. Then he picked up the speed, helping me jerk him off.

  “Oh God.” I squeezed my legs together as I watched. “I think I’m going to come again.”

  “You better believe you are.”

  Abruptly letting go of my hand, he gripped my hips and lifted me higher against the wall. I squeaked in surprise and let go of his cock to grip his shoulders. As soon as he had me positioned where he wanted me, he thrust forward, impaling me at an angle that had me crying out and instantly constricting around him. It was rough and fast and utterly amazing.

  Afterward, he gently carried my limp remains to the couch, where he curled onto the cushions with me and cradled me into his arms. He was so tender and kind it made me melt against him and close my eyes with a satisfied sigh. The soft teddy bear had returned after taking me with an animalistic passion. I loved both extremes.

  In the quiet aftermath, after we recovered from our near-death experience, he stroked my hair while I ran my fingernails up his back, following the grooves of his scars like I was working my way through a maze.

  He shivered and hummed deep in his throat. “That feels so good. You will not believe how much they itch sometimes.”

  I opened my eyes, surprised he was actually bringing attention to his scars. “Do they really?” I made sure to keep doing exactly what I was doing. He rewarded me by relaxing deeper into me, his huge beautiful body growing deliciously heavy as his face nestled into my hair.

  “How did you get them anyway?” I didn’t change the speed or pressure of my administration, hoping to God I hadn’t triggered anything bad by asking.

  But he remained completely lax against me. “That actually came from one of my mom’s men. Not her.”

  I couldn’t contain a horrified gasp as I hugged him to me.

  He hugged me back. “She liked to pick guys who could get as drunk mean as she did.”

  “Was it a belt?” I asked. When he nodded, I shuddered and tried not to gag. “It must’ve been awful. My dad took a belt to me a few times, but it only left a mark once when he used the wrong end.”

  Quinn’s hand went to the back of my knee as if he remembered seeing that mark and knew where it had come from. “Yeah, well, this guy thought the wrong end was actually the right end to use on an eight-year-old boy.”

  Eight? I clutched him a little closer. “Why’d he go after you?”

  “He was beating my mom. No idea why they were arguing, but I tried to stop him. I usually didn’t intervene because my mom typically started it and gave back as good as she got. But she was no longer at a place where she could fight back.” His sigh was heavy and full of dark memories. “I didn’t do much damage to him, though. Probably didn’t even leave a single bruise. My mom and I both ended up in the hospital that night.”

  “My God.” I ran my fingers over his face, so relieved he’d survived all that. “I never ended up in the hospital from any of my experiences.”

  Quinn lifted his face and looked up at me, his eyes curious. “Not even once?”

  I shook my head. “I was one of those extremely obedient children. I learned early which lines never to cross, I hid when he wanted me to be scarce, and I was there when I needed to be there, doing my duties.”

  His dark swirling eyes told me he didn’t believe me. Then his fingers drifted over my shoulder to sweep across my old cigarette burns. “What about these?”

  I sniffed out a sad laugh. “He found an opened, half-empty pack of cigarettes in his study one time. He thought they were mine. When I denied it, he lit one and held it against me until I cried out and started sobbing, begging him to stop. After he asked me again, I still denied it, insisting they weren’t mine. So he lit another and burned me again. It took five times before I finally admitted they were mine. The next day, one of his friends asked him if he’d left his pack of cigarettes and favorite lighter at our house.”

  Quinn curled his lip as if he wanted to hunt my father down and hurt him. “Did he apologize?”

  I let out a short, hard laugh. “My father? No way. He slapped me for lying to him by finally admitting they were mine.”

  “Bastard,” he growled.

  Loving how protective and fierce he looked, I kissed his cheek.

  His lashes fluttered and he leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine. “It must’ve been hell for you.”

  I shrugged. “It was manageable. I knew my limits. Physical, fist-to-skin beatings were actually pretty rare. Maybe once a month.”

  “Once a month is not that rare.” He ran the backs of his knuckles across my cheek. “But Cora made it sound as if you were always scared for your life and showed up to school every day freshly bruised.”

  With a roll of my eyes, I began to stroke his back again. “Cora has a way of overdramatizing things. Attacks didn’t really come because I’d disobeyed. Usually, it was something that set him off at work, and he’d need to vent on me, using me as his whipping post to relieve his stress.” I shrugged. “I guess it was a good thing he was a powerful man at his bank. He usually got his way in his business dealings. So the abuse was limited. It was the psychological and emotional treatment I hated most.”

  Quinn nodded. “I know what you mean. I always preferred it when my mom would just whack me on the side of the head and walk away than when she called me worthless and told me how she wished I’d never been born.”

  “Oh, God. I hate that line. My father used it on me all the time. Or he’d tell me I was going to turn out a whore, just like my mother.”

  Growling deep in his throat, Quinn tightened his arms around me. “You are not—”

  “I know.” I kissed his chin, appreciating the vehemence in his voice. “But it still tears you down. It makes you feel weak.”

  “Worthless,” he added softly.

  “Alone,” I said.

  Quinn gazed in my eyes. “Unloved.”

  “Trapped,” I whispered.

  We gazed at each other for the longest time. I don’t think I’d ever understood anyone the way I understood Quinn in that moment. He got me completely, and I got him. I felt shredded and bare, and yet completely liberated in my exposure.

  “Thank God we’re free of them,” I managed to croak, feeling things for another person that I’d never felt for anyone.

  “Yeah,” he murmured. “Thank God.”

  “These last few months, away from him, have been an experience I’ll never forget. And if he finds me and forces me to return home—”

  “Finds you?” Quinn cut in, blinking away his confusion. Then his eyes filled with horror. “Oh God. He doesn’t know you’re here?” He gasped, guessing the truth.

  I shook my head, realizing only Cora knew what it had taken for me to get here, and maybe she didn’t even know the full extent of my escape. But I told Quinn, detailing how I’d transferred the money from my account and gotten my car and escaped in the night. At one point, he covered his mouth with his hands and just watched me from wide, blue eyes.

  “But I had to leave. I had to come here,” I started. My lips began to form Cora’s name as I was on the brink of telling him how much she needed me. But then I remembered; I couldn’t tell him that part. An ache formed in my chest. I hated keeping anything from him.

  He nodded anyway, as if he understood everything. “Of course you did. He didn’t treat you like a daughter. You were his slave. No one should live like that.”

  I licked my lips nervously. If Cora had never told me about her sickness, I never would’ve broken free. I probably would’ve remained my father’s slave for the rest of my life.

  “What do you think he’ll do if he finds you?”

  “Oh, he will,” I said with total reassurance. “There’s really no if about it. Eventually, he’ll come. It’s just a matter of time.”

  Quinn let out a harsh breath as if he were trying to brace himself for the inevitable. “What’re you going to do when he does?”

  I shivered; I couldn’t stop myself. Quinn tightened his arms around me protectively. When I leaned my face against his shoulder, he kissed my hair.

  “I don’t know.” And that was the honest truth. “Legally, he can’t force me to go back with him. I’m an adult, and the money is mine; I inherited it from my mother after she died. He can’t touch it. I just…” I squeezed my eyes closed. “I hope I have the willpower to tell him no if he tries to intimidate me into returning with him.”

  “You will,” Quinn assured me. He leaned in to kiss me, and we didn’t just share lips then, we shared souls. “You’re strong. And besides, I’ll be right there with you, standing by your side and holding your hand when you do it. If he tries to touch you, I’ll—”

  “Quinn,” I rasped in reprimand. I didn’t want to hear him say what he’d do to my father. He wasn’t violent, and instinctively I knew he hated violence; it made him think of his mother, as if maybe he might become her. I didn’t want him to go through that.

  He nodded, remaining quiet, but the lethal intent remained in his gaze. “He’ll never hurt you again. I promise it.”

  I nodded, and it was my turn to kiss him. His mouth latched onto mine eagerly.

  Our lips stayed connected as we kissed deep into the night, chasing away all the haunting memories of our past and filling them with something light and beautiful and precious. I realized then that no matter what happened, I’d always have this—memories of him—to keep me warm for the rest of my life.

  Everything was different with Zoey.

  I’d always been so unsure around Cora, nervous about finally having my first girlfriend and worried I’d do something wrong. I’d wanted to impress her and get her to like me so much I hadn’t bothered with trying to figure out whether I really liked her in return.

  With Zoey, we just...clicked. I knew I liked her. I never worried about needing to impress her because I had this sense I already did without really trying. I was usually too concerned about when I’d get to see her again to worry about that, anyway. I just wanted to be with her constantly. The urge to always find my way close to her was like an itch just under the skin that could never be relieved until she was back with me.

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