Nail Down (Men out of Uniform Book 2) Page 4

  Her eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed before she finally spoke.

  “You must have been really, really good at what you did,” she whispered.

  Her voice was low, hoarse and as expected, she didn’t temper her response. He was starting to crave that openness and honesty like a fucking drug.

  He cleared his throat. “Some would say not good enough. I got pretty banged up. More than once.”

  Quinn closed her hands into fists but not before Ward had seen the trembling in them. “Yes, but you survived. And went back for more.”

  He looked down at the mangled mess of his leg, his hand. And that was just the damage in his line of vision. “Yeah, well, the last time took care of that. For good.”

  He reached down into his gym bag. “Here.” He held out his towel and his spare t-shirt. It was all creased up, but it was clean and had to be better than the wet clothes she had on. “You can—”

  The words lodged in his throat at the thick tear that tracked down her cheek. Shit. Tears. For him? God, why? Because he’d shown her the scars? Where some animal had done their best to bash his head in?

  “Quinn, what—”

  She closed the distance between them and put a soft hand against his cheek. He almost recoiled at the touch. Not because it was distasteful but because it made him realize how long it’d been since he’d had a touch that was gentle. And because he wanted it—from her—with an intensity that made him shake.

  Her lips parted, her gaze dropped to his mouth and Ward’s heartbeat kicked into high gear. She licked her lips and bent toward him. His stomach clenched. Jeez, it almost looked as if she was about to—

  Damn.

  Ward wasn’t used to women taking the initiative and he would have bet everything he had Quinn wasn’t the type. He would have been dead wrong.

  Ward jerked back as if she’d stung him with her lips. She’d had more flattering reactions to a kiss, maybe not by much, but no guy had ever looked as if she’d done the absolute last thing they’d expected. And was horrified by it.

  What the heck had she been thinking? Okay, she knew that, but why the hell had she acted on it and thought it could work in any way at all?

  She would have died of mortification right then and there except for the look in his eyes—hot and dark. And hungry.

  She tried to draw in a deep breath but her heart was beating so fast she couldn’t seem to manage it. She gasped as he stood up, his movement so sudden she had to take a step back to get out of his way.

  He towered over her, his jaw flexing. “Tell me that wasn’t pity,” he forced out.

  “Pity?” Was he kidding? “No, of course not.”

  He took a step forward, bringing him so close she could feel the heat coming off his big body. She gulped. That would be his mostly naked big body.

  “Sure?” he ground out.

  Her pulse was pounding. Her stomach churning. He was huge, dwarfing her. She could just make out the edge of the scar on his head as she looked up at him. A jagged white line that ran through his dark buzzed hair from above his left ear up and over the top of his head to above his right eye. She fought against the urge to take another step back. He was all muscle and barely leashed power and he might have been trying to intimidate her, but damn if she’d let him.

  He was so close she had to tilt her head way back to be able to look him straight in the eye. “I’m sure.”

  Something flashed in his eyes an instant before he reached forward, curled a hard, warm hand around the back of her neck and urged her against him.

  Quinn sucked in a quick breath and clutched at his thick biceps for balance when he walked her backward until she was up against the cool wall of the locker room. The flesh under her hands was rock hard, smooth, hot.

  His jaw flexed as he wiped at the wetness on her cheek with the backs of his fingers, the move rough and clumsy and all she could do was stare into his dark eyes. And then he bent his head, put his mouth on hers and the searing heat of his body seeped into her, exploded through her in a hot arc of sensation. Fingers clenched into her hair and he groaned into her mouth, his lips hard and firm against hers as he angled her head and urged her lips open.

  His tongue when it touched hers sent a shaft of sensation arrowing straight down to her stomach and lower, between her legs. She whimpered at the intensity of it. If she hadn’t been anchored against the wall with his body, she might have fallen in a heap at his feet.

  The kiss was demanding, unrelenting and so hot it seared her to the bottoms of her feet and caused an ache deep inside she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. The blood roared in her ears as his tongue swiped against hers, the movements rough, dominating, over and over, until all she could think about was being under him, while his body did the same thing to her own.

  He lifted his head and she sucked in a deep gulp of air. His hardness pressed against her stomach, bold, demanding. Unmistakable.

  “Yeah. It happens,” he bit out, his voice low and rough, his breathing uneven. “And with you? When you’re close? It seems to happen a lot.”

  Quinn licked her lips, tried to take a moment to get her bearings, but he hadn’t made any move to let her go so that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Surprised the hell out of me too.”

  He looked as if he’d been hit by a freight train. She would have taken some pride in that except he didn’t look happy. Not. One. Bit.

  “For the record,” he ground out. “I don’t kiss.”

  God, his lips were so beautiful, so thick, so full and still wet with their kiss. To think they’d been on hers, his tongue driving her wild, teasing, making her ache. She could still taste him in her mouth, wanted to taste him again. “Then—then what do you call that?”

  “It— I—”

  “Also, for someone who doesn’t kiss? You sure know how to do it…well.”

  He pulled away, his hands sliding from where he still held her and she couldn’t stop the shudder that went through her at the slide of his hot skin over hers.

  He ran a rough hand down his face, the rasp of his beard loud in the quiet of the room. “You know what kissing like that leads to.”

  Sure. Whatever.

  “No,” he bit out.

  She frowned. “No what?”

  “Not going to happen. Christ, never going to happen.”

  “Um…I think it just did.”

  “No” He shook his head. “I mean us. Sex. Not happening.”

  She looked down at the erection he couldn’t possibly hide. Or deny.

  “Irrelevant,” he bit out.

  “Ah, are you sure?” Quinn licked her dry lips. “And anyway, what makes you think I—”

  “You’re giving me the sex look.”

  “Sex look?”

  “Yeah. The one that says I could flip you around against the wall, pull your pants down and fuck you—right here, right now—and you wouldn’t do a thing to stop me.”

  Chapter Three

  Ward didn’t know what to do with his hands after he’d knocked on the door, so he jammed them into the pockets of his jeans when he heard the lock click open. It was late, he should have called, hell, he shouldn’t have even—

  “Ward.”

  Quinn stood with her hand on the door. She hadn’t opened it all the way, but it was enough for him to get a good look at her. And her hair was down. Man, he hadn’t given much thought to the fact he’d only ever seen her with a ponytail, but it looked pretty out. It hung past her shoulders in messy waves he had a stupid urge to run his fingers through. Or sniff.

  “What— How did you—”

  “First off, yeah, I looked up your address in Gus’s files. Totally inappropriate. Sue me.”

  “Okay.” She frowned. “And second?”

  He cleared his throat. “You going to let me in?”

  Christ, she paused. Actually thought about it, not that he could blame her. For some reason that made him smile.

 
; She stepped aside without saying a word. The house was small and old, kind of cozy, and needed a coat of paint just about everywhere. Just like the outside. He had a quick impression of mismatched furniture and bright colors and a dining room table he’d bet she didn’t use for eating. Right now, it was covered with papers and files and looked like what he might have interrupted.

  He shrugged back the hoodie after she’d closed the door. He hadn’t worn the skull cap. Why bother? He’d been coming straight here and he figured Quinn had seen almost everything ugly there was to see. Besides, her staring didn’t particularly bother him. Now he needed to lay the rest of it on the table. He probably owed her that much.

  He’d just taken a deep breath to try and do exactly that when she gave him a good up-and-down.

  “Why do you try so hard to look like a thug?” she asked.

  His first instinct was to deny it, tell her she didn’t know shit about him, except…

  “I want to make sure people know who I am.”

  She smiled. It was slight, but still a smile. “A fitness lunatic who loves dogs?”

  “Quinn…” He sighed. “I’m a thug. I’ve been one all my life. I’ve always been bigger and tougher than everyone else. It’s all I know. I just ended up working for Uncle Sam doing it rather than doing time. I want to make sure people get the message.”

  “Why? So they’ll stay clear?”

  “If you like.”

  She walked up to him and poked him right in the middle of the chest. The jab wasn’t exactly gentle.

  “Well, I’m going to tell you something you probably should already know. If you were in any way observant, that is.”

  Ward raised himself to his full height, did his best to look intimidating, even though he knew with Quinn it was pretty much a waste of time. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

  “It doesn’t work on me.”

  He let out a rough breath. He’d figured that one out all by himself. What he couldn’t figure out, though, was why.

  “And shouldn’t that be ‘fanatic’, fitness fanatic?” he added.

  She smiled, that same slight smile that lit up her eyes and zeroed right to the bottom of his gut, every single time. As if he’d said something special to be rewarded with that megawatt smile of hers. And it was for him, all for him. Jesus. Pavlov, anyone?

  “Nope.” She shook her head. “Anyone who loves exercise as much as you do has got to be a lunatic.”

  Ward laughed. The sound was so foreign, he figured it must have been a hell of a long time since he’d done it. He sure as hell couldn’t remember.

  “So, why are you here, Ward?”

  Yeah. The main event. He took a deep breath. “Sit. Please,” he added when she just stared at him.

  He shoved his hands back in his pockets when she walked past him to sit on the sofa, making sure he didn’t do anything dumb like give in to the urge to touch her. He fought back the smile when he noticed she had a big-ass stain of something right down the front of her shirt.

  “I was a dick to you yesterday.”

  “And?” she fired back without hesitation.

  Christ. He never expected this to be easy, but…

  “And I figured I owed you an explanation.”

  “Why?”

  Yeah, why? Fucked if he knew. It just was. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t have given it another thought if it were anyone but Quinn.

  “Seems I care what you think. Go figure.”

  She frowned. “If it’s about the kiss, you know, that I kissed you— And you didn’t— Well, it’s fine. Really.”

  “No. Quinn. This is me trying to say I’m sorry I acted the way I did about it. I was an asshole.”

  “Okay.” She inclined her head to him slightly, shrugged. “Forget it.”

  “Yeah, see…that’s the thing.” He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I can’t forget it. That kiss? Kinda blew my mind.”

  How many women had he kissed and never fucked? He couldn’t think of one. Not a single one. Actually, sometimes the kissing was optional and most of the time the fucking came first. With Quinn, the kiss alone had almost been enough to get him off.

  She frowned. “It did?”

  “Yeah. And for the record? I kissed you back.”

  “I know. So why did you—”

  “There are reasons I—I have… Shit.”

  He dragged in a deep breath. This explaining yourself stuff was for the fucking birds. He wasn’t used to having to account for his actions, had no experience with it.

  “My injuries,” he tried again. “It— I can’t—” He scrubbed his hand down over his face. “I told you what kissing like that leads to and I can’t fuck you the way I’d want to and that pisses me off. Okay?”

  There. He couldn’t get much simpler than that.

  Her eyes went wide. “You mean, you have problems…” Her gaze dropped down, her face white, her expression just short of horrified. “You know…with…”

  “No.” He ground his teeth. “No. Nothing like that.” Not really. “I get up. I get off. No problem. But I—I can’t… I’m not— Damn, Quinn, there are days I can barely bend it, okay?”

  “Your…thing usually bends?”

  “My leg,” he choked out. Thing? God. “My leg. I can’t put much weight directly on it. I can’t…”

  Of all the things he’d thought about that he wanted to do to her since that kiss, the images that had tormented him, the positions. All pretty much impossible for him.

  She tilted her head to the side in a move he was coming to recognize as trademark Quinn. “You’re worried about your performance?”

  No. Yes. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what?”

  “It wouldn’t be… It’s probably not going to be…”

  “So it’s an ego thing?”

  “No.”

  “You’re scared?”

  “I’ve worked through scared before, plenty of times.” He shook his head. “It’s not about me. I have some…limitations. I’m not— I used to be…”

  Aw, fuck.

  “Well, I didn’t know you before,” she said, her voice quiet. “You mean your limited mobility hampers your…prowess? Cramps your style?”

  He let out a rough breath, narrowed his eyes at the curve of her lips. “You could put it that way.” Christ, was she laughing at him?

  “I mean…don’t you know?”

  “No.”

  It should only take a second.

  Her mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding. Right?”

  “As if,” he snorted.

  She frowned. “But that’s… God, how long is that?”

  “A hell of a long time.”

  But who was counting? Shit. He was, that’s who. Three years. Three. Long. Fucking. Years.

  Quinn stood. “But…why? I don’t understand. You haven’t had sex with a woman due to the injury to your leg because you’re worried you’re not as good in bed as you used to be?”

  Put like that he sounded ridiculous, his concerns minor, and to some, maybe they were. He’d always prided himself on being good at sex. Hell, better than good. And more than part of it was pleasing the woman he happened to be with. Thoroughly. Now? He didn’t have a lot to give in that department these days so to him it was a big fucking deal.

  “I get it.” She nodded. “This is expectation management 101, right?”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, you lead me to believe anything between us would be mediocre and then you rock my world with your hard body self and then I’ll be like ‘wow, didn’t see that coming’?”

  “Yeah. I wish.” He shook his head, held back the smile that was the last thing he felt like doing, and tried to ignore the churning in the bottom of his gut along with the tension that twisted every good muscle he still had. If only that was all. If fucking only. He’d tried, tried to make her see, understand—over and over—and still couldn’t tell her all of it.

  To hell with it.

  He grabbed her
hand and urged her toward him, pushed her open palm against himself, down low, hard, until she—

  “I— Oh.”

  Bingo.

  His lips were tight as he forced himself to look her right in the eyes. “They cut off one of my balls, Quinn. And it wasn’t with any kind of surgical precision. You think my knee is a mess? Trust me when I tell you this isn’t pretty.”

  Her hand jerked under his and he sucked in a breath when she forced her hand out from under his. The hard punch to his stomach had nothing to do with the fact that she’d accidently grazed his dick and everything to do with how pale she was, how wide-eyed. How horrified.

  Great, Andrade. Great fucking going.

  She cleared her throat. “Who’s ‘they’?’” Her voice was low and rough and didn’t sound like her at all.

  Ward closed his eyes. He wasn’t ready for that. No one was ready for that. “Forget it,” he ground out. “Forget all this. Forget—”

  She stepped in front of him when he’d turned for the door. She had questions, he could see it in her eyes. Knowing Quinn she probably had a shitload but he was in no mood to satisfy her curiosity right now.

  He’d apologized. At least…he was pretty sure he’d apologized, which meant he was done here, right?

  She was frowning at him. “You’re self-conscious about it.”

  He choked out a laugh. “I was mutilated. That might be an understatement.”

  “I want to see.”

  The shaft of…something that shot through him at her words almost brought him to his knees. Was she kidding? He’d just told her he’d had one of his balls sliced off and she wanted—

  “Right now.”

  Ward swallowed, hard. “Quinn—”

  She lifted her chin. “Show me, Ward.”

  Fuck, if that wasn’t some kind of challenge. She thought to challenge him? Well fair was fair.

  “I show you mine, you show me yours,” he rasped.