Nail Down (Men out of Uniform Book 2) Page 8

  He rested his forehead against hers, his breath a hot wash against her dry lips and she fought against the urge to close her eyes, to lose herself, because she wanted more, needed so much more.

  Quinn moved her hips, flexing, jerking, trying to get him to go faster, harder, but he kept the pace he’d set. She slid her hands down his hot, damp back, her fingers tracing over the straining muscles. She dug her nails into the flexing curves of his ass, hoped she left marks. A lot of them.

  “Ward…”

  And still he held on to his control, used it against her when all she wanted was him, untamed and as oblivious in their pleasure as she was going to be. Soon, God, so soon.

  She put her mouth to his ear. “Let go and—and fuck me, Ward,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Please, please…fuck me like you mean it.”

  He stopped. For a split second his body was still, his ragged breathing the only sound she could hear. She whimpered, felt her body clench around him, once, twice.

  “Aw, Quinn. Fuck.”

  His groan came from deep within, the sound vibrating against her chest down to where they were joined. His body jerked hard against and into hers and her heart felt as if it slammed against her rib cage. Every bit of air surged out of her lungs, her blood a roar in her ears as he pounded into her, hard, fast, frenzied, over and over, until pleasure was a red haze washing through her and she shattered into a million tiny points of pure sensation.

  There were orgasms and then there were orgasms. That was… Well, she wasn’t exactly sure what that was.

  “What are you smiling about?” he murmured.

  Ward lay sprawled on his back across his big bed, hands resting on his stomach, his thick, muscled thighs relaxed, giving her an unobstructed view of the part of him that made him very much a man. Even soft he was imposing. And impressive.

  “You did good, Ward. Real. Good.”

  Her voice came out rusty and thick, as if she hadn’t used it in a long time. Quinn figured panting and moaning in mindless pleasure could probably do that to a girl. Right?

  “I should be insulted by the implication in that.”

  He might have choked out a half laugh, but she heard the strain in his voice.

  “How do you feel?”

  She almost missed the slight tilt to one side of his mouth, would have if she hadn’t been watching him so closely. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Quinn let her eyes drift down his body to his leg. Just looking at the scars made her want to punch something—or someone—and she’d never been a violent person.

  “I mean…the leg, how’s your leg?”

  His eyes opened a slit and she drew in a quick breath. She didn’t have to ask him if he was in pain. Despite the peaceful stillness of his big body, agony radiated from his dark gaze.

  “Fucked. Up,” he ground out.

  She swallowed against the flick of unease in the pit of her stomach. “Oh God, Ward—”

  “Doesn’t matter. It was so worth it.”

  The jolt to her stomach was quick, sharp. “How can you say that? Is there something you can take—”

  “No. Just…no.”

  “Then at least let me—”

  “Stay.” She’d been about to get up, but he snagged her wrist in a hard hold, tugged her back against him. “I just need to rest for a few minutes then I’ll take you home, okay?”

  Right. Not if the flexing jaw, tight lips and the whiteness around his mouth meant anything at all.

  “Dammit, Ward—”

  “Have I told you how much it turns me on when you swear?” His gaze went molten. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, Quinn. Exactly the same. No regrets. You… Under me… Yeah… So fucking good…”

  Quinn sat back as his voice trailed off, deep, husky and God…so sexy. He might have been dazed with pain, completely out of it, but he still exuded strength and power from every inch of his body.

  He was all lean, solid muscle, smooth skin and scars, so many of them. Apart from the jagged line on his skull, the puckered holes were the worst. Although each of his scars could probably have killed him, these she knew for sure could have. She reached out a hand and touched the one low down on his side, running her fingertips lightly across the raised, uneven skin. He stirred slightly under her touch, sighed. God, his body looked like a war zone, had been a war zone.

  So much pain. How could someone withstand that much pain, time and time again, and go back for more? How could someone have survived what he had?

  She swallowed back the thickness that threatened to clog her throat and glanced across to his bedside table to check the time. She smiled when she noticed what he had next to the lamp—as if he often did work in bed—and she reached out for it.

  Chapter Five

  Ward threw the t-shirt he’d just taken off into his open gym bag and stretched out the tightness in his shoulders, tried to ignore the stiffness in his leg. He needed to work out some kinks—bad. The sudden silence behind him made him so uneasy the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

  “So…” Julian cleared his throat. “I’m guessing you’re still seeing what’s-her-name?”

  Shit. So that was it. They wanted to grill him on his personal life. Again. Didn’t the idiots ever learn? Ward ground his teeth together as he turned around to face the interrogation he knew was coming.

  “Quinn. Yeah.”

  And what the hell was “seeing” anyway? If they wanted to know if he was getting laid, why didn’t they just ask and get it over with?

  Julian and Gus looked at each other before they both laughed. What was this? Synchronized shithead day? The two of them had been best friends since kindergarten and today the cutesy BFF routine was already getting on his nerves.

  “Why?” he grated. Christ, they sounded like a couple of fucking kids.

  “No reason,” Gus managed, barely able to keep a straight face.

  Julian elbowed him and just grinned. “Um…so, it’s gotta be pretty serious then?”

  Ward tried to ignore the pounding behind his eyes and fought against the instinct to jam his fingers into his eye sockets in an attempt to alleviate the pain he knew was coming. Don’t react. Keep calm. Show no weakness.

  “None of your fucking business,” he ground out instead, turning his back to them, knowing he’d probably just thrown fuel on the fire. Maybe there was such a thing as miracles and they’d take a fucking hint.

  “Oh, I think it is,” Gus drawled.

  Or maybe not.

  “Yeah?” Ward bit out. “And how do you figure that?”

  They burst out laughing—full and loud. Ward locked his jaw and swung around to see who was closest to take their head off. Instead, he froze when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the far side of the locker room.

  What the…?

  He turned his back more fully toward a closer mirror, twisting his head so that he had a clear view.

  Holy. Shit.

  “Nice look, man,” Gus chuckled. “Just sayin’. Definite improvement.”

  Ward frowned into the mirror, everything inside him still. Someone had drawn a flower around each of his bullet wounds. Petals, stems, leaves, the whole fucking nine yards. In thick, black marker. He swiped at the closest one with a hard palm, rubbed across the lines with rough fingers until his skin was red. Nothing smudged. Fuck. Thick, black, permanent marker.

  He took a deep breath. Quinn. Jesus, she’d drawn on him? When? Last night he’d been in a world of hurt, a blurry realm between the pain from his leg and the deep-seated satisfaction he’d had from coming inside her. With her stretched out under him, helpless and all his. He’d drifted, sated, fucking content but the thing was…how could he have not known? How could she have done this and him not know a Goddamn thing about it?

  He’d dozed, he knew he had, but he’d figured a few minutes at most. Once he’d been sure he could move without the top of his head exploding he’d taken her home and high-tailed it back to sleep it off.

>   Christ. She’d completely unwound him last night. Out of the blue and without warning. He should have been ticked off by the “good” comment, not ridiculously happy. And anyway, what the fuck was “happy”? He’d pleased her, more than, and guess what? Apparently he got off on it. Too bad it hadn’t been enough to mask the pain that had threatened to tear his skull apart with its intensity. Didn’t matter. He’d do it all over again anyway. Exactly the same.

  “Some chick painted my toenails once,” Julian said in a low whisper. “You know…after.”

  “I’m not sure that’s in the same ballpark, man,” Gus countered.

  “Sure it is.”

  Ward swallowed, the sound loud, even with the clanging chaos that was the gym in the background. The real question? How the hell had Quinn gotten past his guard so completely she could draw fucking flowers on him without him even noticing? Even if he was wiped out from kick-ass sex?

  Ward looked over at the guys, whispering and gesturing and still fucking cracking themselves up.

  “A woman does that to you?” Julian drawled. “She’s that far under your radar you let her do that to you? You’re gone, man. All the way, one hundred percent gone.”

  God.

  He’d had the hottest sex in his life with her. Hands down. Or was it that she was the hottest woman he’d ever fucked? Didn’t matter.

  She didn’t back down and could hold her own, especially against him. She didn’t pretend to understand or know something when she didn’t. She made no excuses for her perpetual perkiness, her annoying curiosity. Or for her clumsiness.

  He was intrigued. Period. And it hadn’t worn off in the slightest after being inside her. What the fuck was he going to do about it, her?

  Ward glanced back at his reflection, ignoring the guys, trying to tune out the fully fledged jackhammer inside his head. Quinn had gone and drawn something so benign, so simple, so…beautiful around something ugly and painful and violent. And that was Quinn, surrounding the dark and ugly with her beautiful spirit. Christ, did she affect everything she touched that way? Everyone?

  Fucking idiots, still giggling and snickering. He ducked his head because yeah…the deer in the headlights expression on his face probably made him look like an idiot too.

  He let out an unsteady breath because he couldn’t exactly ignore the fucking metaphor, could he? Everything Quinn touched she seemed to renew, enrich, make better. Shit, maybe even him.

  Julian smirked. “So what is she…an artist?”

  Ward frowned. “She’s a school teacher, not that it’s anything to do with you.”

  “A teacher?” The smile wiped off Gus’s face in an instant. “Fuck, Ward. Teachers want a white picket fence.”

  Christ. It might need a coat of paint, but she already had one of those.

  “And kids,” Gus added. “They want kids. Why do you think they became a teacher in the first place? To get their kid fix in before they have a bunch of their own.”

  His brother was likely a moron—most of the time—but in this case? Well…he just might be right.

  “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say she’s the real deal, man,” Gus added.

  Ward ran his hand over the top of his head before he put the skull cap on for his workout. “That makes other women I’ve slept with…what?”

  “Ancient history for one. They knew the setup. You would have made sure of it. I know you, but this? A school teacher? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you’re back in the game, but she’s nothing like your other hookups. I hope you know what the fuck you’re doing.”

  He’d deliberately kept away from women like Quinn in the past, women who might want something long-term, permanent, a future. He didn’t do permanent and his future now was for shit.

  “By the way…Quinn?” Ward bit out. “She’s off-limits. Anything and everything to do with her is off-limits. Got it?”

  “Since when?”

  Since she’d begun to mean something to him. Shit. He’d said it. Maybe not out loud, but inside his head and that was enough. Quinn meant something to him and no way was he sharing even the smallest detail about her with these clowns. Damn. He might not know exactly what she did mean to him but he knew it wasn’t anything normal, at least for him.

  “I saw you checking her out,” he added. “Stay away from her.”

  Gus just kept looking at him, expressionless, which for him must have been a feat.

  “You know,” Gus drawled. “I find it interesting that you’d feel the need to throw that out there. Considering my rules. I’ve never been involved with a client. Never.”

  Ah, a nerve touched. Gus had always been adamant about that. No fucking around with the clients. All those women who hung on his every word didn’t realize that by signing up for the gym or the boot camp, they’d effectively zilched out any chance with him.

  Gus leaned back, stretched his arms until his shoulder bones popped. “In fact, you’ve obviously breached this rule yourself. Maybe I need to take disciplinary action.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you.” Gus smiled. “Although, I’m sure you’d much rather fuck—”

  Gus’s breath whooshed out at the elbow Ward placed in his gut. The blow was quick and effective without causing any lasting damage.

  “Watch your mouth,” Ward snarled.

  His brother bent over, rubbed a hand against his stomach and then laughed.

  Idiot.

  “God, you’d use those special ops moves on me? Your own brother?” Gus wheezed in a breath. “You’re in trouble, dude and you don’t even know it. And by the way, if I was indeed looking at her?” Gus straightened, a big-ass, shit-eating grin on his face. “It was to wonder what the fuck she sees in you.”

  * * * * *

  “You could have told me you were one of those Devlins. This is…intense, Quinn.”

  Tonight Ward was clean-shaven. A first. And he was dressed in a suit—a tuxedo—that fit him to perfection. Another first. He also looked amazing. That part she was still getting used to.

  He’d stopped just inside the door, his hands shoved in his pockets while he looked up. He had the same expression on his face as every friend she’d ever brought home had—awe and horror in equal amounts.

  The massive crystal chandelier that hung over the marble-tiled foyer had been flown in from Italy and cost more than her car. Maybe even double that. Her mother had preened over it for months.

  Quinn sighed. She’d grown up in this house, hadn’t known any other home until she was nineteen and insisted she live on campus while she went to college. She felt as much a stranger now as she had back then.

  Ward pinned her with his dark stare. “You didn’t say anything. Why?”

  “It’s not something that just comes up in conversation. Besides, this is not my house. It’s not my money, not my life. Does it make any difference?”

  “To what goes down between us? No. Absolutely not. I don’t give a fuck who or what your family are. To whether I would have offered to come tonight? Maybe. This isn’t my scene.”

  “Scene?”

  “Old, stuck-up money.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not mine either.”

  It never had been. The thing of it was, he didn’t look out of place. Well, except for the short-cropped hair and the scars on full display without the skull cap. Even with his hands jammed in his pockets, he carried himself with a confidence that couldn’t be faked.

  She looked across at the woman on the opposite side of the foyer. She defined effortless elegance—black dress, diamonds, immaculate updo, flawless makeup. Of course. Nothing less would have done. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen her without makeup.

  Quinn curled her hand into a fist because she hadn’t had time to get that manicure she’d promised and she’d long fallen off the no-nail-biting wagon. She sighed. She sure could use some of Ward’s confidence right about now because it was only a matter of time before she was noticed.

  She drew in a deep
, fortifying breath. Ward might not look out of place, but he didn’t look happy to be here either.

  “Smile, Ward.”

  He turned dark eyes on her, one eyebrow raised. “Not everyone had a privileged childhood, Quinn. Not everyone had doting parents, whatever they asked for, a worry-free, carefree life. Not everyone makes it this far without tragedy and sacrifice.”

  The pain when it hit was hard and sharp and unforgiving. It’d been a long time since she’d let anything cut her that deep. She’d let her guard down with Ward, hadn’t realized just how much until this very minute.

  “Is that what you think?” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. “That I’ve had an ideal childhood, a fairy tale life? That I’m just playing at being the benevolent teacher? That I haven’t known loneliness, grief, pain? That I haven’t suffered?”

  He frowned. “Quinn—”

  “I thought maybe— I opened myself up to you, Ward. All the way, nothing held back and I thought… I know you think I do that with everyone, but I don’t, not the way I did with you.”

  He grabbed for her when she stepped back from him, but she shrugged off his touch. His hand curled around her arm anyway, just in time to stop her from stepping back into a waiter with a tray of Champagne. God, that would have been great, just great.

  “I thought you would have seen more than everyone else does. I gave it to you like a gift or at least I thought I did. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve become a much better expert at hiding things than I thought. Or you really are the ignorant asshole who is too blind to see what’s right in front of him.”

  This had been a mistake. A big, fat mistake. Maybe the biggest one she’d ever made. “I’m so sorry, Ward.”

  “Yeah? For what exactly? For dragging me along to this boring as fuck thing? Or putting me in my place when I deserved it?”

  She let out a long breath. He didn’t pull any punches and she wouldn’t want him to. “Yes. For that and…”