Page 2 of Mine

Chapter Two

She didn’t know how bad she affected him. Quentin stood in the living room of the 8,621 square-foot beach house. With his hands resting in the pockets of his casual khaki shorts, he watched her through the glass door. From where he stood, she couldn’t see him looming in the shadows of the night. But he had a clear view of her, the moment her goddess-like figure revealed itself.

Quentin had been perched on the edge of the pool table, drinking a glass of scotch. With a pool stick in his hand, he made attempt after attempt to focus on anything other than her, but it was futile because every time his mind shifted, there she was.

“This must’ve been what it was like for Adam in the garden,” he’d whispered. “Presented with the best fruit in all of the land but forbidden to taste.”

Wanting Phoebe from afar was the most challenging obstacle in Quentin’s existence. He’d fully mastered the way he led his life and dominated every situation thrown in his path. But Phoebe Alexandria Rose had become the one person who could own him, unequivocally. Being best friends with her brothers, Quentin had always seen Phoebe as his own little sister. Back then, she was a skinny, sometimes snaggletooth little girl, with a smart mouth and a thousand plats.

Separated by four years of age was a big deal then, and whenever his friends would have a problem with some lil boy trying to step to Phoebe or her identical sisters, Jonathon, Jacob, and he would quickly intervene. At the time, it drove Phoebe crazy. According to her, she would never have a boyfriend if they didn’t mind their own business. But her business was his business whether she liked it or not. That friendship was a natural loving one, but when Phoebe turned seventeen, her skinny legs took shape, and her thin hips rounded out.

Quentin had felt like a full-on pervert watching her one day. And since then, he’d avoided coming close to her like the plague. It was disheartening now because out of all of that evading; it had not put out the fire that burned in him for her.

Phoebe had blossomed into a beautiful woman, with book smarts that had her graduating high school at sixteen.

Now, she was an attorney at Rose and Garnet LLC.

Quentin had never been so thoroughly turned on because of a woman’s brains over her beauty. But Phoebe was one of a kind, and in the torrent depths of Quentin’s mind, she belonged to him. There was just one problem, and it was quite huge. His best friends would kill him. Quentin considered himself a pretty solid guy; he could take on the best of the best.

But if surrounded by that of the legendary Rose men, he was sure to be exiled after getting a thorough beat down. Quentin had thought about sitting his friends down and having a serious conversation about the nature of his love for Phoebe. It would’ve been a good idea had he not grown up with them. But unfortunately, his brothers from another mother knew him too well. His history with women wasn’t misunderstood. Quentin was the love ‘em and leave ‘em guy. They witnessed his trail of broken hearts and had to assist him with fighting off other brothers, uncles, and sometimes daddies when it came to their precious women. It wasn’t completely Quentin’s fault. The women knew he wasn’t looking to settle down; they went into a steamy night of sexual escapades knowing he would possibly never call again. But it didn’t stop them from falling, and that didn’t stop Quentin from walking away. Now when it came to his forbidden fruit, the odds were stacked against him.

When Quentin had gotten news that Christopher and Norma would be wed, he quickly rescheduled appointments and redirected calls to his assistant before grabbing the next flight out to Nicaragua.

The trip was just the excuse he needed to see her again, and when Phoebe turned her beautiful face toward him, Quentin had reached for the stars and set a date he had every intention on fulfilling. It was a sweet irony that Jonathon had intervened, even though he had no idea of Quentin’s intentions.

But if his progress hadn’t been stopped, Quentin would have dragged Phoebe’s sexy ass right back to his space and done God knows what to her. He had called it fate. It just wasn’t meant to be. But now she stood, like an offering in the moonlit night. So close, that he could reach her in four long strides.

“Go away…” Quentin pleaded, frightened by the activities they would surely get into if she came any closer.

When Phoebe halted, Quentin could’ve sworn she’d felt his desperate plea, but then she took a bold step. Then another one, and before he knew what happened, Quentin had abandoned his spot for the front door. It creaked open, and he stepped out of the shadows, his broad shoulders bare, and his eyes giving off a sparkling gleam in the moonlight.

Phoebe paused again, and her heartbeat knocked at the sight of his gorgeous materialization. He didn’t make a move toward her, just stood as if he dared her to venture closer. Phoebe didn’t break many rules. Considering her profession, it was one thing she took pride in. But there was a saying about rules being meant to be broken, and this was one of those times when she didn’t give a damn. As if something inside her snapped, Phoebe’s feet began to move. Seeing her pace accelerate, Quentin freed his hands from his pockets and matched her stride, his legs moving with a force of agility that brought them face to face within seconds.

As he reached down to gather her up, Phoebe jumped into his arms, and the connection of their skin scorched their bodies and tingled every nerve ending dancing inside them. Their mouths fused together, and their hungriness became greedy. With fervent kissing, they sucked, bit, and pulled at each other’s lips, ravenous and unrelenting.

Quentin palmed Phoebe’s derriere, placing a squeeze on her ass so tight she yelped into his mouth. A thunderous animalistic growl fled his throat and with her ass in his hands, he rubbed her crotch against his rock-hard shaft, desperate to be inside her.

“Take me inside,” she breathed into his mouth. “If you want, I don’t care,” she retracted.

With purpose, Quentin didn’t fight, turning and taking the few steps before climbing the natural oak porch and entering the pine-oak beach house. Knowing the interior from memory, Quentin kept his focus on sucking in Phoebe’s lips while he walked them to a bedroom. His arms skimmed up her back and untied her bikini top. The thin piece of fabric fell to the side, and Quentin pulled back to look at her. His dark gaze scoured her cocoa brown flesh, still wet from the jacuzzi tub. When his eyes took in her cinnamon brown breast and dark chocolate nipples, his pupils took on another shade of night.

“You’re wet,” his dark voice boomed. Quentin coached his body not to react too quickly to her beauty but seeing her bare beautiful breasts tore through his libido.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“You were out in the dark waters this late?” he questioned.

Phoebe smirked, even in the sweltering heat, Quentin was concerned for her.

“Wet for you,” she said.

Quentin pulled his gaze from her nipples back to her beautiful face. Her lips withdrew into a devilish smile, and his hands sank into her wet strands. With a fierce grip, he pulled her face to his and kissed her chin, cheek, and the corner of her lips before drawing her head back and biting down on her jaw. A rainstorm of heat blazed through Phoebe, and her nipples cowered into nubs.

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into, Phoebe?” Before she could respond, he finished, “Saying things like that to me could get you in a lot of trouble. And I do mean trouble in every…sense…of the word.”

Phoebe shivered under his sharp predatory bite. As if he claimed her for all others to keep their hands off.

“It’s the truth,” she practically whispered, her voice trembling with an exciting fear she’d never known.

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