Page 107 of Quinlan

“What?”

“You’re going to wish you never left your room.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Quinlan

A mouse in adeadly trap. A spy found by her enemies.

Caught up in a storm of dark blue eyes and locked by a set of rough hands.

That’s me.

Sad thing is, I haven’t found anything that would be worth my predicament. This being captured, cornered,again, by the three of them.

Nothing at all. Their rooms are identical. White walls and a dark accent one like mine. One large painting is hung on it. Walk-in closets that are stacked with clothes. Adjoining bathrooms.

Password protected laptops and one sleeping Liam.

Who isn’t asleep at all.

Here, the only worthwhile thing I found was the picture of them and the little girl Rome was holding.

I’ve come up with nothing, and I’m being punished for it anyway.

“Did it turn you on?” Rome puts his face to mine while another pair of large, familiar hands grip my hips from behind. Damien. “Spying on us? Looking into things you shouldn’t?”

“Being bad?” Damien’s hands skim higher up my body. Under my tank top. He trails them over my skin in such a skilled way that I can’t catch my breath. “Yeah, it did. I can tell. You’re hot for this. For being punished.”

My eyes dance between Rome’s blue ones. They skate to the doorway, to Liam who’s watching us, a stony expression on his face.

Damien demands my attention. He hauls me to his front. Even through his jeans, I feel how hard he is. How big.

I haven’t given my pulse permission to skyrocket. Haven’t allowed my blood to boil. My skin breaks into goosebumps.

My body doesn’t care for my consent. No one can help me, least of all me.

“I’m not turned on,” I lie. Lying gets harder when Rome leans in, brushes his lips against mine, then tortures me by pulling back.

“Liars”—Damien sinks his teeth into my shoulder, forcing a cry out of me—“get punished. You just keep begging for those, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Another one.” His tongue flicks on the area he wounded. “Are you going to tell us you’re not wet, too?”

“I’m not wet.”

His hand slides to my front, his middle finger slipping under my shorts. Under my panties.

“Stop.”Please, don’t.

“No.” He finds my wetness and dips two fingers into my core, then drags them up to my clit.

Despite my clenched teeth, a moan escapes. A storm flashes across Rome’s features. Damien chuckles, his breath hot on the skin where he bit me.

“I was upset when you didn’t show up for dinner. I’m not anymore.” Rome’s hand is so strong. He’s collaring me. Shackling me to him while Damien makes me squirm and roll my hips.

I don’t want it. I do.

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