Page 228 of Quinlan

Her lips part, eyebrows knitting, she’s adorable. And I don’t feel like playing anymore. It’s time I have her. It’s fucking time I told her I’ve never been this worried in my life.

My heart goes wild in my chest. She could’ve been taken.

I’m inside the car, both my hands on the wheel.

“What the actual fuck, Quinlan.” We blend into traffic.

He could’ve hurt her.

Her hand wraps around my arm, fingers digging into my suit jacket. “You have to let me go to him.”

Him. I know whohimis.

“First of all, fuck no.” My hardened gaze meets hers. Back to the road.

“You can’t lock me up forever.” She leans over me, her hand stretching to theunlockbutton at my side. The one she forgot about when I surprised her by throwing her in here.

“Sit back down.” Unfortunately for her, I know every single pleasure point in her body. I move a hand off the wheel to pinch her nipple. Twist it, then brush the hardened peak between my fingers.

It helps that she’s not wearing a bra.

It also upsets me to no end that she went out into the street like that. Where the rest of the world got a glimpse of what’s ours.

“Please, stop.” She’s sighing at my touch, her frantic movements slowing.

“Sit back down,” I repeat.

We’re at a red light, which allows me to take her hand in mine, suck on her middle finger. I push it into her mouth and thank fuck, that does it. She leans back to settle in her seat.

“You’re cheating,” she whispers when I tug on her wrist.

“I’m a lawyer.” I open the button of her jeans and shove her wet fingers beneath the waistline of her panties. “I manipulate the system for a living.”

Good fucking God, now I’m jealous of her fingers. Jealous and turned on.

“Rub yourself. Make it feel good and don’t you dare stop.” We’re driving again, the damn road demanding my attention. “You were going to see Rex? Why the fuck would you do that?”

Betrayal. I hate the notion. Resent it.

Quinlan didn’t run off to warn Rex. She couldn’t have.

She’s been acting strange when she thinks we’re not watching. Her lips curl in disgust as she stares out the window. She tugs on her hair while she works. Yesterday, when I spied on her from my office, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She swiped at it fast.

I caught her regardless.

Her moans suck me back to the present moment.

“Enough.” I curl my fingers around her wrist, tugging on it.

The car is filled with the scent of her arousal. What an absolute agony it is to stay focused on the road, to not get down on my knees and lick it off her.

I need her to talk. I need that more than I need to make her come, and that’s saying a lot.

“Rex,” I grit out, sounding like the kid I was eons ago.

The boy who snapped at the sight of his foster siblings’ bleeding abdomen. At their tears.

Quinlan didn’t hurt anyone. Least of all me.

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