Page 54 of Quinlan

“About that.” I lick the top row of my teeth. “Does buying an island count?”

“Buy any island you want, Damien.” Laurel laughs. She’s used to my bullshit. “We’re talking about a certain someone. A certain woman.”

“Yeah, is she, uh—walking among us?” A mangled way to ask if Quinlan’s alive from Jagger.

“She was always meant to be, assholes.”

“Cool, cool,” Jagger grunts.

“Keep that—” Laurel’s yawn cuts through her sentence. “Up. Don’t do anything crazy. She’s special to us too.”

Special. For them, maybe.

For me, she’s an obsession.

“Your bed and husband are calling,” I say instead of starting our usual banter. “And you, Jagger, go drink some water.”

They reply with a “Yes, Dad” in the same mocking tone at the same time and hang up.

Words, contracts, and bad intentions come next.

All a distraction until I go to Quinlan.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Damien

Liam:The lights at her apartment are out.

At fucking last.

I’m already showered and changed into a long-sleeved black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Shoes and black sneakers with soft soles that’d silence my footsteps on her hardwood floor. No belt or boxers, either.

I’m ready for her. Ready for this.

The three of us there, and her. Our Sleeping Beauty. She’ll wear our cum on her skin. On her full lips. Seeing it play out in my head disrupted my workflow. My concentration suffered.

I hadn’t even called Rome to tell him I didn’t care he kissed her first. I got over it. I couldn’t do anything except think about her.

And the wait is finally over.

I snatch my keys from the desk, typing as I walk to the elevators.

Me:Be there soon.

Rome:Leaving home.

Good. He and I will get to talk once we’re all there.

In her bedroom.

While she sleeps.

The thought assaults me for the hundredth time this evening. I run my fingers through my damp hair and look at myself in the mirror. My blue eyes stare back at me, and the smirk returns.

We could take our plan to the next level. We could drug her.

Weshould. Once I start kissing her, I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop. A taste of her lips would do nothing to soothe the ache in my soul. The incessant craving will take over common sense.

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