Page 34 of Wicked S.O.B.

By the time Quinn walks through the door, the red wine I selected to go with our meal is open and breathing on the kitchen counter.

I pour two glasses and offer him one when he enters the kitchen. “Hi,” I say with a smile.

He takes the glass but he doesn’t immediate drink. He sets it down, pulls me into his arms, and rubs his nose against mine. “Hello, beautiful. The rest of my afternoon was fucking hell without you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I respond with a teasing smile.

“Show me,” he growls.

I wind one arm around his neck and tug him down to me. I press my body to the hard-packed perfection of his, and my mouth to his, sliding my tongue inside his mouth and shamelessly French-kissing the hell out of him. His ragged groan tells me I’ve succeeded. “Better?”

“Barely,” he says, but he draws away to pick up his glass.

“Dinner will be here in ten.”

He nods and takes a drink before his piercing eyes return to my face. My breath catches a little from the sheer beauty of his. And also from the awareness that I’m about to receive a verbal spanking for a transgression.

“Lionel tells me you took a cab home today when you left me,” he starts.

Damn. “Yes, I did. He was stuck in traffic, and I didn’t want to stress him out.”

Quinn’s eyes narrow. “It’s his job to be stressed out about getting you home safely. It’s your job to let that happen so I don’t freak the hell out when I find out. You should’ve waited.”

“I’m here in one piece, baby. And you don’t look particularly freaked out.”

His jaw flexes once before he visibly exhales. “Probably because I’m trying very, very hard to be better, Elyse. But some things continue to be nonnegotiable. Your safety is one of them. Tell me you get that. Please.”

His solemn tone kills any argument I intended to mount, even as guilt burns fiercer. “Yes, Quinn. I get it.”

“Good.” He sips his wine again and then drags me close. “I need one more kiss, please.”

“Just one?”

“It’ll do for starters. But I reserve the right to demand a fuck-load more of it when it pleases me.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply, and shamelessly pucker up.

He chuckles and then pounces on my lips once more. He tastes of wine and man and everything I desire in this world.

We’re still kissing when the buzzer announces the arrival of our meal. The scheming look Quinn sends me when he lifts his head suggests he’s thinking of postponing dinner.

I playfully push him away. Or attempt to anyway. “No way. I’m starving.”

He smacks my ass. “You’re always starving. You’d think I don’t feed you enough.”

“What can I say? You’re awesome for my appetite.”

His gorgeous smile disperses the last of the slightly tense issue of me taking the cab. He goes to get the door while I save the garlic bread from a singed death.

Dinner is eaten in the kitchen over casual conversation and the remainder of the excellent bottle of Bordeaux. We make plans for the weekend, which I’m thrilled to hear includes a night of dinner and dancing at XYNYC, the nightclub Quinn silently partners with his friend Axel Rutherford.

We’ve gotten to know Axel and his pregnant girlfriend, Cleo, over the last six months. The guy is almost as intense as Quinn, and I wondered at first whether they would remain friends. But their dynamic seems to work, and I enjoy Cleo’s company, although at almost full term in her pregnancy, I haven’t seen much of her lately.

After dinner, we move to the sofa. Quinn turns on music but the lights stay dimmed so we can better enjoy the stunning views of New York City. Through the pounding lyrics of Garbage, he undresses me and lays me out on the sofa. The sex isn’t as frenzied as it was in his office this afternoon, but it’s still powerful and electric and punctuated with a lovingly expressive Quinn, enough to bring tears to my eyes every time my many orgasms hit.

Eventually, we fall asleep, spent, with our limbs intertwined on the sofa.

Chapter Nine

---