Page 102 of Claim & Don't Tell

Thirty-Nine

BRADY

Quinn bantering with my brothers is the most natural thing I’ve ever seen. She’s always been around, but this is the first time I’ve really seen her be herself. No hiding behind sadness and longing. No running away when she feels like it’s too much to handle.

She has no trouble keeping up with the sarcasm Dylan throws out like candy at a parade, and she eases into more serious conversations with Austin like they’ve been doing it for years. Empty Chinese food containers are all over the coffee table, and I use it as an excuse to leave the room.

My skin pricks in awareness of Quinn’s eyes on me as I clean up the trash. I glance at her and she chews on her lip. That wide-eyed look, the one where she was terrified to meet my gaze, is gone, but I’m not sure I like the way she stares at me now any better. It’s almost as though she’s trying to dig inside my head to find my weak spots. Like she doesn’t completely trust me.

The heat of regret and shame crawls up my neck. I turn away before she can see it. “Be right back. Don’t stop the movie.”

“Will you bring popcorn?” Dylan asks.

“Sure.” Clutching the containers to my chest like a shield, I take slow, measured steps toward the exit. I hate this. I hate that I did this. I hate her being so close but being so far away. More than anything, I hate that I was so wrong. She’s not bad for my brothers. She accepts Austin’s overbearing nurturing with a happy smile, and she stares down Dylan’s wildness without flinching.

She let them do whatever they wanted with her body.

And the way she’d glance over to make sure I was watching will live rent-free in my head. Those looks give me hope. She wants me to be good. She wants me to earn her forgiveness. But for maybe the first time in my life, I’m not sure I’ll be good enough.

Clenching my jaw, I toss everything in the trash and wash my hands before heading into the walk-in pantry. In the confines of the little closet, I clutch the shelves, letting them take most of my weight, and hang my head. The air is clearer in here, less tainted with the honey and musk of her scent. The reprieve is short-lived. Her perfume is so strong in the kitchen that it’s already started to permeate the air in the pantry.

“Fuck,” I growl, gripping the shelf a little tighter. “Get it fucking together, Brady.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” A voice, soft as a feather that somehow holds all the command of an alpha bark, hits me in the chest.

My muscles stiffen and I close my eyes. “I’ll have the popcorn out in a minute.”

Silence. I didn’t hear her come in, so maybe she left just as quietly. I lift my head, but Quinn is there, in the doorway, watching me with a line between her eyebrows. I take a breath and force myself to stand tall.

“Did you need something else?”

She tips her head, searching my face.

What does she want? What could she need that I don’t know about? Austin fed and kissed her. Dylan cuddled and teased her. She has everything.

“Quinn?”

She takes a step toward me, and I don’t know why it startles me—maybe because the last time she was within my reach, I ruined everything, or maybe it’s her being close and knowing I can’t touch her—but whatever the reason, I take a step back and into the shelf. The cans behind me knock together.

Quinn advances on me, and it’s like reverse déjà vu of when I found her right after she showered. She prowls toward me like I’d gone for her, determination written all over her face, and I press into the wall, like I can escape the torture of her scent. She stops mere inches away from me. Her nipples are hard under Dylan’s shirt, but I don’t read into it. That gorgeous brunette hair is a mess, and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through it, fixing every tangle.

Heart hammering in my chest, I struggle to breathe with her scent cloying around me. My hands ache to grab her and pull her against my chest. No. Forcing myself to stay as still as possible, I swallow the lump in my throat. Deep blue eyes hold mine, and I dive into the depths, seeing everything she isn’t saying.

This is what you did to me.

This is the torture I lived with.

This is my pain.

I want to sayI’m sorry, but it feels cheap, a dirty attempt to make it better when she always deserved so much more than I gave her. My muscles are trembling from restraint, and her gaze drops to the way my shoulders shudder.

The line between her eyebrows deepens, and she slowly returns her eyes to mine. She lifts onto her toes and presses her hands to my chest. That touch alone is like a damn bomb of euphoria exploding inside of me. Her lips hover over mine, andher eyelids flutter closed as she inhales my scent, humming in approval.

My cock is painfully hard, balls aching, but I hope to hell she can’t feel it. She’s not here for sex. She’s here to make a point.

Quinn’s eyes snap open and bore into mine. “Good boy,” she purrs before lightly pushing off my chest and taking a big step back. Her attention drops to my pants. I expect her to smirk or revel in her victory, but she simply stares at it for a moment before looking at me again. “Remember what you promised.”

You don’t come until I say so.

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