“There are some things we need to get straight,” I say, but then I take a breath of air laced with an achingly familiar scent, and my thoughts are immediately derailed. “You smell of roses.”
Confusion knits Quinn’s brow. “What?”
Mace clears his throat loudly. I need to get back on track, but I’m being assaulted by unexpected emotion, transported back to the house where I grew up. My dad had planted the rose bushes that Mom lovingly tended, and when cancer took her from us, the roses had withered. So had my dad. We lost them both within the space of a year.
Quinn’s scent reminds me of love and loss, and I have an overwhelming urge to handle my enemy as if she were as fragile as one of Mom’s blooms.
“Reid?”
I forget I’m supposed to be restraining Quinn, and when my grip loosens, she acts fast and drops to the floor. I manage to keep hold of the sleeves of her gym top, but she simply raises her arms and slips out of it. I’m left holding a piece of Lycra.
I know what’s coming and I step back so the punch she aims at my crotch misses its mark. Her fist connects with my tensed thigh instead, and judging by her cry, it hurts her more than it hurts me.
Her flaming eyes briefly meet mine as she kneels in front of me in her white lace bra. The steep rise and fall ofher chest is mesmerizing, and my body responds in the most inappropriate way.
Quinn doesn’t pause long enough to notice my thickening cock. She leaps to the side, swinging out a leg in an attempt to hook it around my knee to topple me. Thankfully, not all of my blood has been diverted away from my brain and I manage to dodge it. As well as being an avid gardener, Mom was a yoga teacher, and thanks to her training, my movements remain centered.
There’s still no way I can compete with Quinn’s agility, but I’m built on a scale she can’t outmaneuver. When I dive for her, my tackle isn’t graceful, but it is controlled. I twist as we fall, taking the brunt of the impact, then continue to roll so I have her pinned face down on the floor.
Quinn fights back, and I ease off just enough for her to twist onto her back so we’re facing each other again. My legs straddle hers, and I hook my feet around her calves so she can’t kick out.
Before I can pin her arms down, she goes on the attack. She slips her hand between us, aiming for my weakest point. I’m tempted to let her go ahead and grab my cock, but I’m almost certain this isn’t foreplay.
I drop my weight back onto her chest, cutting off her access to my genitals. And oxygen.
“I think we’re going to have to get to know each other a little better before I let you hold my dick.”
“OK, now you’re going to have to explain what the hell is going on.”
“Fuck you,” Quinn wheezes.
I ease the pressure on her until her face is a little less puce. “Who do you work for?”
She rolls her eyes. “Barrett.”
“Who else?”
“Myself,” she hisses. “Who do the Griffins work for?”
I tilt my head. Whoever conditioned her to hate us did a good job, but her reeducation starts here. “Anyone who needs our help.” As I adjust my position, I will my erection to go down, but moving makes me even more aware of where our bodies connect. It doesn’t help that the scent of roses is intoxicating. “Do you need my help, Quinn?”
“Reid, if you’re fucking hitting on her…”
“What I need is for you to lift up and stop pressing your fucking erection into me!” Quinn hisses.
“Are you on top of her?”asks Mace. He pauses.“Actually, that’s good. This doesn’t have to be a complete disaster. If you can cut off some of her hair, I might be able to do a DNA trace.”
Does my brother think I carry around a pair of hairdressing scissors? “Right now, I’m more likely to leave a sample of my own,” I mutter, groaning as I have to adjust myself again.
“What the hell?” Quinn hisses. She might not be able to hear Mace, but from the look of disgust on her face that I’m sure my brother shares, she’s figured out what sample I’m referring to.
When I lean in, her eyes widen. She thinks I’m about to kiss her and snaps her head to the side. Quinn has multiple piercings in her ear, and my nose brushes the stud in the upper cartilage. “Sorry about this,” I whisper before curling my tongue around a few strands of her hair. I bite down and slice through them with my incisors.
In possession of the precious DNA sample, I should call it quits, but I’m enjoying this moment of calm. Quinn isn’t resisting, and I’m tempted to turn this fightinto a very different kind of wrestling match. Unfortunately, I don’t think Quinn and I are on the same page. Not yet.
I straighten my arms and as my chest lifts off hers, something cold touches my temple.
“Get off her before I blow your brains out,” a woman says.
