“It looks like this is goodbye. For now,” he tells me, his annoying smirk returning. “Until next time, Quinn.”
Reid recovers his briefcase, and I’m trailing him to the door when a thought strikes me. “Wait!”
Reminiscent of our earlier encounter, Reid raises his hands in surrender. “What now?”
I get close enough to press the gun to his chest. Standing on tiptoe, I pinch his chin between a finger and thumb. The return of skin-to-skin contact sends a jolt through my body that Reid must feel too because the bastard’s smile broadens. Does he think I’m going to kiss him? “Open,” I command.
Understanding flickers across Reid’s face, and his jawslackens, but he still manages a smirk. He’s going to enjoy this.
I grimace as I push my pointer finger into his mouth, and as I explore the inside of a warm and wet cheek, Reid’s tongue strokes, and licks, and tastes me. The sensation makes the muscles in my core tense, but I ignore the need it awakens. I’d been wrestling with that particular urge earlier when he was lying on top of me, and I know how to defeat it. I just have to think of all the people who were exploited to pay for his custom-made suit, or the Griffins’ private jet.
Trailing my fingertip beneath his wandering tongue, I move to the other side of his mouth. Reid’s eyes twinkle, but I won’t be distracted. Finally, I find the strands of hair Reid had bitten off during our tussle. I quickly withdraw my finger and wipe my hand on my leggings.
Reid glances over my shoulder towards Clara. God knows what she thinks is going on, or what excuse I’m going to have to come up with to explain letting Reid suck my finger. At least I’ve deprived the Griffins of their DNA sample.
“Now you can go.”
Rather than stepping away, Reid leans in closer. His hand rests on my arm as he whispers, “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.”
“Go to hell, Reid,” I reply. My mouth is close to his ear when I add, “And fuck you too, Mace. The only thing you need to know about me is that I’m your worst nightmare.”
By the time I reach the kitchen, Clara’s tremors have transferred to me.
“Here, drink this,” she says, setting down a shot glass on the oak table.
I take a sniff. I’m not a particular fan of whiskey, but I swallow it in two gulps. Heat flares at the back of my throat then travels down to dissolve the band of tension constricting my chest. When I’m able to breathe deeply, I free myself from the memory of having Reid’s arousal pressed against my stomach.
“Why did you call him a kid? He’s not that much younger than us.” I ask as I picture Reid’s face hovering over mine. Such a handsome face too, and those dazzling green eyes.
“He’s a kid compared to the other brothers,” Clara says as she pours herself a shot. “I pray they won’t decide to show up too. Assuming they’re not here already.” She lifts her glass to her lips then thinks better of it. “I might collect Piper from Pre-K early. I could bring her back here if you don’t want to be alone?”
“Or you could take the rest of the day off. Tandy and I can manage on our own, and I’m sure Barrett wouldn’t mind,” I say, but my stomach drops. I need to let our boss know what’s happened. “It’s not you he’ll be mad at. I was the one who told him Ridgemont Solutions checked out.”
“He’ll be angry, but not at you,” Clara assures me. “You were assaulted, Quinn.”
“Technically, I made the first move. It was my gun, Clara,” I admit. “He had to disarm me.”
I’m relieved when she seems more impressed than shocked. “He wouldn’t have needed to disarm you if he hadn’t sneaked in here under false pretenses. You should phone Barrett. He needs to know,” she says, nodding to my cell balanced on top of my purse. “I can stay if you want some moral support?”
“No, you go,” I insist. There’s another, more urgent call I need to make first, and one I don’t want Clara to hear.
As she gathers her things, my plans for privacy are dashed when Jason storms into the kitchen.
“One of the guys says we had an intruder,” he says. “Did he hurt you?”
He’s looking at Clara. “Quinn took care of him,” she says with a note of pride.
“Those useless fucking security gua–” Jason doesn’t need to see the warning glare I aim in his direction. Those useless security guards were Clara’s husband’s colleagues. “Sorry, Clara.”
“No apology necessary,” she says. “If Ethan were alive, he’d be having strong words with them.”
“Are you leaving? Do you need a lift anywhere?” he asks.
I’m tempted to wave at Jason to remind him that I’m the one who was accosted, but it suits my purposes for his attentions to be pulled elsewhere. Clara, on the other hand, is less impressed.
“I have my car, Jason,” she says, hooking her purse over her shoulder. “And if you want to be of help, you could keep Quinn company until Tandy gets back from the grocery store. She’s had a scare.”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. When Clara goes to insist, I add, “Honestly, I’d be more anxious having Jason trail mud through the house. I’m going to lock myself in my office. I’ll be fine.”
