I wiggle my fingers, and the camera shuts off. I flop back on the bed with a groan.
The phone on the bedside table begins ringing, so I scoot backward and yank the receiver to my ear.
“Terribly sorry that this hasn’t gone to plan,” Jim says into my ear. He doesn’t even give me a chance to greet him before launching into an explanation. “Our final bidder was very...adamant. We tried to dissuade him, but he seemed to want an evening with you very badly.”
“This could work in our favor. Men tend to want something more when they’ve been denied it. This might force Desmond to make a move.”
Jim sighs into the phone. “Yes, well, for your sake, I hope his desiredoesn’toverwhelm him and force him to act.”
“Wouldn’t that be ideal?”
“For us? Yes. But despite what you believe, your safety is important to us. We don’t want any harm to befall you.”
Because I’m a Carter. . .
“You’re important to someone who is important to me, and I refuse to let harm come to you.” Fabric shuffles on the other end of the line, and someone says something to Jim. It’s a male voice, but I can’t make out the words, though I hear the lilt of an accent. It must be King. “I’ve just been informed that your guest is on his way to your room, but he’s coming by here first. Try to relax and enjoy your evening, and remember that you’ll have complete privacy from prying eyes.”
“Wait!” I shout before he can hang up. “Aven will be watching, won’t he? I get that we don’t think this guy is Desmond, but that doesn’t mean I’m not at risk.”
“Oh, yes. Aven will be payingveryclose attention,” Jim grumbles before the line disconnects.
I set the receiver back in its cradle as Jim’s words linger in my head.Because you’re important to someone who is important to?—
A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I stand and smooth the front of my teddy, then head for the door. No matter what happens tonight, I trust Aven will keep me safe. He hasn’t let me down yet.
Chapter Eighteen
Aven
The door swings open, and Quinn smiles up at me. “I was hoping it would be you,” she says, and the sincerity in her voice drives a knife through my soul.
She’s falling for the green stranger, notme. NotAven. If she knew who was hiding behind this monstrous green unitard from hell, she wouldn’t be so eager to invite me into her room.
But she doesn’t know, so she’s more than eager. She practically wrenches my wrist from my forearm as she yanks me into her lair.
I stumble to a stop inside and head for the chair. That little seat in the corner means safety. It puts distance between us. The arms on the sides will prevent her from straddling my waist and pulling my soul from my body like some sex-starved succubus. I’m genuinely scared.
But before I can plop my ass onto the cushion, she reaffirms her iron hold and guides me toward the bed. The girl wants to fuck a killer more than she wants to take her next breath, andif I hadn’t taken that final bid, she might have gotten either outcome. Or both.
It was stupid of me, but I couldn’t help myself. In those last thirty seconds, I called Jim and told him he could take a cut from my bonus. Hell, I told him he could take the entire thing. Not so that I can sleep with her, of course. I just want to make sure she’s safe, and I don’t think letting her spend the night with Desmond would have netted that result. Jim didn’t like it, but he’s also a fair man. He allowed the final bid at zero hour, and I won an evening with the girl.
Now what?
I may not have thought this far ahead, but I can tell what she has in mind. As I sit beside her on the edge of the bed, her hand traces soft, lazy lines up my forearm. Goosebumps rise beneath the millimeter of nylon fabric separating me from her touch, and my cock strains against my boxer briefs and pokes through the embarrassing hole I ripped in the suit during my last visit.
Quinn notices, and her hand moves toward my crotch. I want her to grip my dick, but not like this. Not under false pretenses, when she doesn’t know whose dick she’s grabbing. I jump to my feet before her slender fingers can grace my manhood.
With a shake of my head, I show her the tablet in my hand. I knew I’d need some way to communicate other than head nods and hand signals. There’s no telling how long it took Grim and Rose to learn to speak the way they have, but we lack the time and patience. I pull out the Apple Pencil and scrawl a note on the screen.
I just want to spend time with you. No sex.
Quinn reads the message and sits back a bit. Her shoulders sag, and while I’ve seen my share of disappointment after I’ve turned a woman down, I’ve never seen someone represent theemotion so fully. Her lower lip pokes out, not in that fake pout I’ve seen so often, but in a genuine show of hurt.
I erase the message and think of something that might ease the ache a bit.
Could we cuddle?
I almost jotted “lass” at the end, but I caught myself and popped the question mark into place instead. When I turn the tablet to face her, some light returns to her eyes.
