In the dark, with the kitten’s purr providing a constant, low backdrop, Q tells me how he found her. Wet, cold, probably only a few hours away from death. “I was in the middle of a panic attack. Checking the cameras every two or three minutes, completely unable to pull myself out of it, and then I heard her crying. She’d wedged herself against the front door, and I couldn’t see her, but that little meow was so desperate, it helped me focus. The second I picked her up, she started purring, and didn’t stop the whole rest of the night. I think she saved me as much as I saved her.”
“A friend of mine has a dog like that. Ripper and Charlie are never far from one another, and the German Shepherd is the most perceptive animal I’ve ever known. Maybe one day, you can meet him. Them.”
Q sucks in a sharp breath. “I…I can’t go anywhere…outside…I don’t. Please—” Clementine meows and starts kneading the bed even harder, like she knows he’s upset, and I run my lips along the shell of his ear.
“I won’t pressure you, baby.” This time, I know exactly what I’m saying and why I’m saying it. I care for Quinton more than I’ve cared for anyone other than my family—both the one I was born into and the one I’ve found at Hidden Agenda, and whatever he needs, I’ll give him. “If you never step foot outside these four walls again, I’ll bring the world to you. Or keep it all away. Whatever you need to feel safe.”
He falls silent, and though I have so many questions, I keep them to myself. We have time. For now, this is enough.
Chapter Fifteen
Quinton
The scentof coffee wafts up the stairs, and a minute later, Graham saunters into the room, wearing only his briefs, and I stare at the man who rocked my entire world simply byseeingme.
“‘Morning, gorgeous.” He slides back into bed and passes me a mug. “How are you feeling? I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”
Taking a sip of coffee gives me a minute to choose my next words. “I have pain every day of my life, Graham. I probably always will. Even when I do everything right, there’s a chance I’ll wake up and it’ll just be a bad day. So you can’t worry every time I wince or limp or have to use the chair lift to get up or down the stairs.”
He leans his head on my shoulder, a move that’s surprisingly intimate, even after everything we shared last night. “I know a couple of guys with chronic pain. Ry—my boss at Hidden Agenda—is the toughest person I’ve ever met. But when he was in the Special Forces, he and his team were captured and tortured for fifteen months. The man knows exactly how many bones they broke, for fuck’s sake. He powers through, but there are days I can tell.”
We sit with our coffee in silence, our legs tangled together. “This morning? My pain’s a four out of ten. On my best days, it’s a two. On my worst, an eight. But those are rare.”
“Q?” Graham sets his mug down and rests his hand on my thigh. “You told mewhathappened. But nothow.”
My shoulders hike up to my ears, and Graham shifts a little closer.
“I work with a Navy SEAL, an Army Ranger sniper, and a team leader for the Special Forces. You know the first thing each one of them taught me?”
I meet his gaze, those blue eyes so serious, yet full of compassion. I want to kiss that dimple under his lower lip and run my hands over his chest to trace each one of those defined muscles. But more than that, I want toknowhim. “What?”
“You trust your team. With anything. With everything. No lying. No secrets.”
“And I’m ‘your team’? We only met ten days ago.”
“Q.” He frames my face with his hands, and they’re so warm and strong, I close my eyes and savor the moment. Until he kisses me, and I want to lose myself in him. With him. “I told you I didn’t want this to be a casual fuck. I’ve had enough of those in my life.”
“How many?” The question slips out before I can stop myself.
“Seven. Eight, maybe. Didn’t exactly keep count of my Tinder hook-ups, but I don’t think I had more than six of those.” Dropping one hand so he can twine our fingers, he lifts his brows. “You?”
“You know my number,” I say quietly. “Two before…andhim.”
“You’ve only dated three guys? Shit, Q. Why? You’re gorgeous, smart—”
“Stop.” I ease myself out of bed, bracing my hand on the wall until I find my balance. “I’m broken, Graham. Always have been. Even before Alec got a hold of me. Crowds. Traffic. Loud noises. I was only diagnosed with anxiety four years ago. No one wants to date a nut job who can’t handle going out to a bar or a fancy restaurant. Concerts. Baseball games.”
Graham scoots across the bed, his abs flexing with the movement. Then his arms wind around my waist and he presses his forehead to mine. “You’re not broken, Q. And I don’t care what yournumberis. The guys I fucked? They were a way to blow off steam. Before I found my place at Hidden Agenda. Before I knew who I was. And who I wanted to be.”
My eyes burn, and the overwhelming emotion he stirs in me raises a lump in my throat. I’d give anything to have his confidence. His grace. To be as sure of who I am as he seems to be. But maybe…it doesn’t matter. Because he’s here. With me.
“This? What I think we’re building?” he whispers. “It’s real. And it sure as hell doesn’t end when I walk out your front door in an hour. If the past few years have taught me anything, it’s that the parts of us we think are broken? Those are the parts that make us who we are.”
* * *
Graham
“I need to drive out to Ellensburg today to pick up five cases of MREs. It’s a ninety minute drive. You could come with me?” We’re in the shower, and I have my arm wrapped around Q’s waist, holding him against me, his back to my front, as I slowly stroke up and down his shaft.
