Her jaw tightens. "I'm right here."
"You were," I say. "For a second you weren't."
She doesn’t say anything but she doesn’t need to. Daire. It always comes down to that fucking bitch and I can’t help but wonder what she’s done to Quinn to make her doubt herself. But that bitch isn’t getting tonight. Hell fucking no. No more. She’s taken enough and Quinn needs to understand that she’s my wife, not Daire. Quinn is.
I move and she makes a mewling sound in the back of her throat, her hands glide down my back, her nails dragging over my skin. I feel her start to lose it, that careful control unraveling with every thrust of my cock, with every shift of my body against hers, and I don't let her pull it back together. Every time I feel her tense, I find the angle that wrecks her, the rhythm that pulls her apart, and she stops trying to be quiet.
She’s mewling and whimpering, and I can tell that she’s getting close, her whole body arches, straining against me, her thighs locking around my waist, and she holds on as she detonates, her pussy clenching around my cock as she falls apart, taking me with her.
I pull out and go to the bathroom to clean up. Once I’m done, I pull on my pajama pants while she cleans up. When she returns she's quiet and I know that whatever we just shared is long gone. She climbs onto the bed, dressed in a nightie, and has her back to me, curled up in a ball.
It doesn’t take long until I hear her breathing even out and she’s asleep. But it doesn’t come easy for me. I'm on my back, staring at the ceiling. I can feel the heat of her body beside me, there’s space between us and I have a feeling if Quinn had her way, there’d be an ocean between us.
This evening was a huge clusterfuck. The shit with Daire was out of line, and partly that was my fault. I should have pushed her away. I knew better than to let that viper get close, but I fucked up and the hurt look on Quinn’s face isn’t something that I’m going to forget and it’s going to be a hard line back from what happened this evening.
Tomorrow everything that happened will still be there, hanging above us like a stormy cloud until we sort it out. But tonight I chose her. I needed her to know that I chose her. I told her Daire didn't get to have this and I fucking meant it.
I'm not sure it's enough and I'm not sure she believes it is either.
But she's here, and the space between us is small enough, at least, that I can feel the warmth of her. It's not enough. I know it's not enough, but it's our starting point.
Quinn's awake when I open my eyes. I spot her sitting at the table, her bare feet on the chair, her knees pulled to her chest. She's focused on the window, looking out onto the city. At the moment, she has no idea that I’m awake and watching her. I take the opportunity, assessing her. It’s very rare that I get to see her so unguarded. She’s fucking gorgeous, that has never been in question. She’s stunning and I know that every single man and woman at our wedding yesterday was jealous that she is my wife.
I sit up and my movement has her looking my way, her eyes wide but emotionless and I fucking hate that she’s guarded again.
"Morning," I say.
"Morning,” she replies, just as emotionless as her eyes.
"I'll have someone bring breakfast," I say as I get to my feet. I need to shower and get ready for the day.
"I'm fine."
"You should eat."
Anger flashes in her eyes. "I said I'm fine."
I hold her gaze for a moment, trying to decide if it’s worth an argument. I know Quinn. She’ll fight me tooth and nail on almost anything. After last night, and the fact that her eyes are puffy from her tears, I decide to let it go. This isn’t worth the fight.
"I’m going to shower. If you change your mind about breakfast, just call down to reception and they’ll sort it out.” I don’t wait for her to answer. I know she won’t. She’s closed off today. I make my way to the bathroom and get ready for the day ahead.
I have a feeling that it’s going to be a fucking tiring one.
When I leave the bridal suite an hour later, I’m surprised to see Daithi waiting for me. He’s resting against the wall a little way down the corridor. He looks at me the moment I close the door to the suite.
"How is she?" he demands.
"She's fine."
"That's not an answer."
"Daithí—"
"I saw her face last night when she came back from the terrace." He steps toward me, his voice is low and menacing. If I were a lesser person, I’d be cowering at his tone. "Whatever happened out there, I saw what it did to her. I've been watching people tear her apart for her entire life and I know the look." He stops in front of me. "What the fuck did you do?"
"Nothing happened with Daire?—"
"I know nothing happened with Daire." He says it with absolute certainty, which is a relief that someone fucking believes me. "Daire cornered you in a compromising position so that Quinn would see it. She's been doing it since they were children." His jaw tightens. "The question is what you did, because Quinn came back in there looking like she'd been hit, and you were nowhere to be found."
