Braving His Past: An Away From Keyboard Romantic Suspense Standalone Page 13

  Deeper now, I start to twist and stretch him gently, my gaze never leaving his face. “You’re going to feel so fucking good wrapped around me,” I say as I add a second finger, and I’m rewarded with a shudder and a choked moan.

  I’m thicker than he is, but Q wins on length. God, I need this like I need my next breath. It’s so much more than just a quick fuck, because he hasn’t stopped looking at me either. Not once.

  “Don’t stop,” he begs. The corners of his eyes crinkle with a hint of pain, and I ease back an inch, lessening the bend in his leg until all I can see is pleasure. He’s ready for me—at least I hope he is—but I need to kiss him first.

  Crushing my mouth to his, I don’t know who wants this more. Q scores his teeth along my bottom lip, and fuck. I want to know what it feels like to have him suck me off. When I pull back so I can find the condom, he cups the back of my neck, holding me still. “You see me.”

  Those three words shatter my heart, because they’re filled with such wonder. I swear, if I ever meet the asshole who hurt him, I’m going to make him pay for every terrible thing he did to this beautiful, strong, and haunted man.

  “I see you.” Repeating my promise, I slide the condom over my dick. I’m so on edge, I don’t know how I’m going to last once I’m inside him. “Relax, Q. I’ll go slow.”

  He hisses as my crown slips past the tight ring of muscle, and I cant my hips slowly, driving a little deeper each time. Despite having just found release a few minutes ago, he’s hard again, and I take my slick fingers and wrap them around his shaft.

  “Oh, God,” he moans and tries to thrust into my palm.

  “I’ve got you.” Sliding my hand along his hard length in time with my hips, I know the second I bottom out and find his prostate. His body bucks, and his pupils go wide as he whimpers and moans, no longer capable of actual words.

  I’m so fucking close, my entire body’s coiled tighter than a spring, but watching Q’s face, seeing how he’s straining to hold on, to keep his gaze focused on me…it’s beautiful. “Let…go…” I manage, and when he does, the intense spasms of his tight muscles around my dick send me over the edge right after him.

  Q stares at me, his brown eyes wide and slightly glassy as I ease myself out of him. “Stay here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

  The term of endearment slips out, and he blinks, hard, uncertainty written all over his face. Too much, too soon. But a part of me doesn’t care, because the connection I’ve found with him? The heat? The passion? We’re not one and done. I want a lot more with him than just tonight.

  With a warm, wet washcloth and towel in my hands, I return to the bed, but before I can finish, he stops me with his hand on mine. “I can do it.”

  “I know you can. But it’s not weakness to let someone else take care of you a little. Especially not after…that. Because, whoa.”

  He chuckles, breaking this fresh tension between us, and when I’m done, we climb under the covers, and I wrap my arms around him. “Was that okay?” I ask.

  “That was a hell of a lot better than ‘okay.’ That was amazing.” With a sigh, he snuggles closer. “Will you stay?”

  Did he really think I was planning on leaving? After what we shared? “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you ask me to.”

  Reaching up to turn off the light, he whispers, “Good. This…I’ve missed this.”

  “What?” His hair tickles my cheek as I press a kiss to the back of his neck. “Sex? Or—?”

  “Being held. Being touched.” His voice trembles slightly, and I tuck my legs up so they’re against his. “I wanted to be alone for a long time, Graham. Needed it. Until I met you.”

  “You’re not alone.” As if to prove my point—or claim her position in this house—Clementine jumps up onto the bed with a mrrp, curls up right next to Q’s bent knees, and starts purring. “Pretty sure Clementine took offense at that.”

  “Nah,” he says. “She just hates not being the center of attention.”

  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 scent of 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 by seeing me.

  “‘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 me what happened. But not how.”

  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 to know him. “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…and him.”

  “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 your number is. 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.

  He stiffens, but not in the way I hope. “I can’t. Graham…” Turning, he stares down to where our bodies touch and chokes back a sob. “You know I don’t go outside. Only to the dumpster, and even then…there are days I can’t.”

  “Look at me, baby. Please?” I won’t force him. Not to meet my gaze, not to go outside, not to do anything, and I desperately need him to understand that. “Quinton?”

  Slowly, he raises his head, and his shame breaks my heart. “I’m not disappointed, not mad. It’s just me in an SUV for three hours with a five minute stop. I thought it might be easier if you didn’t have to be among people. If it were just the two of us.”

  Q’s shaking now, and I turn him so the spray hits his back. With a shuddering breath, he buries his face in the curve of my neck. “It’s still leaving the only place I feel safe. Before…Alec, I could go to a quiet bar or have a drink with friends. But he shrank my world down to nothing.”

  “How?”

  Q flinches and pulls away, grabbing the shampoo and vigorously washing his hair. I think I’ve lost him until the words start to tumble from his lips so quickly, like he’s trying to get them all out before he shuts down.

  “Little things. Digs that my apartment was too small, it was too hard to find parking, so we always went to his place. He never let me pick when we ordered takeout. He’d put down my friends—not to their faces, but to me—and he never wanted to hang out with them. After a few months, I was so alone, and I thought…he convinced me…that I needed him. That he was the only one who understood me.”

  “Fuck, Q. That’s straight up abuse. You know that, right?”

  The look he shoots me over his shoulder makes me feel all of three inches tall. “No shit. But that’s what abusers do. And Alec…it got so much worse than that.”

  There’s only one way it could possibly be worse.

  “Did he hit you?”

  “No. Never.” He slumps against the shower wall, his eyes closed. “Ever heard the term gaslighting?”

  Warning bells go off in my head. Images of Ripper in the days after we rescued him. Ry used the term a time or two. “Yeah. It’s making you doubt your own judgment, right?”

  “Not exactly.” After a shuddering breath, he swipes a sudsy trail of shampoo from his forehead. “Gaslighting is when an abuser makes you question your own sanity.” He returns to scrubbing his hair like he’s trying to scour the memories from his head, and I gently cover his hands with mine. This strong, brave, man crumbles in my arms, hoarse, choking sobs wracking his body, and I hold him so he won’t fall. The water’s starting to cool by the time he gets it all out, and I ease him out of the shower and wrap him in a towel before drying myself off and leading him back to the bed.

  Q huddles under the blankets shivering while I sit next to him. I’m ready to tell him he doesn’t need to say another word when he clears his throat. “Alec doesn’t feel emotions like normal people do. No remorse, no guilt, no compassion. Life is one big game to him. One he always has to win. And I tried to leave him, but after I fell…”

  Another wave of tears and he curls onto his side. Clementine wedges herself under his chin, and I take my own position at his back so I can hold him.

  “How did you get out?” I ask when his sobs fade.

  “My brother. If it weren’t for Connor…” He swipes at his cheeks, brushing away the tears, and buries his face in Clementine’s fur. “Alec took everything from me. And now, I don’t know how to find myself again.”

  I’d give anything to reassure him. To tell him he’s already found himself in so many ways, taken back so much of his life. But instead, I say nothing. Just hold him so he knows he’s not alone.

  An hour later, he flips open the locks one at a time. He’s tense. Has been ever since he told me about Alec, but I at least got him to smile when I found one of Clementine’s toys and had her leaping and doing backflips as she chased a ball with a bell inside.

  The morning sun brightens his front porch, and the way he’s looking at it—the longing in his eyes—it breaks me. “How far can you go?” I ask softly, my hand clasped around his.

  “Two steps. Just to the mailbox.”

  “In three, you’d be in the sun.” I cross the threshold, still holding his hand, our arms outstretched. “I’d like to kiss you in the sun. But only if you want that too.”

  Q’s lips press together in a hard, thin line. I expect him to shake his head, but before I can return to his side to say goodbye to him properly, he joins me.

  His breath stutters in his chest, and I rest my free hand over his heart. “You can do this, baby. One more? Together?”

  His nod does something to my heart. I can’t describe it, except to say it’s warm and reassuring and right.

  We move as one, and when the sun hits his face, the corners of his lips tug up slightly. Sliding my hand from his chest up to his neck, I thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him so thoroughly, my dick rockets to attention, straining against my zipper.

  He’s breathless too by the time my phone buzzes in my pocket. Likely West wondering where the hell I am and why I haven’t picked up Hidden Agenda’s SUV yet. “I have to go,” I say against his lips. “And I have to cover for one of the other bartenders at the Unicorn for the next two nights. But I want to see you again. Soon.”

  Q rests his forehead against mine. “I’d like that.”

  My phone rings again, and I roll my eyes. “If I don’t get going, West will have my ass. Text me. Any time. Or call. You decide what you want to do on Tuesday night, and I’ll make it happen. Okay?”

  He nods as I release him and walk backwards down the ramp. I might be falling for this guy. Harder than I thought possible. Because watching him stand in the sun? Seeing the pure joy on his face as he tips his head and basks in the warm light? It feels an awful lot like what I always imagined love to be.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Quinton

  Those few minutes in the sun? Pure joy. Until I scanned the street and saw a blond, bearded man turn the corner and stare at me, his phone pressed to his ear.

  It doesn’t matter that I’ve never seen him before. That after five seconds, he continues walking without giving me a second look. I’m still too panicked to do anything but lurch back inside, s
lam the door, and flip all the locks before my chest is so tight, it’s hard to breathe.

  The day is mostly a lost cause. Other than feeding Clementine and throwing her favorite fishy toy every time she drops it in my lap, I can’t manage to focus on anything but binge watching Parks and Recreation.

  Graham texts me a handful of times, sending me pictures of the vast emptiness only an hour outside of Seattle. It’s beautiful, in a haunting sort of way, and I wish I were strong enough to see it.

  By the time the sun sets, I feel almost normal again, and I sink into my massage chair with my laptop to check my email.

  “Oh my God.” Zen Oasis is already live on all the mobile app stores, and the sales numbers… It’s a good thing I’m sitting down. They’re in the thousands. After only a day.

  My dream—the one I gave up on for so long—is coming true, and my eyes burn as I blink back tears. Clementine mrrps from where she’s curled up at my feet, and I reach down to rub her belly. “You know what a big deal this is, sweetie? It means he didn’t win. I did.”

  Running some sales projections, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. If they’re even close to accurate, I should be able to cover my living expenses within three months and have enough money left to pay my brother back.

  Alec ran up close to ten thousand dollars in debt on my credit cards, and Connor wiped the slate clean, paid for the rehab facility, and pre-paid six months of rent on this place. Hell, he covered the cost of the chair lift and the kick ass security system too.

  I protested everything, but he waved me off. “I let you down,” he said every time I tried to refuse. “Let me make it up to you.”

  If only he understood that all I needed was to have my brother back.