Jesus, this was like a psycho TV show that was way worse than The Walking Fucking Dead.
I needed to get my shit together and find her. Make her understand that I was sorry, that I wouldn't hurt her, that I'd do anything to make it up to her. Force her to understand I'd never betray her trust and I wasn't the one to tell Adam about Mackenzie.
I walked away while the guys called out my name and begged me to return. When the door shut behind me, I knew it was symbolic. I was done. No matter what happened between Quinn and me, there'd be no more parties, or villas in Key West, or fake friends who didn't even know who I was. I needed to start over and find a life for myself that was real.
I knew she'd be at the hotel. It didn't take me long to walk there, but even though I had her name and room number, they wouldn't let me into the building without a keycard. The news reporters were jacked up for a sniff of Mac, and it was a shitstorm. After a good forty minutes of staking out the hotel, I did what I do best: took one of the back doors, pressed a crapload of money into the hotel guard's hands, and got through. The stairwell took me to her floor, and I thanked God I didn't have to try to get to the penthouse, which would be Mission Fucking Impossible.
I knocked on Quinn's door. I figured she may not answer, but I'd wait outside her door until she had to leave.
"Quinn." I knocked firmly. "It's me. Please open up. I need to talk to you."
The silence rolled on.
"Quinn. You deserve to know the whole truth before you get on that damn plane. I'll answer all your questions. Please."
Silence.
"I'm staying out here all night if I have to. I'll follow you to the airport, and won't leave your side until you give me a few minutes. Please."
The door swung open.
I stepped into the room and my heart lurched. Her beautiful eyes were swollen and red from crying. Tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks, and her clothes were wrinkled, like she'd just gotten out of bed. A tight burning squeezed my chest until I felt close to tears myself.
"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered. "I fucked up. I never meant to hurt you."
"I know." She shuddered and walked to the side table to grab a bottle of water. She took a few sips and finally met my gaze. "Tell me about the bet."
I stood before her, ashamed, and told her the whole truth. "I was knocked out when I first saw you. Sexually attracted and intrigued. The guys were acting stupid, saying it would be impossible to get you into bed, and offered me a bet. Get you into bed by Friday and get proof. I agreed, but you have to believe me, Quinn, I cared nothing about the bet. The moment I talked to you, the wager went out of my head. It was always about you and getting close to you. Midweek, the guys called and asked me, and I told them the bet was off."
"Did you tell them we slept together?" she asked. Her hands wrapped around her stomach like she was trying to support herself. All I wanted was to take her into my arms and comfort her, but I didn't move. She'd probably give me a right hook if I tried to touch her right now--and I deserved it.
"No. I told them we never slept together, because I couldn't handle the crudity. Trying to make it about sex when it was more. So much more."
She pondered my words, staring back at me. Hope leaped. She believed me. I could tell in her eyes, she was disappointed but on the verge of accepting my confession as truth. "What about my underwear?"
I winced. What a nightmare. "That had nothing to do with it. I was getting my wallet out, and one of the guys grabbed for it, and your thong slipped out of my pocket. Stupid mistake. Before I knew it, Adam grabbed it and began waving it around."
"And the paparazzi? Did you tell Adam?"
"No. I'd never tell your secrets. I never even mentioned Mac to Adam. He must've seen her around the island and made the move himself. Do you believe me?"
She spoke very softly. "Yes."
Hope pounded through me. "I'll do anything you want, Quinn. I just want you to forgive me."
I held my breath. Finally, a sad smile crossed her face. "I do, James. I forgive you."
I ached to close the distance between us but something else was wrong. She didn't seem happy, and suddenly, tears filled her eyes. "Baby, please don't cry. What can I do?"
I moved toward her, but she jumped back again, and shook her head hard.
"No, don't come near me. I have to get this out. The bet was stupid and juvenile, but I believe it didn't mean anything to you. But this is much more than that. What about Austin?"
I jerked back. "What about him? I admit, I lost it. Got jealous. Are you going to tell me who he is?"
"He's Mac's guy. Only saw him a few times, but I was trying to get a hold of her, so I left him a message to take to her. He warned me about the reporters, so that's why we were talking." I relaxed. Thank God. I was right; she'd never betray me. "But you didn't believe me, did you? You let your friends humiliate me in that bar without saying a word. You got cold and accused me of trying to have more fun."
Shame flowed through me. Fuck. What a mess. "I don't know what happened. I freaked, but I would've calmed down eventually. I just needed time to work it through."
"It's more than that, James." Her voice broke. "Don't you understand? You don't believe in us. How can you, when you can't even believe in you?"
"That's ridiculous, of course I believe in us."
"No. You're lost. You deny you're an artist, surround yourself with people who don't know who you really are, and go through life thinking it's enough. You'd always be worrying if I was about to go on to the next big thing. You don't trust me. Maybe because we didn't get enough time."
"Don't say that. I got deeper into you than I ever imagined I could, and it's more than your body." Frustration roiled in my gut. I paced the hotel room, needing something to do. "I trust you. You're putting ideas and words in my mouth. I want to try this--try a real committed relationship with you."
"You're not ready." She lifted her chin, and the tears disappeared. All I saw was a distant, faded image of the woman I loved; the woman who screamed in my arms as I pounded into her; the woman who looked at me with her heart in her eyes. "You need to make some decisions with your life and figure out what you want. You can't do that with me at your side."
The knowledge she was slipping away from me right before my eyes made me crazed. With three long strides, I grabbed her shoulders and leaned over. The heat was still there simmering, the sexual energy an immediate flare, and her eyes darkened in response to my touch. "Am I not good enough for you?" I ground out. "Is this what it's about? You don't want me hanging around Chicago, messing up your chances to find someone who's worthy?"
Her face softened, and I knew I'd lost. "No," she whispered. "But you don't believe you're good enough for me. I can't fight that. This isn't going to work, James."
"It will. We'll make it fucking work."
I slammed my mouth over hers. My tongue thrust between her lush lips, and I drank her deep and hard, bending her over so I could ravage and plummet every inch of her mouth. She moaned under the assault, and hung on, responding so sweetly and completely I softened the kiss and let the sensations rock through me. I stopped trying to control the kiss, and just let myself feel. And it hurt.
She tasted fruity from the cocktails, and her skin heated beneath me. I smelled her arousal, and knew I could easily slip my fingers under her skirt and bring her to orgasm with a few strokes. Then she'd forget. I could make her forget. "You need to go," she managed to get out between kisses. "Let go of me and leave."
I released her and stumbled back, breathing hard. "Don't do this," I ground out. "Please."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and tried to hide her shaking. "I have to. I'm going home Saturday. Figure out what you want. Who you are. I can't do it for you."
My heart twisted. "You're leaving me?"
She chewed her lower lip. "I have to."
I almost sank to my knees to beg her to stay. I'd do anything. But then I realized it was too late. In some distant
part of my brain, I also realized she was right.
I had nothing to offer. I didn't know what I was doing.
I needed to let her go.
"I love you, Quinn."
With my words echoing in the air, I left the hotel room.
Friday
I'D LOST him.
I stayed in my hotel room most of the day by myself. Cassie and Mac both stopped in to babysit me for a bit, but I shooed them away, wanting to be alone.
I stayed out by the balcony, wrapped my arms around my knees, and stared at the rollicking pool scene for hours. I ordered room service, packed, and got ready for the return trip. My phone remained silent. No message from James. No more knocking on my door.
He was gone, just like I had requested.
It was for the best, but my heart and soul didn't give a crap. I felt broken. How could five lousy days completely change my life? How would I ever get over him?
Day turned into night. Night turned into morning.
I got ready to get on the plane and go home.
I'D LOST her.
I stared at the empty bottles of liquor lining the tiki bar. I was already past drunk, but I needed desperately to pass out so I could sleep. Her face haunted me. The sound of her voice whispering my name burned my ears. The scent of her sweet, hot pussy tortured my sanity.
I thought about trying one more time, but already knew it was over. She needed a man who was whole, and I'd already proved I was a ghost. Would I ever figure it out? Would I finally have enough guts to get my shit together?
I didn't know. Just realized I was broken without her.
Day turned into night. I drank.
Finally I passed out.
My last image was Quinn standing by the lake, a sad expression on her face as I frantically reached out for her. But it was too late. She turned and disappeared into the sparkling sunlight while I watched her go.
Six Weeks Later
"OKAY, CLASS dismissed. See you all Monday."
I sighed with relief, closed my books, and began packing up for the weekend. Of course, I had two extra shifts at the Senior Care Home, and an intense session for the rehabilitation clinic, but I didn't care. I hadn't been sleeping well, and Mac and Cassie had been giving me crap about decreasing my workload, but I ignored them.
It kept me busy. It kept me from remembering.
I stared out the window and studied the campus grounds. The temperature had dropped this week and hovered in the low fifties. I missed Key West. Sometimes, it felt like a magical dream. The sun and sand. The decadence of the numerous Sex and the Beach drinks. And James. The endless, sweet ecstasy of being held by him, shuddering into orgasm after orgasm.
Shaking my head firmly, I threw the books in my backpack and headed out. I missed him every day. For the first week, every time my phone rang or beeped, I'd jump, my heart crazily beating as I checked the screen and prayed it would be him. It never was. After a full month passed hearing nothing, I knew he'd moved on. Without me.
I tightened my coat from the chill of the wind and trudged across the main square of the campus. What had I expected? I'd told him clearly to get his shit together and that we wouldn't work. Most guys couldn't handle such truth, and he probably thought it was the biggest rejection of his life. And it was. But I still loved him. Maybe I'd always love him. I pictured myself ten years from now, studying the paper and finding an article showcasing the new hot artist, James Hunt. He'd be married and happy, long forgetting me, and I'd be single with lots of cats.
Ah, hell. Get over it, Quinn. It was a brief fling and he'd moved on. Maybe he loved me for those few days, but wasn't that cliche famous for a reason?
Out of sight, out of mind, dude, I said to myself. He's so over you.
"I prefer absence makes the heart grow fonder," a voice drawled. "Still talking to yourself, huh?"
I whipped around. My backpack dropped to my feet. I gasped.
James stood before me. He was gorgeous. Dressed in worn, tight jeans, with a leather bomber jacket, his dark curls blew in the wind and fell across his arched brow. Those full lips quirked upward in the corner, giving him a bad boy look that had my breasts tingling and my core wet in seconds. Oh God. If he got near and touched me, I'd die. Even a few feet away, I caught his scent, the gorgeous spicy, musky smell that woke up all my senses.
"Wh-What are you doing here?" I couldn't stop staring and eating him up with my gaze. He seemed to have the same problem. Those piercing blue eyes met and held mine in its grip, probing and testing my barriers.
His half-smile disappeared. "I moved here."
I almost swayed on my feet, dizzy with need and hope. My palms dampened. "Why?" I whispered.
He shrugged. "Because I love you. Because you were right. I didn't know who I was. I'm still working on it, but I have a plan. I sold the villa in Key West and bought a small studio instead. No more parties, just me and my boat and a good sunset."
My lower lip trembled. "Sounds perfect."
He smiled. "Yeah, it is. I spent some time alone, and decided what I want out of my life. I came up with two main things."
Fear hit me as hard as hope did. The question hovered on my lips, but I was so screwed up, I just kept staring at him, hoping he didn't disappear. Please say me, my inner voice begged. Please tell me you figured it out so I don't have to let you go again. Finally, I spit out the words before I jumped him. "What are they?"
"Art. I enrolled in an art school and got in on my portfolio, not my family name. I got a job in a studio helping kids learn expression through drawing and painting. I rented a workspace in town, my own loft apartment, and now I'm settling in."
Holy crap, he wasn't kidding about figuring out what he wanted. He had it together--and he hadn't mentioned me once. My breath came in sharp gasps, and I battled the need to kneel over and suck air from a paper bag. So lame. The love of my life came back and I was on the verge of a panic attack. "Sounds like you've got it all. What else could you possibly need?" I managed to ask.
His smile came back, sweet and full of emotion, and vulnerability. "You, Quinn. I need you in my life, in whatever capacity you're comfortable with. As my lover, my girlfriend, my friend. I'll take anything I can get. I want time to prove to you who I am, and how we are together when you're with the real me. The one only you saw in me."
I swayed on my feet. The man I had fallen in love with was already extraordinary, full of passion, ideals, and tenderness. But the man in front of me today was even stronger--in his confidence and belief in himself. And us.
He was everything I ever wanted.
"Yes."
He stared at me. "What? Just....yes? I don't want to freak you out by moving here and bursting into your life and--"
I rushed into his arms and tackled him. He fell back on the ground, and I kissed him, crawling all over him while he laughed and kissed me back and held me tight. "Yes," I said again. "Yes, yes, yes."
His arms tightened around me. I didn't want him to ever let go. "Ah, Christ, I love you. I fucking love you, Quinn, and nearly went out of my mind after you left. But it was worth it. This time, I'm not letting you go. Ever."
"Good. I love you too, James Hunt."
We rolled around on the grounds of the campus, kissing and giggling and embracing the future. It may be unknown, and we had a long road to travel, but there was hope, and finally we were together.
The End
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Sun, sand, and a hot guy. Sex on the beach with no strings attached.
A chance to get rid of this pesky virginity once and for all.
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Suddenly, sex on the beach doesn't sound so good anymore...
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Between Us
By Jen McLaughlin
I'm just a girl...
I'm a famous country star who's spent her life cultivating a good girl persona to avoid bad press, but I've reached my limit. I'm going away for spring break with my two best friends from college, and we've vowed to spend the vacation seeking out fun in the sun--along with some hot, no-strings-attached sex. The only thing I needed was the perfect guy, and then I met Austin Murphy. He might be totally wrong for me, but the tattooed bad boy is hard to resist. When I'm in his arms, everything just feels right.
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I'm just a bartender who lives in Key West, stuck in an endless cycle of boredom. But then Mackenzie Forbes, America's Sweetheart herself, comes up to me and looks at me with those bright green eyes...and everything changes. She acts like she's just a normal girl and I'm just a normal guy, but that couldn't be further from the truth. My past isn't pretty, you know. I did what I had to do to survive, and she'd run if she learned the truth about my darkness. But with her, I'm finally realizing what it's like to be alive. To laugh, live, and be happy.
All good things must come to an end...
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Read other books by Jennifer Probst
Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn't stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master's in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.
She makes her home in Upstate New York with the whole crew. Her sons keep her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean.
She is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of sexy and erotic contemporary romance. She was thrilled her book, The Marriage Bargain, was ranked #6 on Amazon's Best Books for 2012. She loves hearing from readers and is very interactive in social media. Talk to her on Twitter, Facebook, or email. Visit her website for updates on new releases and her street team.