Chasing Me

  Her eyes opened. Pupils dilated, drugged, she whispered my name. "James."

  "You're mine. Just mine. Forever."

  I delved my fingers into her pussy, loving the way she clenched around me tight, as if refusing to let me go. I curled my index finger the way she liked it and went straight for her G-spot, which made her cry out and launch halfway off the bed.

  "Say it," I commanded. The beast inside me roared for me to take her hard and make sure she never forgot, but I tried to keep it together. "Now."

  "I'm yours. Forever. Oh, God, gonna come--"

  "Come now," I whispered fiercely, biting her cherry-red nipple at the same time I flicked her clit with the pressure I knew got her every time. "Now, Quinn."

  "Oh, God, yes!"

  She came hard, shuddering under my grip, and I lifted my head from her breast to watch her face. Possession beat in waves inside me. Swearing she'd never be in another guy's arms, I surged forward and buried my dick deep inside her.

  I threw back my head and shouted her name. Caught on the edge of losing my control, I thrust inside her over and over, just barely hanging on to my sanity as I felt her come again over my dick, bathing me in her arousal, falling into me as deep as I fell into her.

  We collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, breathing hard, and she rolled over into the position she loved, tucking her head into my chest. My heart began to slow, and the elusive peace I always sought with art settled over me, making me realize everything was right as long as she was in my arms.

  "Tough night?" she murmured huskily.

  I laughed a bit. "You have no idea. Rich came into the place."

  "Rich, your asshole friend from Key West?"

  I laughed again. Quinn rarely cursed, but when she did it was pretty spectacular. "Yep. He was in town for some banquet and thought he'd stop in for a coffee to torture me."

  She rolled over and caught my chin. Her dark eyes were worried. "He's scum, James," she said. "I'm sure he gave you a hard time and tried to make you feel like crap."

  Quinn didn't know the half of it, but I wasn't about to tell her how his taunts affected me, even when I didn't want them to. Seemed I was always struggling with my worth as a man. But I was tired of being a fucking whiner. Poor little rich boy, the voice inside me mocked. Over a million dollars at my disposal whenever I got bored of playing the working stiff, while people out there struggled with jobs every day to support their families and had no blanket policy. I disgusted myself.

  "Uh-oh, he did get to you." Quinn peered into my face. "He's pissed because you took off and won't finance his fun anymore."

  I laughed. Damned if she wasn't right. My friends loved to have me around to throw the big-ass parties and always foot the drinking bill. "He left me a few quarters for a tip," I teased.

  She kissed me. "He's a dickhead. I hope we don't see him when we go back to Key West."

  Oh, yeah. We'd planned to go back to the Keys during Spring Break, meet all her girlfriends, and celebrate our year anniversary. Now? I had the big art show to worry about, and finding enough money to fly us over, stay at the Coves, and make sure my ex-friends didn't bother us. Great.

  "Maybe we should drive," I threw out. "Could be an adventure."

  She arched a brow. "Are you kidding? It would take too long. Listen, Mac already said she'd put us all up at the Coves if you're worried about money."

  No. Fucking. Way. I wouldn't have her country-star friend, as sweet as she was, paying my bills along with my girlfriend's. For God's sake, last year, Quinn had been sleeping in my mansion. I'd find a way.

  "I got it covered," I said smoothly. "I don't want you to worry about the trip. Okay?"

  She frowned, but she finally smiled, flipped over, and started pressing kisses over my chest. My muscles clenched, and I became rock-hard again. I tangled my fingers in her long hair and watched her as she made her way to my erection, looked up my body, and gave me that look. The look that could shoot me straight to heaven in a single moment. The look that told me she was all mine.

  "Quinn?"

  "Shut up, baby. I think we've done enough talking."

  She opened her mouth, took me in one long, smooth, hot swallow, and I closed my eyes in ecstasy.

  Dear God, I loved this woman.

  Chapter Seven

  QUINN

  I SAT IN BRIAN'S OFFICE, my legs crossed in my proper black pants, boots, and white lace top. I tried not to fidget as he spent long moments going over my file, which I had brought to show I was organized and prepared. It contained not only a resume, but letters of recommendation, my current GPA and student records, and testaments of all the people I'd worked with in the past, including referrals from the senior citizen home. I knew it was impressive, and a way to get to the next level beyond the newcomers. I just had to make sure I remained cool, competent, and in control. Those qualities were important to social work or counseling sessions, since emotions ran high and hot on a regular basis.

  Brian looked up, pushed the folder away, and smiled. I tried not to jerk at the brilliance in that smile, recognizing he was basically a friendly, happy person who seemed quite satisfied with his life. I knew that was a stretch assumption when I didn't even know him, but I had instincts about people.

  "I'm impressed," he said finally, leaning back in his chair.

  "Good. That's the reaction I was seeking."

  He laughed and tapped his pen casually against the edge of the desk. "Are you too good to be true? It's rare I see someone enthusiastic, with businesslike skills and capabilities this young. Why do you want to dedicate your life to being with a bunch of alcoholics? A pretty, vibrant woman like you?"

  I didn't take offense. Just answered the question. "You know my father's story. But this isn't an attempt to make sense out of alcoholism or gain forgiveness for something I don't understand. I worked through a lot of my issues. Went to therapy. Al-Anon. I just have this thing inside me that's only truly satisfied when I'm helping others. Call it the nurturer personality, or maybe I'm an old soul who came back to right some past wrongs. I'm not sure. I just know who I am, and I accept it. Does that make sense?"

  Something burned bright in his dark eyes, a gleam of understanding and something much more dangerous. His fingers clenched around the pen, and he gave a jerky nod. "Yeah, it does make sense. Listen, Quinn, I'm setting up a special program for people like you who I'm looking to hire full-time. Problem is, it's demanding. Three nights per week, and I know you also work at the nursing home and have classes. We'll be doing things I've seen in other rehabs which I'd like to implement at New Beginnings, and I'm only taking five people in. I want you to be one of them. Are you interested?"

  "Yes." I never hesitated. I knew my schedule was tight, but I wanted this and felt it could be the turning point I needed. I had so much I wanted to be able to give to the residents. Not dreams of unicorns and rainbows and perfect days. I didn't believe in that anymore. Just hope and hard work.

  "Good." He shuffled through his desk and handed me a thick packet. "Those are the forms to fill out and get back to me. We start this week."

  I nodded. I'd make it work. I couldn't wait to tell James, and though it would be less time we spent together, I knew he'd be supportive. I rose from the chair.

  "Quinn?"

  "Yes?"

  "Are you free for lunch?"

  I blinked. Stared. Was he asking me on a date? Or was this business? I felt myself blushing. "I'm, well, I mean, I have to tell you, I--"

  "Have a boyfriend?" he interrupted.

  I bit my lip, but he didn't look upset, just thoughtful.

  "Yes."

  "Understood. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just enjoy speaking with you and wanted to pick your brain a bit."

  "Oh." So, it was more about colleague-to-colleague? That, I could handle. He didn't give off any of those weird vibes like he wanted to use his higher position to get favors, or dangle this program in the hopes of dating me. He was passionate abou
t his work, and his personality seemed to fit mine. One worker bee easily recognized the other. "I wouldn't mind grabbing a burger and discussing some things." That felt safe.

  "Perfect. We can go right down the street." He grabbed his coat and ushered me out the door, heading toward Rose's Pub, which was known for their gourmet fries. "How's school?"

  I wrinkled my nose and tightened my scarf around my neck. Our steps easily matched each other's. "Fine. The last semester is the easiest. I just have to finish up a few projects and keep my A's intact."

  "Ah, an overachiever. I'm the same way. I remember when I was in the University of Florida, and I got food poisoning a day before my final exam. The professor was hardcore, so I showed up with practically an IV in my arm and took it."

  "Got an A?"

  "Of course."

  I laughed. We got settled into a booth, ordered two burgers, fries, and Cokes, and settled in. "What made you want to get into counseling?" I asked curiously.

  "Same as you. My mom was an alcoholic. I was the oldest, so I took care of her. Co-dependence issues galore. Got fed up, got educated, and gave her tough love. She was not one of the lucky ones, though. Refused to do rehab, so I ended up losing her."

  My heart hurt for him. "I'm so sorry."

  He gave a half-smile without humor and shrugged. "It's okay. Part of who I am was because of the experience. I was focused on saving everyone else for a while, but now I've balanced out a bit. I just want to offer the best programs I can and let the individual decide if they want to work it. Make sense?"

  He gazed directly into my eyes, and I felt my skin tingle. A shared emotion passed between us, as if we recognized ourselves in each other. So strange. Though he was older, I was already an ancient soul, so we were almost evenly matched. I broke the gaze and sipped my Coke. "Makes perfect sense. Exhausting sometimes, isn't it?"

  "Yes. But what's the alternative? Mediocrity?"

  I smiled. "Maybe. Tell me about your plans for New Beginnings."

  The waitress brought our burgers, and we dug in. "I want to add another level to the program. There are a lot more experiments in holistic health, meditation, yoga, et cetera that we only touched on. I'm hiring a brand-new coordinator to run the extra programs, which will extend the regular term by another week."

  I frowned. "What about insurance? Most residents want to work the program and get back out. Many can't afford to stay longer."

  His face reflected admiration at my question. "Already working on that, and it's almost approved with some companies. For the others, I'm looking at doing a work-study program in order to get them to stay. Give them incentives. It's a way to reach a bit deeper into the mental blocks alcoholics have."

  I'd done classes with holistic techniques and found them favorable. Many alcoholics were quite brilliant, with no way to settle their mind other than looking for another hit. This was a positive way to give them new skills and alternatives. "It's brilliant," I said simply. "I think it would work well at New Beginnings. Tell me more."

  We ate our burgers, and he talked animatedly about the ins and outs of the program. I got caught up in his excitement, and realized how alike we were. I was a fixer, nurturer, and enjoyed stability.

  Like Brian.

  I didn't care, though. I kind of liked who I was, though sometimes I was way too shy and intimidated and felt like the world was spinning out of my control, which I hated. But James balanced me in a way I'd never experienced before. As if by allowing me to feel things so deeply, he'd provided an outlet that gave me more peace than I'd ever had.

  Or maybe it was just the multiple orgasms.

  I smiled at the thought.

  "Now, that was something interesting. What were you thinking about?"

  I ducked my head and fumbled with the napkin. Damn, this was awkward. "Umm, nothing. Just planning how to make sure I'm hired."

  He leaned back in the booth. The lights gleamed in his ginger hair, and his dark eyes sparkled. He was really handsome in an understated way. Different from James's intense, sexual looks that always made my tummy drop to my toes. No, Brian gave me a settled, happy feeling. Like I wanted to remain around him, talking. "I have a feeling you can get whatever you put your mind to." His lip curled a bit. "Tell me about the boyfriend. In love?"

  I shifted in my seat. "Yes. We met last year in Key West on Spring Break. He moved here this past summer."

  Brian lifted a brow. "Moved for you, huh? That is serious. What does he do?"

  "He's an artist. Goes to school at the Brush Institute."

  "Great place. Must be talented."

  "He is."

  Brian's eyes darkened. He leaned in just a bit and lowered his voice to an intimate pitch. "Then maybe he's worthy of you."

  A strange intensity built between us, and I shook my head to clear it. "He is," I said firmly.

  "Good."

  More staring. Time to leave. I grabbed my purse and placed some money on the table. Suddenly, his hand shot out and entwined with mine. At the touch of his skin over mine, I gasped and jerked back. He studied my expression and slowly pushed the bills back toward me.

  "My treat."

  "But I--"

  "Put your money away, Quinn." His order allowed me no recourse, so I shoved the cash back into my purse and thanked him. I was embarrassed at my lame reaction to a simple touch, but he immediately put me back at ease. We chatted a bit as we left, and I was laughing at one of his jokes about overachievers when I pushed open the door.

  And ran straight into James.

  "Quinn?" His hands held me hard. Those aqua-blue eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Brian right behind me. Uh-oh. James was known to be extremely jealous and possessive. It was one of the sexy elements that made our relationship exciting, but right now, I needed him to be cool. I jumped right into introductions before he could ask the question.

  "James! What are you doing here? This is Brian. He's the new assistant director of New Beginnings." I emphasized his title and hoped he'd get my subtle meaning.

  He nodded and stuck out his gloved hand. "Nice to meet you, Brian," he said stiffly. "I'm James. Quinn's boyfriend."

  Brian flicked his gaze over James, seeming to catch the undercurrent of warning in his tone. I almost groaned at the pissing match beside me. Men were so weird.

  "Nice to meet you, James," Brian said pleasantly, shaking his offered hand. "Quinn was just telling me about you. Says you're an artist."

  "That's right." To me, James said, "I was heading to the clinic to let you know I need to stay late at the studio tonight."

  "Oh, that's okay. I have an essay to write."

  "Fine. Need a ride back to school?"

  "Sure, thanks." I turned to Brian, thanked him for lunch, and we said our goodbyes. James was quiet as we made our way toward the car. When I finally slid into the seat and buckled up, I turned to face him. "How was Joe's?"

  His jaw clenched. "A real blast. How was your lunch?"

  I studied him for any undercurrents of sarcasm, but he seemed sincere. I let out a breath. I was really being ridiculous by expecting him to be jealous just because I had lunch with a male business associate. I guess announcing I belonged to him set up the ground rules between men. "Great. Brian's implementing a new program he wants me to be part of. We were discussing it. I'll be really busy for the next few weeks. He only takes five people in, and I'm one of them."

  "Quinn, your schedule is already overbooked. Between school and two jobs, do you have time for this? I don't think it's a good idea."

  I raised my chin. "This is important. I think it'll put me in a good spot to get that permanent position once I graduate. I can do this."

  He muttered under his breath and squealed into a parking space. Shoving his fingers through his thick hair, he whirled around to face me. "We barely see each other as is. How many more days will you be gone?"

  "Three nights per week."

  "Fuck."

  "I want to do this!"

  "Fine. Do it, then.
"

  We stared at each other in furious silence. Long moments passed. The sound of students laughing and walking onto campus echoed through the closed windows. I finally reached out to touch him. As usual, his touch electrocuted me, burning my skin and making me ache to be surrounded by him, his scent, taste, and voice my overwhelming obsession. He felt it, too, because he leaned over the seat and pressed his forehead against mine, his fingers cupping my cheeks.

  "Don't be mad," I whispered.

  "I'm frustrated," he admitted. "I miss you, and there's all this shit going on all the time. I'm afraid you're going to burn out, baby."

  I pressed my thumb against his delicious, full lips, stroking the bottom in a way I know he liked. "I know, but this is important to me."

  He groaned and instead of answering, then took my mouth in a hard kiss, slipping his tongue deep inside. I arched up, and his hand twisted in my hair to hold my head still. I thrilled to the demand of the kiss, the spark of his passion heating my blood and making my pussy wet. I ached for him to climb on me right now, yank down my pants, and slide inside me, his gorgeous, big cock thrusting in and out until he gave me that orgasm I wanted with my last breath.

  Instead, he broke the kiss, panting a bit, eyes wild, and jerked back. "Okay."

  Disappointed, I realized the old James wouldn't have cared about anything but fucking me. Now, he seemed to analyze every move and decision regarding our relationship, and I didn't know what to do about it.

  He gave a lopsided smile. "Call you tonight."

  I waited for another kiss, but he kept his distance. I forced a smile back and opened the car door. "Love you."

  "Love you, too."

  The words soothed me as I walked to my class.

  Chapter Eight

  JAMES

  I GLANCED AT MY watch and quickened my pace. I had a rare opportunity to meet Quinn at the art store. I had to buy a shitload of art supplies, and she had time to run over to meet me for lunch.

  I tried to be happy, but I had to admit my patience was running out. Two weeks had already passed since she took on the extra workload. We were dealing with conflicting schedules, and barely enough time for a quickie. With her sporadic night shifts at the nursing home, the clinic, and regular schoolwork, I felt guilty interrupting her sleep. The distance between us was frustrating the hell out of me.