Not the Marrying Kind Page 19

  I slipped my phone into my back pocket and yanked open the front door of The Red Room. Nodded to the bouncers, waved hi to Pop, who was chatting with a few bartenders. I sank into a warm feeling I was starting to think of as having roots. And not like Mom always said. These weren’t holding me back. I wasn’t sure why, but who was I to doubt it?

  The more pressing question was if I’d feel this way when I had to leave for California—a reality that hadn’t really hit me yet.

  The Red Room was packed tonight—packed and energetic, with people dancing and singing along to the beloved cover band up on that stage. The opening chords of The Clash’s “Train in Vain” started up. I grinned and shook my head.

  And that’s when I saw her.

  Time slowed. Reality stopped. On stage, the band sang their hearts out while the crowd parted right down the middle. The dancing happening around me moved at half-speed, faces blurred. The only person I could see was Fiona, arms in the air, blond hair flying, jumping with so much joy I was literally charmed. She appeared crystal-clear beneath a shining spotlight, dancing and singing without a care in the world. This was Fiona unchained and without a plan. This was Fiona in her birthright, the daughter of musicians, a child raised in music venues and on tour buses.

  In my seven years on the road, I’d seen some epic natural beauty. I’d watched sunsets over canyons and sunrises on desolate beaches, had ridden my bike through famous mountain ranges and across wide deserts.

  And Fiona Quinn dancing to the Clash was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  She wore a short red dress that showed off her long legs, with red lipstick to match. There were diamonds in her ears, of course, but her hair was a glorious mess as she whipped her head back and forth. This woman had kissed me so tenderly mere hours earlier.

  I also had two mouth-sized bruises on my neck, courtesy of her bite.

  I shook my head, rubbing a hand across my mouth as I got closer. Six days. I’m surprised I lasted that long. The moment I stepped into her line of sight, she launched herself into my arms with a squeal. I bent down, caught her, whirled her around and laughed into her tangled hair.

  “I’m so happy to see you!” she screamed. “And I’m sweaty! But I love this song! And this band!”

  Still grinning, I let her go but held her by the shoulders. “Are you drunk on our first date?”

  “Nope,” she said proudly. “Just really fucking happy. Doesn’t music make you feel this way too?”

  She’d nailed it. I’d also drifted from this part of my life that had been everything to me growing up. With a grin, I grabbed her hand and spun her around in time to the song. She laughed, shimmying around me. I dipped my mouth to her ear. “This is my favorite song on the album.”

  She pointed at me and winked. “Mine too.”

  She was too goddamn happy and too goddamn pretty, and this moment was so alive with a magic I’d never felt before. My nerves from earlier disappeared. If this was what a first date was like, then I didn’t have anything to fear. It made me want to go for broke for this whirling dervish of a woman, this smart-ass spitfire who refused to leave my thoughts.

  I pulled her close. Placed one hand on her back and used the other to clutch her hand to my chest. I knew the song would be over soon, and I wanted to squeeze every last drop from it.

  “Do you still think there’s a possibility that your soul mate enjoys yacht rock?” I asked her, referring to our very first conversation. How tightly wound she’d seemed, listing off robotic attributes that didn’t seem to thrill her in any way.

  She slapped a hand to her forehead. “God, no. I can’t believe I said that. He either loves this music the way I do, or he can get the fuck out.”

  The song ended with a huge cheer from the audience. We were about ten feet from the stage, and the guys up there looked as sweaty and happy as the crowd. I took advantage of the brief lapse in music to dip down to her ear again. “That’s my girl. I knew you’d come to your senses one day.”

  She looked up at me, flushed and sparkling. “Am I your girl?”

  The opening guitar riffs of Zeppelin’s “Good Times, Bad Times” kicked up.

  “They fucking know this is my favorite song,” she shouted. She tilted her head back and let out a whoop of pure joy. I snatched her hand back and pulled her hard into my body. Gripped her cheeks and kissed her. She smiled against my mouth, then deepened the kiss. Swiped my tongue against hers as the music roared around us.

  And it must have been the heavy bass that made my heart thump so loudly against my chest.

  When we separated a second later, she looked dazed. “Yes,” I said. Keep it simple, keep it honest. “Yes, you goddamn are.”

  Fiona beamed, gave me another short, slightly sloppy kiss. Then she threw her hands up and twirled, dancing again in earnest.

  And I had no choice but to join her.

  26

  Fiona

  One hour of happy, sweaty dancing later, and the band finally took a break for a quick intermission. Max and I cheered with the rest of the audience as the musicians gave quick bows and exited the stage. I pushed the sweaty hair back from my face and grinned up at the ceiling. I was riding that blissed out, electric high that comes from a band playing every one of your favorite songs. Max and I had laughed and twirled and sang along at the top of our lungs. At some point, I acknowledged the deep ache in my chest, a poignant feeling of coming home. To The Red Room, to music, to this world I’d left behind so I could achieve my goals.

  There was a time in my life where I’d straddled my two separate identities easily, before I’d felt like the odd Quinn out, like I had to be the responsible one to keep our family together. This night, this rollercoaster of shimmering emotion, made me wonder if I could get it back.

  The audience stayed close by, chatting, grabbing drinks at the bar. The lights came halfway up, and music was piped in over the speakers in the corners. I turned to move, but Max grabbed my wrist and tugged me close.

  “May I have this dance?” His palm slid to my low back. His other hand clasped mine to his chest. There were people everywhere, and the beat was all wrong, but I gave in to temptation instead of analysis.

  “Of course.” His palm roamed back up my spine until his fingers could scratch at the base of my scalp. “As first dates go, this one is my favorite so far.”

  His eyes searched mine. “I’m doing okay?” he asked.

  He spun me gently and my skirt floated around in a bright red circle.

  “These are some advanced-level moves, Max.”

  “I’m no expert, that’s for sure,” he said.

  “Yeah, well…” I swallowed around a bunch of nerves. “Turns out I’m no expert either. Usually on first dates I spend the evening mentally calculating how the person’s attributes fit into my overall goals while analyzing the risk/reward of a second date.”

  To his credit, Max didn’t make fun. He did swipe his thumb across my temple. “That’s a lot of work up here.”

  “If I can anticipate the outcome, I can manage whether or not I get hurt.”

  He nodded once before spinning me again, dropping me down into a skillful dip. I stared up at him as he held me suspended in mid-air. “I don’t get hurt because I don’t try.”

  Max brought us both upright. I pressed my hand to his cheek, thought about his mom leaving him when he was just a kid. “I can understand that impulse.”

  He cradled me against his chest. Pressed his lips to the top of my head as we continued to sway.

  “I have an idea,” I said.

  “I’m listening.”

  “We’ve got some complications ahead.” I recognized my own side-step, but I still wasn’t bold enough to fully admit that Max leaving in eight days scared me.

  “That we do,” he said softly.

  I tilted my head, pressed up onto my tiptoes. Gave him a lingering kiss. “I trust you Max. And I’m willing to try.”

  The kiss Max gave me in return was so good,
so hungry, so skillful it only served to amplify the tiny voice in my brain that urged me toward caution, to stay the course no matter how boring or uninspired that made my love life. As his tongue swept against mine, and his fingers slid through my hair, I was newly aware of the precipice of danger my heart balanced upon.

  This feeling—this was one-part exhilaration, one-part bitter ache—was what all those love songs were about.

  We finally separated, and he nudged his nose against mine. “I called Mateo before I came in because I thought I was going to throw up due to nerves.”

  “You were nervous?”

  He dragged his mouth to my ear, chuckling softly. It lifted all the hair on the back of my neck. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a hot goddamn mess around you. You’re the first woman to ever make me nervous, the first woman to ever dominate my every waking thought. And the first woman to ever make me want to try.”

  I was light-headed with wanting him. My fingers curled against his shirt. His hands slid down my body, hovering right above my ass.

  “But I still really don’t know what I’m doing here,” he said.

  “Me neither.” I gave him a shy smile that he returned. “I’d like to work on being a little more loose.”

  His smile grew. “Hell, I’m gonna give this stability thing a go.”

  Our next kiss ended with my teeth, tugging on his lower lip. Every muscle in his body went taut. His fingers dug into my skin. We were still swaying in the middle of the crowd, and I was sure the band had come back on. But I was only aware of sensation and arousal and my own urgent need.

  “Max?”

  He made a humming noise against my skin. He pressed kiss after kiss to my neck, curling his tongue around the shell of my ear.

  “I wasn’t lying earlier. I am completely naked beneath this dress.”

  He paused, emitting a low growl I wanted to hear again and again. Pinching my chin, he lifted my head until our lips were barely an inch apart. “You want to play with me tonight, princess?”

  Yes, I really, really did.

  “I want what you promised me.” I licked my lips. “On the fire escape.”

  He pulled me flush against an erection so big I knew his sexual arrogance was based on fact. “I made a lot of promises that night. All of which I’ll gladly deliver. So you tell me what your beautiful body needs, and I’ll give it to you until you beg me to stop.”

  I whimpered but held his gaze. “I want you to worship at my feet.”

  His jaw clenched so hard I thought it would break. “A promise I would literally die to fulfill.”

  “Then take me up to that supply closet and worship me.”

  The crowd began cheering, drowning out all noise. The band was back, already playing, bodies surging with joyous movement all around us. Max and I, however, were still—trapped in a moment I willed to last forever.

  The crowd cheered louder, which meant no one heard the words he whispered fiercely against my ear. “The only thing this smart mouth of yours will be screaming is my name and the words yes, please and thank you. You got that?”

  I arched my eyebrow, feeling powerful beyond measure. I was the girl who’d crowd-surfed without fear and marched into her first day of law school knowing I was exactly where I was supposed to be. “Yes, please.”

  He kissed my temple. “That’s my girl.”

  My toes curled in my shoes, and then Max Devlin—my forbidden friend, my cocky bad boy, the antithesis of my contract—dragged me upstairs.

  27

  Fiona

  One hot minute later, Max was kicking open the door of the supply closet on the second floor and yanking me inside. Music filled the space from the ground below, and a small light swung from above. I barely had time to take in my surroundings before I was being lifted by my waist and shoved back against that door.

  He claimed my mouth in a kiss that ached with a desire he was finally unleashing on my extremely willing body. I threaded my fingers in his hair, holding him tight. He opened wider, licking deeply into my mouth, making rough sounds in the back of his throat. He pinned my knees to the door and dragged his cock across my clit with a thrust that had me crying out against his lips.

  He did it again. And again, each time sending sensation flowing through my body, tightening my core.

  “Yes,” I sighed, biting his lip again. “More.”

  He spun us, dropping me down onto a long table. And didn’t waste time curling his fingers into the straps of my dress and tugging the material all the way down, revealing my bare breasts.

  “Fiona,” he said, my name a plea. “You are so beautiful it hurts.” He flattened his tongue, dragged it across my breast before sucking my nipple entirely into his mouth. My head fell back, fingers in his hair, feeling an utter, absolute bliss from the top of my head to my still-curled toes. He licked, tugging gently with his teeth, sending me spiraling toward ecstasy. He palmed my other breast like he was the luckiest man in the world, like I was a revelation he hadn’t seen coming. When he finally captured my lips again, I could only pant through our kiss, could only moan with relief when his hand slipped beneath my skirt. The second his fingers slid expertly through my slick folds, he pressed his forehead to mine and released a long groan.

  “Fuck me, this pussy is a gift.” His index finger landed against my clit, circling skillfully, making me see stars and lights and planets. He tried to kiss me through my moans, but I was too loud, too hopeless, felt too much pleasure already. “I wanted your first climax to be on my tongue, but now I’m greedy to watch you.”

  “Watch me what?” I whispered. One thick finger slid deep inside, followed by a second. I rocked my hips, shameless, urging him deeper. He scraped his teeth across my neck, and I felt wanton and desired in ways I never had before. This kind of primal and urgent physical attraction hadn’t been a priority in my life before. And this kind of primal, urgent fucking wasn’t either. Which meant it was all new and exciting and so fucking hot I was already clenching around Max’s skilled fingers.

  “I’m going to watch you come while riding my hand,” he growled against my lips. “Because you’re close already, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  One hand wrapped around the back of my neck, holding our faces close. His dark eyes seared mine, full of filthy sin and too much temptation. Here was my anti-Prince Charming, sneaking into my bed chambers to fuck me senseless from dusk until dawn. To seduce me into reckless behavior filled with delicious sin. Max was the total opposite of orderly spreadsheets and calculations. He was hot sex personified, and I was a special kind of fool to think I could resist him.

  I looked down, caught his wrist moving against the red fabric of my skirt and his fingers thrusting inside of me. Leaned into his lips where he was kissing my cheek, kissing down my throat. Tipped my head all the way back when his palm nudged against my clit, ramping up my pleasure to its absolute extreme.

  With one hand still cupping my cheek, he tilted my head back so he could continue to watch. “The night we met on that fire escape,” he whispered. “I went home and fucked my own hand twice and still couldn’t stop fantasizing about having you in my bed.” His palm ground against my clit, and a strangled cry fell from my lips. “I would have pinned you down on that mattress and fucked you without mercy. In all the dirty ways you’ve always secretly wanted. Because you’re a dirty girl that doesn’t fuck nice. I knew it the moment we met.”

  I shook my head, gasping for air. “I like… oh god… I like it as rough as you can give it.”

  Secret fantasies. Apparently, I had a lot of them when Max was finger-fucking me on a table.

  Max slapped the table behind me and shoved me back farther, one palm on my chest pressing me to lie down. I did, willingly, legs spread and pussy bare for him. His body boxed me in as he worked my clit and kissed me. “You say the word, and I’ll fuck you through the goddamn wall. But I’m watching you come on my hand so help me god.”

  My spine bowed off the table as Max
sped up his motions, sucking my nipple between his teeth for a sharp bite. His slick fingers slid out from inside of me and landed on my clit. I screamed, scraped my nails across his neck. Those fingers circled my clit in rough, firm circles, setting off a climax that detonated like a fucking bomb. As he watched with an arrogant smile, I cried his name and flailed beneath his hand, finally pulling him down for a sloppy, sexy kiss.

  But before I could fully come down, he was yanking me to the edge of that table and wrapping my thighs around his face. Propped on my elbows, breathing heavily, lips bruised, I watched him breathe me in with a look of pure devotion. And then his eyes, locked on mine, as he curled his entire tongue deep inside my pussy.

  And I knew, finally, what it truly meant to be worshiped.

  28

  Max

  After seven years of traveling, I’d finally discovered where I was meant to be all along.

  On my knees for Fiona fucking Quinn.

  This smart-mouthed spitfire had just come on my fingers like some kind of vision. And I couldn’t resist the urge to taste her. Her beautiful, perfect pussy was pink and glistening, with curls of dark hair. As I guessed, the taste exploding across my tongue was earthy paradise. Her thighs were wrapped around my ears, and her fingers in my hair was euphoric. It was life-changing and soul-shattering.

  I had little experience with first dates, but something told me most of them weren’t like this. Hell, even my hottest one-night stands couldn’t hold a candle to the fiery intensity that drew us together. I licked and explored her wet folds, licked deep inside of her. Tasting what I was finally going to fuck later, tasting every secret part of her.

  “Max… Max… oh my god, it’s too good.”

  I groaned against her skin, happy to worship at her feet like I promised. I’d give her the best damn head of her life if it kept her smiling and satisfied. There was something so sexy about having my face buried beneath her skirt. I could only hear her rich, throaty moans and experience her fingers, yanking my hair, controlling my movements. I flicked light, teasing circles around her clit, building her back to another orgasm. My fingers dug into her thighs, tilting her hips up, exposing every part of her for my tongue, my lips, my mouth. My teasing licks became longer, harder, firmer. Her throaty moans became keening cries as every part of her shook and shook.