Tempt Me at Midnight (17 page)

“Son of a bitch.” The words exploded through gritted teeth.
“Son of a bitch!”

Wearily Lexi held up a hand. “It’s all right—”

“The hell it is!” Quentin roared, his face contorted with fury. “That bastard was
never
good enough for you, and I knew it the moment I met him! But I held my tongue because I saw how much it hurt you every time your mother criticized him. For two years I kept my distance from you as much as possible because I never wanted to give him any reason to think I was disrespecting his marriage. I missed the
hell
out of you, Lex, but I put your happiness and peace of mind above my own selfish needs. The
only
reason that filthy piece of shit accused you of cheating was to ease his own guilty conscience!”

By the time he’d finished his furious tirade, Lexi was trembling so hard her teeth chattered. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, wishing like hell she’d never opened this Pandora’s box with Quentin. What had possessed her?

“I need his address.” Quentin’s voice was low with suppressed rage.

“No.” Her answer was swift, unequivocal. “Absolutely not.”

“Forget it. I’ll find him myself.”

“And do what, Quentin?” she cried. “Beat him to a bloody pulp?
Kill
him? And then what? You wanna rot in prison for the rest of your life, or until the State of Georgia puts you down like a rabid dog? Adam McNamara isn’t worth it! You hear me? He isn’t worth it!”

“That’s for me to decide,” Quentin snarled.

“No, it isn’t!
I’m
the one who was married to him, not you. I’ve already warned you to stay away from him, but you’re so damn hotheaded!”

“It’s been two years, and I haven’t gone after him
once!
”

“Only because he changed jobs and his phone number and address are unlisted! My God, Red, you’ve got the man living like he’s in the witness protection program. He actually told his lawyer that he feared retaliation from you!” She shook her head in angry disbelief. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or fight my battles. Last I checked,
I
kicked
his
sorry ass in divorce court!”

“Not good enough,” Quentin bit off.

“It is for me!” Eyes narrowed dangerously, she jabbed a warning finger at him.

“I’ve told you once, and I’m telling you again. If you get yourself locked up, I won’t visit you in prison. Not one single day! And I mean it!”

His eyes darkened, nostrils flaring. “That’s just a chance I’ll have to take.”

“Try me.”

“Alexis—”

“If you go to prison, you’ll kill me, too. Is that what you want?”

He averted his gaze, a muscle pulsing at the base of his tightly clenched jaw.

Silence, raw and volatile, lapsed between them.

When Lexi’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point, Quentin said in a low, sullen voice, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” she whispered at once.

“It’s hard, you know? Hard to watch your best friend go through hell and you can’t do a damn thing about it. You were a wreck for a whole year after the divorce. It killed me, Lex.
Killed
me.”

“I know. We shed more than a few tears together.” She gave him a wan, grateful smile, remembering how wonderful and attentive he’d been to her during those dark, bleak days when all she’d wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position and never leave her bed.

Quentin had often left work early and brought over dinner from the restaurant just to make sure she ate. They’d played cards and video games and watched movies together. He’d coaxed smiles out of her when no one else could. And sometimes, when she’d just needed to be held, he’d done that, too. Lexi knew she couldn’t have gotten through the painful ordeal without Quentin. He was her Rock of Gibraltar.

She swallowed, drew a deep, shuddering breath and slowly exhaled. “I’m sorry, Quentin. We were having such a good time tonight. I shouldn’t have brought up Adam. It’s just that… Having you here with me… On my anniversary…” She trailed off, suddenly too embarrassed to continue.

But Quentin reached up and grasped her face between his hands, forcing her to meet the piercing directness of his gaze. “Finish what you were going to say.”

She licked her lips. “You’re the first man I’ve slept with since my divorce.”

A range of emotions crossed Quentin’s face—surprise, tenderness, relief. Gratitude.

“You gave me the privilege of being your…first?”

“Yes,” she whispered, gazing earnestly at him. “And I wish to God you really
had
been my very first lover.”

With an agonized groan Quentin crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her so hungrily and fiercely her head spun. She clung tightly to him as he swept her up into his arms, stood and started purposefully from the living room.

When she realized where he was heading, she panicked. “Quentin, the guest bedroom is—”

“I know where the hell it is,” he snarled. “I’m not taking you there. And I’m not a damn guest!”

“But—”

He silenced her with a look that warned her the fun and games were over. This was serious business, and the outcome of this match of wills could change the course of their lives forever.

He strode into the master bedroom with the single-minded determination of a general storming the gates of a fortress. If the door had been closed he would have kicked it open, crashing it against the wall.

Lexi trembled as he gently laid her on the king-size bed and lowered his body over hers. His hot, possessive gaze drilled into hers, stripping away her defenses. Laying her bare.

“I told you,” he growled. “No more walls. No more barriers. No more ghosts from the past.”

“Quentin—”

“I know what this is about. You’ve been stonewalling all night, and now I know why. You didn’t want to bring me in here because in some warped way, you feel like you really
are
cheating on Adam. Like you’re justifying his crazy, jealous accusations by being with me.” He pushed his face into hers, scorching her with the feral intensity of his gaze.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong. Do you hear me?
You
didn’t do
anything
wrong!”

He seized her mouth in another deep, mind-blowing kiss that left her reeling. And then he was sliding lower, slowly kissing his way down her trembling body. His lips ignited brushfires everywhere they touched, his hands stroking and exploring her flesh until there was no part of her he hadn’t claimed as his own. She was burning with fever, shivering with need. By the time he reached the aching place between her thighs, she was so primed that all it took was one stroke of his tongue against her swollen clit and she arched off the bed like a rocket had gone off inside her.

“That’s right,” Quentin crooned with dark satisfaction as she convulsed and keened with helpless pleasure. “There’s nothing wrong or dirty about what we’re doing. Nothing in my life has
felt
more right than making love to you, Lex.”

He moved over her, and their lips and tongues met and meshed until they were both breathing harshly. Quentin drew back, pushing himself to his knees. Lexi followed him, her hungry gaze fixated on the long, engorged penis jutting insistently from his body.

Her eyes locked with his as she wrapped her hand around his shaft and eased him into her mouth. He groaned and shuddered convulsively. He was big, the blunt head easily reaching the back of her throat and beyond. His skin was hot, thick and firm, a steel bar drenched in melted chocolate. She slid him in and out of her mouth, working her lips and tongue as she simultaneously massaged his engorged sac. His guttural moans intoxicated her, made her drunk on her own sensual power. And somewhere deep inside her, a naughty, vengeful little voice whispered,
Yes, Adam, he
is
bigger, thank you very much!

And then Quentin was shuddering and climaxing, his penis pulsing and contracting violently as he exploded inside her mouth. He watched her swallow his seed, his heavy-lidded eyes glittering with fierce adoration.

And she stared back at him, shaken by the profound intimacy of this moment. A moment shared with the one man she was never, ever supposed to want.

Lovingly Quentin stroked her hair. “We can do anything we want, sweetness,” he said huskily.
“Anything.”

He lowered his head, slanting his mouth over hers. They shared another kiss.

Languorous, achingly slow, lips parting and coming together again. And then he turned her around, keeping her on all fours.

“If I want to take you from behind—” he thrust into her, tearing an animal cry from her throat “—we can do that, too.”

Gripping her hips, he began rocking against her, a slow, measured pace that had her moaning and grabbing fistfuls of the bed linens. Sweat soon coated their bodies, making their skin so slick that each thrust echoed in a wet slapping sound. Quentin caressed her butt and cupped her swinging breasts, brushing his thumbs over her tight nipples until her moans grew wilder.

Whispering rough-tender endearments, he leaned over her, embracing her as he kissed between her shoulder blades and nuzzled the nape of her neck. Her skin was so sensitized that the scrape of his bristled jaw sent electric shivers racing to her engorged clit.

Before she could reach down, his nimble fingers were already stroking her, soothing the raw ache. She gyrated and ground her hips against his, needing him to go faster. But he maintained his slow, relentless rhythm, every plunge and glide of his hot, silken hardness driving her closer to the edge.

And then, without warning, he pulled out of her and rolled her onto her back. He pushed her legs open, braced himself on his arms and reentered her with one deep thrust, capturing her sobs in his mouth.

Her shaking thighs were spread achingly wide as he began pumping into her, now showing her no mercy as she writhed and arched beneath him. He countered every surge of her hips with heavier strokes, driving her back down into the mattress. Her hands rushed blindly over his flexing back and down to his butt, clamping over the firm, clenching muscles.

This was more than sex. This was soul-shattering, life-altering
lovemaking.

Poised above her, his face taut with passion as he gazed into her eyes, Quentin commanded, “Say my name.”

“Quentin,” Lexi whimpered.

“Louder, damn it. Sing it from the rafters. Chase away these damn ghosts.”

“Quentin,” she sobbed.

“Louder.” He pulled back and thrust deep. “Louder!”

“Quentin!”
she screamed as her body exploded in an orgasm of such cataclysmic proportions she swore she wouldn’t—
couldn’t
—survive it.

A moment later Quentin erupted. With his head thrown back, the sinewy cords of his neck straining and his powerful body bucking, he shouted
her
name in a hoarse, rapturous voice that brought tears to her eyes.

As the waves of ecstasy crashed over her, breaking her down and liberating her, she clung tightly to him and wept with sweet, glorious abandon.

Quentin gathered her protectively into his arms, cradling her head against his chest and holding her like he’d never let go. “I love you,” he whispered fervently. “I love you so damn much I can’t
breathe
without you.”

Her heart soared, and an unspeakable joy blazed through her. She gazed into his eyes through a sheen of tears and whispered, “I love you too, Quentin.”

And deep inside her heart, buried so deep she’d been afraid to go anywhere near it, another truth echoed.
I always have.

“M
a? Where y’at?”

“In here, baby.”

Munching on a juicy apple he’d swiped from the kitchen, Quentin followed the sound of his mother’s voice to the sunroom located at the rear of her house. She was humming softly as she folded linen napkins and placed them around a table set with her best china and crystal. A centerpiece of fresh-cut flowers from her garden perfumed the air.

“Howdy,” Quentin said around a mouthful of apple.

“Hey, June bug. How are—” She glanced up. And froze. “Lord have mercy,” she breathed, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

Quentin would have glanced over his shoulder to check for an apparition hovering behind him, but he knew the ghost his mother saw was reflected in his own face.

After several moments, Georgina Reddick blinked to clear her vision and let out a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry, baby. Goodness gracious. You look more and more like your daddy every day. It catches me by surprise sometimes.”

Quentin smiled quietly. “I know.”

She gazed at him a moment longer, then shook her head as if to banish the memories of her late husband, a police officer who’d been killed in the line of duty when Quentin was thirteen.

As she resumed folding napkins, Quentin sauntered over and leaned down to kiss her upturned cheek. Draping an arm around her shoulders, he surveyed the elegant place settings on the table. “Your turn to host the monthly book-club luncheon?”

“Sure is.” She sent him a sly smile. “The ladies will be happy to see you. You know how much they enjoy showing you photos of their daughters and nieces, hoping you might take a shine to one of them.”

At the thought of being ambushed by his mother’s matchmaking friends, Quentin grimaced. “What time do they get here?”

“Two o’clock.”

“I’ll be gone by one.”

Georgina laughed.

At sixty-three she was as beautiful as she’d ever been in her youth. With her smooth honey complexion, patrician features and luminous smile, she bore such a striking resemblance to the actress Lonette McKee that strangers often stopped her on the street and asked for her autograph, which tickled her to no end.

Quentin crunched into his apple. “Need help setting the table?”

“No, thank you. I’m almost finished.” She poked him playfully in the ribs. “You don’t know the proper way to fold napkins anyway.”

He grinned. “Didn’t seem like a skill I’d need in order to practice law.”

She laughed. “Go on with you, boy.”

Chuckling, Quentin wandered across the sun-drenched room, which was surrounded by walls of glass and overlooked a lushly manicured backyard. It was his mother’s favorite room in the elegant Victorian house he’d bought for her when he made partner at his old law firm. Although he knew he could never repay her for all she’d done for him, that had never stopped him from lavishing expensive gifts on her.