Rebecca Zanetti - Under the Covers

“You’ll have to discover that for yourself, darlin’.” He grinned. “Why don’t you start with my mouth?”

“Why don’t I,” she murmured, brushing his lips with hers.

His mouth captured hers. Deep, strong, he commanded the kiss like he did everything else in his life. Liquid fire rippled through her. Wetness coated her thighs. Her lips trembled and parted for him. He angled his head, depending the kiss.

A click resounded inside her head. Fire and home. She was home.

At the frightening thought, she lifted her head. Her breath panted out. Tingles erupted on her lips.

“I wasn’t quite done kissing you, Juliet,” he rumbled, his dark gaze on her mouth.

“What makes you think you’re always in charge?” She slid her knees up to straddle him.

He grinned and slipped his fingers in the waistband of her panties. “If I were in charge, you wouldn’t still be wearing these.” A quick tug, and he yanked them off.

She settled back into place and lifted an eyebrow. “I’m no longer wearing those.”

“I guess I am in charge.” He flipped them over and thrust inside her with one strong push.

With the shock of his entry, she cried out, her body arching into his. Mini-explosions rocketed through her sex. Flashes of light erupted behind her closed eyes. Need cut into her with sharp, demanding blades.

She tangled her hands in his hair, rearing up to kiss him. Hard.

He returned the kiss, his movements slow and drugging. Sexy and deep, he kissed her, consuming all her fear and uncertainty. She relaxed into the safe cocoon created by Quinn Lodge, melted into him with a sense of trust she’d never shared with another person.

His body impaling hers, his mouth destroying hers, he stripped her of any lingering defenses.

Finally, he lifted his head. “You are the most perfect creature I could’ve ever imagined.”

She swallowed, her eyes widening, her heart softening. “Quinn—”

“Shh.” He kissed her again, pulling almost out and then sliding back home. “Just feel.”

So she did. She slid her hands down to his shoulders. Muscles bunched against her palms as his mouth wandered along her jawline and down her neck.

He pushed hard into her, his pelvis slanting against her clit. Heat zipped up to her breasts, pebbling her nipples. His chest brushed the sensitive buds as he increased his speed, pounding into her until the headboard banged the wall.

Her thighs clasped his, and she tilted up to take more of him. To take all of him.

He thrust harder, his fingers digging into her hip. A ball of fire slowly uncoiled inside her. Then, with a flash of lightning, it detonated into a series of explosions that arched her back. She cried out his name, her nails digging into his skin. Wave upon wave of electric pleasure pumped through her until finally, she went limp.

With a growl of her name, he ground against her and came.

After several deep breaths, he dropped his forehead to hers. The friendly intimacy slid contentment into her smile. She patted his shoulder. “Sorry about the fingernails.”

“I’ll wear your marks any day.” He withdrew, smiling at her brief whine of protest.

He rolled to the side and spooned her in safety and warmth. “I like having you here, Juliet.”

“I like being here.” She rubbed his arm. “I’m sorry you had a rough night.”

“The night just got a hell of a lot better…and drop the society tone. I’m not too tired to spank you.” Lazy amusement colored his voice, yet an edge always lived within Quinn.

She swallowed. “That’s how I speak.”

“Only when you’re uncomfortable or trying to control a situation.” He tightened his hold. “Before I forget, I was hoping you and Sophie would take Anne Rush out this weekend. Maybe to a dinner and movie or something like that. My mom agreed to babysit her kids.”

Juliet snuggled into the pillow. “Sure. I’ve met Anne quite a few times and really like her. Why are you her social organizer?”

“I think the woman needs a night out. Her husband is still overseas, and she needs a break.”

The tough, gun-toting sheriff was a softy. “I’d be happy to help.” A sudden vision of what life could be like if she stayed with Quinn filled Juliet’s mind. She’d be called upon to help with the community, to be a part of so many lives. The sharp desire to be included in such a way stunned her.

“Thanks.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, his voice slurring with exhaustion. “I’m excited for your showing tomorrow night. You’re my date, right?”

Her smile heated her cheeks. “Yes. I’m your date.”

“Excellent.”

Time to tell him everything.

Quinn began snoring in her ear. Poor guy was exhausted. Well, she’d take the reprieve and tell him all in the morning. Yes, she was a coward and was just fine with that.

She closed her eyes, but her mind kept wandering to the showing. Had she gotten everything ready? What if she’d forgotten something? And where the heck was her laptop? While she’d backed everything up, having her gallery invaded gave her the creeps. Was her past catching up with her?

Finally, she dropped into sleep.

She’d slept for a while before something startled her awake. Her heart smacked against her ribs. She gazed around the unfamiliar room.

A low growl jerked her head up. She slowly turned and scooted up in the bed.

Quinn lay on his side, sweat dotting his upper back. The bedcovers had been shoved to his waist. A tortured groan roiled from his gut.

She forgot his instructions and reached out to place a cool hand on his shoulders.

He moved faster than she could’ve imagined, rolling over, forcing her down, and pinning her with his body. One broad hand wrapped around her throat. His heart beat hard enough she could feel it through her chest.

“Quinn,” she whispered, her trembling hands caressing his chest. “Quinn? It’s me, Juliet. Wake up, baby.”

His eyes shot open. They weren’t focused. His hold tightened.

“Quinn, wake up.” She put more force into her whisper. “Wake up, now.”

Awareness filtered into his dark eyes, followed quickly by horror. He moved his hand. “Jesus, Juliet. I’m sorry.” He made to roll off her.

She shot her legs around his waist and her hands onto his shoulders. “Don’t move away.”

He closed his eyes and his body vibrated. “Let go of me.”

“No.” She caressed his chest. “I’m okay. You’re fine. You had a nightmare, and you didn’t hurt me.” She rubbed his whiskers. “Open your eyes.”

He did, and the regret in them broke her heart. So she smiled. “I’m fine. You move like an old, slow mare.”

An unwilling smile lifted his lip. “I’m neither old nor slow.”

His grin relaxed her shoulders. “Unfortunately, you were so slow, I was afraid I’d hurt you, Sheriff. We might need to get you a personal trainer.”

He snorted. “A trainer?”

“Don’t worry. I took a karate class years ago. I’ll protect us.”

He lowered himself onto his elbows. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Nope. Not at all.” She could help him through this—she really could. “I promise.”

“Did I scare you?” He lost his smile.

“No.” She kept hers in place. “Honest. I knew you’d never hurt me—and you didn’t.”

Uncertainty had him pausing. “All right.” His phone buzzed from the table. He grabbed and pressed it to his ear. “Lodge.” He sighed. “I’ll be right there.” Hanging up, he dropped a kiss on Juliet’s mouth. “Home invasion on the south side of the county. Gotta go, darlin’.” He kissed her deeper until all her bones turned to mush. “I’m looking forward to our date tonight and your amazing gallery opening.”

“Me, too.”

He sat up, his back to her. “Juliet? This, um, means a lot. That you’re here and willing to work on this. That you trust me.”

The words slammed her in the stomach. She trusted him not to hurt her, but hadn’t trusted him to still love her once he knew the truth. “I do trust you—and I, ah, have a lot to tell you.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Now?”

“No. You have to go, and I need to finish getting ready for the show. Tonight, after the show, I’d like to tell you about my crazy family and the trouble they’ve gotten me in.”

He smiled and somehow, the world brightened. “I look forward to it.”

Juliet forced an answering smile. “Me, too.”

The gallery opening and art showing was a huge success. People packed the gallery, although the show would end in less than ten minutes. Juliet wound through bodies, her cheeks flushed.

Reaching Sophie’s side, she leaned over to whisper, “I’ve had six offers on Storm over Maverick.” The incredible oil was alive with dark thunderclouds and jagged lightning. “You’re going to need to meet with your tax guy to plan next year.”

Sophie beamed. “How wonderful.” She tipped back her head and finished her sparkling cider. “A reporter from Los Angeles interviewed me. He’s doing a piece on Western art and how the modern paintings compare with the early Remington, Gollings, and Seltzer work.”

Juliet clapped her hands. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I, of course, mentioned the Maverick Gallery at least ten times.”

Juliet grabbed another flute of cider from a bustling waiter and handed the bubbly to the star of the hour. “You’re a good friend, Sophie Lodge.”

“Ah, Juliet…I’m hoping we end up more than friends.” Sophie glanced over to where Quinn and Jake huddled near an open window. “That man is in love.”

“So am I.” Juliet’s gaze ran over the sheriff. Even in the dark suit with a crisp white shirt, a sense of wildness surrounded the man. Contained wildness.