Behind Your Back (10 page)

I should call Cash and tell him I need out. I should back away from this assignment. But even as I walk to my desk to get out the burner phone, I know I can’t. I’m stubborn. Once I start something, I need to finish it. And I will finish it. I will take down her father. She’s just part of the process. A very enjoyable, confusing, frustrating part.

I
call her as soon as I get home from work. It feels strange talking to her on the phone while I’m in my apartment. Almost as if she can see me and know what I’m doing and what I’m up to.

Saige will never come here.

“Hello?” she says, her voice low and sweet. She knows it’s me.

“Hello, Saige Beaumont. You told me to call you, so here I am, holding up my end of the bargain.” I lean back in the cracked leather recliner and sip a cold beer. I think I’m going to enjoy this. It’s easier to think on my feet when she’s not standing in front of me and messing with my mind.

“Well, I like that you follow through. That’s good to know about you.”

“I always follow through.” As evidenced by last night. She still hasn’t mentioned it and I’m beginning to wonder why. Is she embarrassed? Did I push her too far? Or is she waiting for me?

“I like that in a man. So many say they’re going to do something and never execute.” Good, it sounds like I’m earning her trust.

“My middle name is Reliable,” I say, making a joke.

“What is your middle name? Your real one?”

“I don’t have one. Just Quinn Brand.” Another lie. My middle name is Hudson, after my mother’s father. “And what’s
your
middle name?” I know it, but I have to ask anyway.

“Juliette. With two Ts and an E at the end. Not like the girl from the Shakespeare play.” I say her name in my mind, even though I’ve known it for a while. Somehow it suits her.

“So, what did you get up to after I left your office?” I’m not going to tell her the truth, that I was so hard I had to get myself off before I could get any work done.

“Oh, this and that. Money. Numbers. Boring math.” She chuckles, as if she knows I’m lying.

“I’m sure it was a terribly dull afternoon.”

“It was. And you?”

“Class.”

“Which ones?” I have her schedule memorized, but I don’t know much about the content. What she actually does.

“Well, I had drawing, which I hate. I signed up for it because I figured you can’t understand art until you know how to create it, so there you are. We had a nude model.”

“Male or female?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

She giggles, and it’s a sound I haven’t heard before. Adorable. Flirtatious. Young.

“Why do you want to know? Would it make you jealous to know that I was drawing a naked man?” No. Yes. No. Definitely not. She’s an assignment, nothing more. Jealousy isn’t part of the equation. But I can play it up for her.

“Maybe. Seeing as how last night I was the one with my cock inside you.” I take another sip of beer as I wait for her response.

“Well, I wanted to see if you were a man of your word. Nothing more than that. By the way, it was a female model.”

“You didn’t want me? Well, you should have said so.”

That makes her laugh.

“I can’t deny I enjoyed it. My dress, however, did not. It’s quite shredded and I don’t know how I’m ever going to explain how it got that way.”

“I’ll buy you a new one. It is my fault it’s ruined.”

“No, don’t worry about it. Next time I’ll wear something more durable.”

“Next time?”

“Next time,” she says with finality.

“What are you doing right now?” I ask. I just saw her last night. And today. But things are moving fast and I have to stay ahead of the game.

“Nothing. Just homework. Do you want to know what I’m wearing?” She dips her voice low, seductive.

“Maybe. Tell me.” There’s rustling, as if she’s shifting and I have an image of her lying in bed with a book in one hand, her hair loose and spread across the pillow.

“Should I tell you the truth or lie?”

“Tell me one and I’ll decide if it’s the truth or a lie.”

“I like that idea. Let’s see, I’m wearing a faded blue t-shirt that I got one summer when I was a camp counselor. It’s so thin that you can see right through it, but I can’t bring myself to throw it out.”

“And under it?”

“Nothing.” I close my eyes and I can see it. I was wrong about not having her here giving me a clear mind. Even imagining her is enough to muddle my thoughts.

“Bottoms?” I ask and my voice is rough.

“Just a pair of shorts from school. They have the eagle logo on the sides. And knee-high black socks with skulls on them.”

Well fuck me. I don’t know if this is the real or the fake outfit and it doesn’t matter.

“I’ll be over in fifteen minutes to see if you’re lying.” I hang up before she can say anything. I can’t wear what I’ve currently got on, so I head to my closet and pick something without even looking at it.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I shouldn’t be this eager. But I shut that part of my brain off as I grab the keys for the BMW.

“D
id you run here?” she asks as she opens the door.

“You’re a liar,” I say, looking her up and down.

“Am I?”

“Those socks have rabbits on them. You said skulls.” Other than that one little slip, the rest of her is exactly as she described. Her eyes are free of liner and her lips are free of the red lipstick. She’s scrubbed clean and relaxed as she lets me in.

Her place is just like I thought it would be. Simple, but with little twists here and there. She has a skull on the table by the door for her keys, and a painting of a bleeding heart on the wall above the couch. The colors are mostly muted to show off the few bright accents.

“I did say skulls, didn’t I?” she says, looking down at the socks. “Huh. Anyway…” she starts to say, but I lean down and kiss her mouth.

“What was that for?” she asks when I pull away. I was able to restrain myself from throwing her over my shoulder and taking her to the bedroom, but just barely.

“I wanted to.” She runs a hand through her hair. Some of it is sticking up, like she’d been lying back on it and had just gotten up.

She backs up and gestures.

“So, this is it. I wasn’t expecting you to see it so soon, but oh well.” I’m not sure why she’s worried. The place is cluttered, but neat.

“It’s nice,” I say as she backs toward the kitchen.

“Can I get you something? Coffee?” I didn’t really come here with coffee on my mind, but sure, why not.

“That would be great,” I say as she starts messing with an espresso machine.

“Fancy,” I say, stepping closer. She smashes her hand against the thing and makes a face.

“Yeah, when it works. Most of the time I have to beat it into submission. I tried handcuffs and a whip, but it safeworded out.” A laugh bursts from my mouth.

She whacks the machine again and it starts making a gurgling noise before dispensing coffee into a cup.

“Cream or sugar?” I shake my head and take the steaming cup from her as she repeats the process until she has a cup for herself. She adds a dash of cream and sugar and stirs it with a silver chopstick she pulls from a drawer.

“I must confess I feel a little underdressed,” she says, looking down again. I have to force my eyes upward so I don’t stare at just how thin the t-shirt is. She’s definitely not wearing anything under it, and I might be crazy, but I think her nipples are pierced.

“You look fine to me,” I say, sipping the coffee. Damn, it’s good. I haven’t had a good cup of coffee in a while. She shrugs and then pirouettes on her toes, being careful not to spill her coffee before she heads to the living room. I follow her. She sits on the couch and tucks her feet up. She looks so young right now. Young and vulnerable. Young and vulnerable and fuckable.

But I decide to be a gentleman and sit down on the other end of the couch with enough space for another person to sit between us.

This time, our silence is scented with awkwardness. I take another sip of coffee and clear my throat.

“Do you not want me here? I sort of invited myself in.” She laughs once.

“Believe me, if I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be sitting on my couch. I have a very protective father who would do anything I asked him to.” This, I know.

“Ah, I see,” I say, as if I don’t already know. “So I should probably keep my hands to myself.” She sets her coffee down and leans toward me.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Seems selfish. You don’t want to share your hands?” She leans on her arms and crawls toward me. I have to set my coffee down or else I’ll spill it in my lap. That would probably kill the mood.

“Oh, you want me to share, Saige Beaumont?” I spread my fingers in front of her face and look at her through them.

“Yes, I would
love
you to share, Quinn Brand. I want you to share all sorts of things with me.” I lean toward her and stop, with our faces only inches apart.

“Well, you know what they say.”

“What’s that?” she breathes.

“Sharing is caring.” I take both hands and hold her face, bringing it toward my mouth. This time the kiss is sweet. Subtle. Teasing.

But I don’t care. Not about her, anyway. I care about getting what I need.

I tell myself this even as she licks the seam of my lips and I open my mouth to let her in. She’ll never get inside me. Inside my soul. No one will ever go there. The person who gets the closest is Lizzy. Maybe Cash. But no one else. I closed that door and locked it a long time ago.

Saige pulls away and studies my face.

“I can tell when you’re thinking.”

I don’t answer her. She bites her bottom lip and then props herself up with her arms. If I’d thought she was fuckable before, it’s nothing to how she looks now. Still sweet and vulnerable, but with a side of vixen.

I turn a little and she crawls all the way over me, straddling my lap. If there was any question about me wanting her, it’s put to rest as she grinds herself against me. Her fingers creep up my chest and come to rest around the back of my neck.

“What do you want from me?” she asks and the echo of a chill runs down my back. I give her what I hope is an easy smile.

“I don’t want anything from you.” She smiles back at me and rolls her hips. I have to bite back a groan.

“Liar,” she says. “Everyone wants something. So. What do you want?”

For one wild second, I think about telling her. Just to see her reaction. I’d never do something so stupid, but this is the first time I’ve even begun to consider what would happen if I did.

“Right now I want you to keep doing that,” I say, brushing my hands down her sides and letting them rest on her hips. She’s soft and generous in that department. More than enough to grab onto. I dig my fingers in and she stares down at me.

“That’s not all you want,” she says.

“You’re right. I want a whole lot more from you.” Yet again, I tell her the truth, but she has no idea.

“Like this?” she says and then kisses me again.