Quinn I (Undaunted Men #1) (9 page)

“Lexi, wake up.” A deep voice fades in and out as I stir awake. My heart is pounding out of control, and as I open my eyes, I’m met with a dark, looming shadow hovering over me. Still half asleep, I think it's Vince; he's back. A loud, piercing scream fills the night air, and then it registers that the noise is coming from me. Between my screams, and Quinn shaking me, I've come to. I find I'm shaking like a leaf, my skin feeling cold and clammy.

“Lexi, it’s okay. I’m here.” Quinn's voice still fades in and out as he tries to calm me down, but I seriously doubt he can take away the torment I’m in. I’m not sure anyone can fix my hellish nightmare. “God, Lexi, what the hell is going on?” Even though he’s gently shaking me, his hands are gripping my shoulders fiercely, his fingers digging into my skin. I swallow, but there is nothing there; my mouth is dry as a desert. All I can do is pant with heavy, agitated breaths.
 

Quinn gives up on getting me to speak and pulls me into his arms, encircling me in his strength as if he can protect me. I rest my head against his chest, his heart beating wildly, just like mine. I must’ve pulled him from a dead sleep and scared the shit out him.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Quinn.”

“Hush. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad I was here. I think you woke up the entire mountain side, though. No way in hell any bear would come within five miles of that kind of screaming.” By his tone, he's trying to make light of the situation, but I know he's unsettled, too.

He pulls his upper body back, trying to look at me, but it’s too dark to see his full features. “You want to talk about this?” he softly asks. I shake my head. I’m so damn shaken up I don’t know what to do. All I know is that being in Quinn’s arms is the only place that feels good right now.

“Slow, deep breaths, baby. You’re still hyperventilating,” his voice was unsettled and full of concern. I try my best to breathe in deep, measured breaths to calm my racing heart, but I can't. “Yeah, you’re not sleeping alone,” he affirms in conclusion, talking to himself. He starts to back away from me, but I cling to him, not willing to let him go; he's my life-line right now. “Hey,” he reassures me, “I’m not going anywhere, okay? Let me fix our sleeping bags so I can get us both comfortable, and then I’ll hold you. It’s cold out here.”

I nod my head, and I’m not sure if he can see me agreeing with him, so I manage to rasp out, “Yeah, okay.” I reluctantly let him go, and instantly I'm keyed up all over again. I nervously twist my fingers into knots as I wait for him to hold me again. He unzips my bag, and then he gently takes me by the elbow, helping me scoot out of my warm cocoon.
 

I feel like a helpless, frightened five-year-old as I wait for Quinn to fix our bags. He’s right; it is cold outside of our sleeping bags. The midnight mountain air accosts my clammy skin, and I shiver, goose bumps erupting from head to toe. I don’t know how he’s seeing anything in this darkness, but he appears to be managing just fine. As I sit here on my knees, Kimber nudges me for attention, and I pull her into me.

In the dim light I can see when he slips inside, and wedges himself against the far end of the sleeping bag. “Come here, Lexi,” he softly whispers. He holds open the side of the sleeping bag in invitation. I give Kimber a kiss on the top of her head, and then tuck myself in beside Quinn. Both the flannel material and his body heat comforts me the second I've sidled up to him. He reaches over me to zip up the side of our combined sleeping bags, encasing us both into one sleeping bag. He then settles back down, pulling me in against his muscled warmth. He firmly depresses my head, urging me to rest my head against his broad chest. I comply, resting my cheek against his steady heartbeat as he tries to comfort me. Kimber settles down at the bottom of our feet, and curls up in a ball. I relish the feel of both her and Quinn touching me; it's comforting.

I’m still a long way off from being calm, but Quinn works hard to soothe my nerves, speaking soft words while he rubs the tense muscles on the back of my neck. So many things are racing through my mind all at once. I can’t believe I just dreamed about part of my fucked-up morning from yesterday, having to relive the horror in my sleep. I’ve never dreamt about real life events from the past before.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Quinn soothes. “You’re still breathing erratically. As long as I’m here, no one is going to haunt you. I will keep them out of your dreams.” I nod my head into his chest, acknowledging him. He's working hard to calm me down.
 

I'm full of overwrought tension, and my fingers curl into a fist against his chest. “Please, don’t let me go,” I whimper, wishing he had a shirt on so I could twist it in my hands. I don’t know what to do with all this nervous, displaced energy.

“Shh, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he softly assures me. He takes my fidgety hand in his and holds it tightly against the center of his chest, stilling my movements. “I’m right here. Everything is going to be all right now.” The assurance and warmth of his voice washes over me, and the way his strength surrounds me, I begin to settle down. Being wrapped in his arms this way, he feels like a familiar lover, I don't perceive him to be the stranger he actually is.
 

My tense muscles begin to loosen, and as I steal a deep, calming breath, he murmurs over my head. I close my eyes and soak in the sound of his deep, rich, and self-assured voice. As I take solace in his arms, I foolishly tell myself Quinn is willing and very capable of keeping all my demons at bay. If only this were true. The steady rhythm of his beating heart becomes my focal point, and eventually I’m able to drift back to sleep.

Slowly rousing from a deep sleep, I wake to find myself in a heated tangle. I suck in a quick breath, realizing I’m in Quinn's sleeping bag.
What the hell?
My heart rate increases exponentially. I’m trapped, my back to his front, and all of his extremities are wrapped around me like an octopus. Even Kimber has taken up residence at the bottom of my feet, making it impossible for me to move.

My limbs stay frozen as I lie here taking shallow breaths, thinking back to the moment during the night when this happened.
Oh yeah, I remember now.
Vince, Griffen, and the whole mess comes flooding back to me. A shiver rolls through me, the horrific memory of my nightmare having become my new reality.

Quinn, for being a stranger, went above and beyond the call of duty last night. He came to my rescue in a heartbeat, shaking me awake, and was so sweet and attentive. I was a hyperventilating mass of nerves, and he worked extra hard at trying to calm me down.
 

Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was this ruggedly handsome, sexy man who was able to distract me from my woes. I distinctly remember his gentle caresses and soft words. His warm embrace throughout the night made me feel safe and secure. The odd thing is, he held me as if he genuinely cared, and God if I didn’t soak that up. It seems like forever since I had lain in a man's arms.
 

Slowly, I carefully slip my arm outside of the confines of the bag, trying not to disturb him. I fumble, searching for the zipper so I can quietly ease myself out. The second I feel the crisp morning air, which is cold and dewy on my arm, my body orders me not to escape his warmth quite yet. I’m warm and cozy wrapped up in his cocoon. Quinn's heavy, muscled arm squeezes me, pulling me tighter against his chiseled chest, preventing me from getting away. I’m smothered, but in a good way. Is it wrong of me to say he feels perfect pressed against me like this?
 

He pulls me from my musings, his nose nuzzling into the side of my neck, and then he softly exhales a warm breath that cascades over my exposed skin. Goose bumps erupt, and I shiver in response. The man is simply sinful. I want this feeling to last for as long as possible so I decide to revel in his sweet caresses. With everything I’ve been through, his touch is a calming balm, making for a welcome reprieve.

Quinn is still asleep; I can tell by his light, even breathing, but his hands have a mind of their own. His fingers slowly skirt underneath my t-shirt, splaying his heated hand on my stomach. His thumb begins drawing small, lazy circles along my abdomen. God help me, I’m suddenly on fire, and I ache for more.
 

His soft lips press against my neck, and I stifle a moan.
What the hell is he doing?
The span of his hand almost covers my entire stomach, resting low on my belly, causing flutters of arousal to stir within. I swallow hard against the lustful sensations he’s creating in me. I'm growing wet, and all he’s done is touch my stomach.
How in the hell is he doing this in his sleep?
 

He slides his hand along the waistband of my sweatpants with intent, and what he does next makes me lose my breath. His fingers easily slip underneath the elastic, and butterflies take flight. I don’t stop him; I can't. I'm frozen with both shock and desire. I’m soaking wet by the time his fingers trail down to my sex. He lazily roams past my clit and then slides his fingers between my wet folds. I should stop him, and tell my body a resounding no, but I do no such thing.
 

I’ve been starved for a real man’s touch for months on end. The last relationship I was in crushed me, and I had sworn off all men. I realize now I probably shouldn’t have sworn off sex, because…Oh hell, the thought goes out the window the second he slips his finger past my opening, penetrating me fully. He's stirring a strong hunger inside me, either one I've never felt before, or I had simply forgotten what this felt like.
 

There is no mistaking his stiff erection pressing against the curve of my ass. I think I’m going to combust when he sleepily thrusts his hips into me while he adds a second finger, pumping them into me.
Oh sweet, baby Jesus.

My core responds on its own by squeezing around his fingers, willing them to stay deep inside me. This is so wrong, so very inappropriate, and so out of character for me. I’m not an easy mark. In fact, I’ve never allowed myself to get intimate with a man I’ve just met. So why is it that I’m throwing all caution to the wind now? Oh yeah—because he’s a walking sex god.
   

He thrusts his hips into my backside again while his fingers work a perfect rhythm. He mumbles something incoherent before the warmth of his mouth presses sensual kisses along the length of my neck. A massive tremor rolls through my entire body in response.
           

“You cold, sweetheart?” he huskily breathes over my skin.
No, just shivering in a lusty haze,
but I can't answer; my breath is caught in my throat. “Don’t worry; I’m about to set you on fire,” he hums with his lips pressed to the sensitive spot right below my ear.
 

In a split second, I find myself on my back, and his fingers, never missing a beat, thrust themselves deeper inside me. I gasp for air. The lustful sensations coursing through my body have me spinning out of control. My chest rises and falls in rapid succession as I’m being bombarded with dirty, passionate nips and kisses along the length of my neck. These feelings of affection and ardor are definitely different, I’d remember a man making me feel this way before.

In one smooth motion, he stakes his claim on me by rolling his body halfway over mine. His bare chest rests against my erect nipples, and I arch my back, needing more friction. He's got me on fire. I grab his forearm, feeling his muscles flex beneath my hand. I want to feel his entire body weight pressed against me.

“So sexy,” his voice softly rumbles, “and so wet.”

The angel on my shoulder warns me I’m supposed to be on the run, not wanting to sleep with random, sexy strangers out in the middle of nowhere. The devil remarks it has been too long, and it feels too good. I deserve to feel cherished.

I clear my throat, but it doesn’t steady my voice; it comes out all breathy and wanton. “Quinn, what are you doing?”
 

He growls into the side of my neck, pulling my body tighter to his chest. “I want to be a mile deep inside of you, sweetheart. That's what I’m doing.”
 

Oh, geez, there is no way to calm my racing heart after that statement. I want him, too. Being this tangled up against someone so sexy, I listen to the devil on my other shoulder, and go for the one-night stand. I’m too weak to deny something that feels this heavenly.
     

He shifts his body to lay his full weight on top of me, and then takes my lips in a heated kiss. Oh God, his lips...they're soft and supple in contrast to his raging hard-on, which presses near my opening. God, his erection feels like a steel rod pressing against me. I close my eyes, imagining it’s his cock pumping into me instead of his fingers, and I'm coming undone. “Quinn,” I moan out his name in such a way he knows I need more. I’m wet and needy, my muscles trembling, feeling as if I’m on the verge of coming.

His mouth devours mine, becoming more intense, and when his tongue slips out, I open to him. When the warmth of his tongue touches mine, I die a thousand deaths. I’ve never felt this consumed, or experienced this level of sexual desire before. As his skilled tongue laves mine, he tastes a part of me very few men ever have. Everything from his touch, his kiss, to his smooth moves screams experience, dominance, and self-assurance. He knows what he wants as he takes me the way he wants, and I let him. I want to experience all his measured moves and passion.