Quinn (The Beck Brothers #3) (5 page)

“I have this...thing...about people touching me. I
don’t...it’s hard to explain,” he rasped.

She frowned. “But I was touching you when we were walking
back here, and I have touched you many times at the office.”

He sighed. “I may not like it, but can handle little touches
here and there. When we were walking...I was more holding you up. You were just
hanging on for balance. At least, that’s how I justify it in my head.”

“Have you always been this way?” she asked quietly.

“For most of my life, yes,” he replied.

Margot’s mind worked. Something had to have happen to him to
make him this way. Touching was something that humans naturally craved and
sought out. It wasn’t normal for one to shy away from touch.
 

“Are there certain places that you do not like to be touched
or is it all over?”

“All over,” Quinn said tightly.

“You do not share this with many people, do you?” she asked
gently. She could tell he was struggling to answer her questions. She was
positive he just wanted to remain quiet like he usually did.

Quinn shook his head.

“What have all the other women you have been with thought?”

He snorted then smiled. “They all thought I was into
bondage.”

 
Margot couldn’t
stop the giggle that bubbled out of her. Quinn into bondage? That
was
funny. Quinn turned his head to look at
her again. He looked hesitant and a bit self-conscious. It broke her heart.

“I didn’t hurt your wrists, did I?” Quinn frowned.

She looked at him as if he was crazy. “Non! Definitely not!”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Good.”

“Thank you for answering my question,” Margot said
sincerely.

Quinn pursed his lips and nodded without looking at her.

Silence fell between them. After a minute, Quinn got up and
walked into the bathroom naked, and Margot watched him. He had a beautiful
derrière. She loved the way he walked, too; he just had a sexy, laid-back kind
of gait that looked even better when he was naked. Margot slipped off the bed
so that she could turn down the comforter and slip under the sheet. She snuggled
down into the pillow and waited for Quinn to come back. She heard the toilet
flush and the water run for a moment before he came out.

His body was exquisite. He had big broad shoulders that
tapered down to a trim waist. His chest and abs were defined, corded with
muscle, and had a dusting of dark hair. His biceps had to be the size of her
head. Okay, she might have been exaggerating a little, but they were still big.
She could see the muscles move in his legs when he walked. To top it all off,
he was a very well endowed man - long and thick, magnificent, glorious,
incredible. Need she say more? Maybe later, but right now she was exhausted and
could not keep her eyes open for another second.

~~~~~~

Christian sang softly while taking a shower before work. He
owned his own art gallery. Well, it was a studio and gallery. During the week,
Christian taught painting and drawing classes to anyone who was interested. He
even had classes for children. On the weekends, he would display his art and
his students’ art.
 
He would sell
his art, but his students’ works were for display only. He would also host
birthday parties on the weekends in the afternoons. Christian absolutely loved
what he did. He was the only one in his family who was artistic. It was his
passion and the only thing that he ever wanted to do with his life. So with his
brother’s help, he got his studio up and running, making enough money to pay
his bills and feed his clothes fetish.

The shower curtain suddenly yanked back and a pitcher of
ice-cold water was thrown at his back. Christian screamed and tried to get out
of the way, which was impossible in such a small space, as the freezing cold
water hit his back. The culprit started laughing hysterically. Christian shoved
the other side of the curtain aside to glare angrily at his best friend, Shea
Dempsey, who was filming the whole thing with his phone.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Christian snapped.

“Oh come on, that shit was funny!” Shea laughed.

“I hate you,” he snarled and yanked the shower curtain back
in place.

“Aw, you love me and you know it,” Shea chuckled.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked.

Christian has been friends with Shea for as long as he could
remember. They did everything together. They went to grade school and high
school together, even went to college together. The only time that they were
apart was when Shea went to Europe with his family a couple of years ago. He
was gone for about six months, and it was torturous for Christian. He was sure
that Shea had a hard time with it, also.

“Eh, I was on my way to work. Figured I’d stop by and fuck
with you a little bit,” Shea said nonchalantly.

“Gee thanks,” Christian said dryly.

Shea was
always
playing jokes and pranks on him. Christian has gotten him good a time or two,
but Shea was constantly coming up with something new. It was one of the things that
he loved most about Shea; there was never a dull moment.
 

“How’s your heart? You okay? Did it give out? Are you gonna
puke?” Shea teased.

He was also always making fun of Christian’s anxiety
problem, too. Christian thought he did it to try to distract him from whatever
was making him anxious. Sometimes it actually worked, other times it pissed
Christian off, especially when he was anxious about something serious.

“Screw you, dickhead,” Christian muttered.

“No thanks, that’s your thing,” Shea chuckled.

He rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

“I’ll go make some coffee,” Shea said, his voice still
tinged with amusement.

Christian muttered to himself as he finished his shower.
Shea was crazy. Christian got out of the shower and dried off. He wrapped the
towel around his waist and went into his bedroom, which was right next door to
the bathroom. He got dressed in a pair of dark gray slacks and a white button
down shirt that he tucked into his pants. He put on a black belt and black
dress shoes. Christian did his hair, checked himself out in the mirror, and
headed downstairs.

Shea was lounging at the table sipping at a cup of coffee
while reading the newspaper. He was in his work clothes, which consisted of
tattered jeans, a beat up long sleeved T-shirt that used to be white, and tan
work boots. He was a licensed contractor; it was pointless for him to wear nice
clothes since he would be dirty by the end of the day. If Christian was honest
with himself, Shea looked damn fine in his work clothes.

Christian was gay, and Shea was the only one who knew.
Christian just hasn’t had the guts to tell his family. He has three older
brothers who are the epitome of everything male. They are all big, buff, and
loved women. Not that Christian was small, but he was smaller than they were.
He was scared to death at how they would react. He loved his brothers and he
wouldn’t be able to stand it if they couldn’t accept him for being gay.

Christian was also in love with Shea - his best friend
who...was
not
gay. He
didn’t know how it happened or when, but he was. He realized it when Shea went
to Europe. It was slowly killing Christian, too. It was extremely hard being in
love with someone who would never fall in love with you back. Christian figured
if wanted to keep his friendship with Shea, he needed to keep his mouth shut
about his feelings because he didn’t know what Shea would do if he ever found
out.

Shea Dempsey was a ruggedly handsome man; he was a bit
shorter than Christian at six feet two inches. Shea was thin and toned like
Christian, and didn’t need to work out because his job was physically demanding
enough to keep him in shape. His dark hair was cropped short and he’s had the
same goatee on his face since he was able to grow facial hair. He kept it short
and neat. He also has warm, laughing dark brown eyes that Christian swore he
could stare into all day and night.

“There’s an open mic night at The Raven Lounge on Wednesday
at 9:45 pm,” Shea murmured, sipping his coffee.

Christian groaned and hung his head. “Dude, I’ve told you a
million times already. I’m not singing at an open mic night.”

“Why the hell not? You’re wasting your voice by not sharing
it with the world,” Shea argued, setting the paper down on the table.

“Shea, I can barely sing in front of you, let alone a bar
full of people,” Christian muttered as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Which I don’t understand. You have an incredible voice, and
I could listen to you sing for hours,” Shea said.

“I appreciate that, Shea. I really do. But you and I both
know that as soon as I step onto that stage, I’d be puking all over the front
row.”
 
Christian sighed.

Shea chuckled low. “Yeah, probably.”

Alright, so Christian had another secret that he hid from
everyone except Shea. He could sing, and sing really well. He went to a vocal
coach for years that no one in his family knew about. Shea once said he sounded
like a mixture of Bruno Mars and Jason Mraz - a little raspy, a little jazzy, a
little poppy, and a whole lot of incredible.
 
Christian also played the guitar, but his family did know
about the guitar since he started playing when he was eight.

Shea hung around for a few more minutes before having to
head to work. Christian sighed heavily. He felt like he had a billion pounds on
his shoulders. He was keeping so many things inside that sometimes he just felt
like he was drowning. Some days, he just wanted to blurt it all out, but the fear
of losing his family was greater. So he kept it all inside, and prayed that he
wouldn’t explode.

~~~~~

Margot stared down at the still sleeping Quinn. She was
going to have to wake him, but she just wanted to look at him for a moment
longer. He was sleeping on his stomach, clutching a pillow to his chest. His
hair flattened to his forehead, and the sheet covered one leg and part of his
derrière. The leg that was bare was pulled up so that his knee was almost level
with his hip. It was a beautiful view. She hated to have to wake him, but he
needed to get ready for the seminar.

“Quinn?” Margot called.

Nothing. He did not even twitch.

“Quinn,” she tried again, and got nothing, again.

Okay, so he was obviously a heavy sleeper.

Margot smoothed her hand over his soft hair. “Quinn,” she
said a little louder.

Quinn sucked in a deep breath and shifted. He rolled his
hips against the bed, making the muscles in his behind flex. Margot bit her lip
and fought the urge to smack his tush, or pinch it. She would love to bite it.
She knew without a doubt that Quinn would not like that.

“Quinn,” she said again, this time placing her hand on his
shoulder.

Quinn’s head popped up. “Huh? What?” he grunted and looked
around with one eye cracked open.

“Quinn, you need to get up and get ready,” Margot said,
taking her hand back before he noticed that she was touching him.

“For what?” Quinn grumbled, dropping his head back down to
the pillow.

“The seminar? We need to leave in an hour.”

“God dammit.” He sighed.