Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(67)

We took a long time in the shower, because the way the soap ran down her curves and her tits as she washed her hair distracted me.

“Stop touching me,” she groaned when I pushed her against the wall. “I’m going to be late.”

“Fuck that job,” I said, taking her lips in mine. She laughed against me.

“Would you say f*ck your job and skip work tomorrow if I asked you to?” she asked.

I pulled back, grazing the pad of my thumb over her nipple. She groaned and pushed onto me. I held her gaze.

“I would. If you asked me to, I would,” I said, and I meant it. If she asked me to take a day off, I’d do it. She looked as surprised as I felt. Without another word, she lifted herself up and wrapped her legs around my waist, clinging on to me.

“I’m really sore,” she whispered. “Really sore. But I want you.”

I shook my head, holding her in place. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her blue eyes searched mine. “Rain check?”

I nodded with a smile. She must have sensed my uneasiness, because she narrowed her eyes.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She looked at me for a beat longer before putting her legs down and turning around to finish washing. My heart dropped to my stomach. I felt like shit. I didn’t make promises I didn’t keep. Ever. And that was one I wasn’t sure I could keep even if I wanted to. I tried to put it out of my mind. No use in thinking about it now. I’d deal with it when I had to. I needed to meet with Quinn before I jumped to any conclusions. We ordered breakfast and took it on the road. We were both quiet, contemplative, as if we’d been changed by our little outing. Maybe we had been. Whenever I looked over at her, she looked like she was lost in thought. In an effort not to rock the boat, I didn’t say anything at all.

We kissed when I dropped her off in front of the lot, and she thanked me.

“I’ll get a ride to your parents’ house,” she said. “I have your mom and Estelle’s number, so I’ll be fine if you’re busy.”

Why would I be busy? I wanted to ask, but didn’t. Instead I nodded.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she got out of the car, her back facing me.

“Thank you,” I whispered back, wanting to reach out to touch her. Instead, I let her go. I wasn’t sure I could watch her walk away again, so I turned my face and looked the other way. And I think we both knew it was more than just a drop off.




“Who did you piss off?” was the first thing Quinn asked upon my answering my phone the following day.

I’d heard from Nicole late last night when she was still at work and I could hear the exhaustion in her voice as we spoke, so I kept the conversation short. Short and sweet, though it didn’t feel that way, because after we hung up I felt like I couldn’t bear to listen to her voice again until this thing with the pictures got resolved, which was what I hoped to do today.

“I’m assuming you’re going to spit it out and not make me beat it out of you,” I responded. Quinn laughed.

“Are you in the area?”

“I actually am,” I said as I drove past the café he and I frequented. “Usual spot?”

“Be there in five. Bring your laptop.”

The call ended and my Bluetooth shut off, the sound of classical music circulating the airwave of my car again. I turned the steering wheel and made a U-turn at the light, going back to the café. We pulled up at the same time, me in my Jaguar, and Quinn in his Mercedes-Maybach S600. The guy had made a killing exploiting celebrities and reaped the benefits quite openly with his extravagant purchases. He had a different car for every day of the week and mansions in three different countries; all of them worth more money than I’d probably ever see in my lifetime. He gave his keys to the valet, walking around the back with an oomph in his step that made women’s heads turn. He was a cocky motherf*cker. Rightfully so. His smile was wide as I approached and he leaned in to give me a side hug.

“My man,” he said.

“Just when I was starting to think the world may be a peaceful place,” I said, backing out of the hug. “The devil himself calls me up.”

Quinn chuckled. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

I shook my head, smiling as we walked into the café and walked toward the table in the upper right corner. We always sat at the same one. Even when I came in without him, I saw him at the same one.

“Do you lease this table?”

“Basically,” he said, smiling. I could tell there was something more to his smile, but didn’t ask. Quinn had a don’t-tell policy, and while he’d shared private things about his life with me in the past, he tried to avoid getting personal with anyone.

“What do you have for me?” I asked after we each ordered our food and drinks.

His brows rose as he sat back in his seat, and lifted the glass of water to his mouth. “How many clients do you have right now?”

He loved playing a game of cat and mouse before handing out cheese. I ran through my mental catalogue, knowing he wouldn’t meet me to give me bullshit stories about closed cases. He knew what high-profile divorces I was working on. With the media, it was impossible for anybody not to know. Something about the gleam in his eyes made me uneasy. I narrowed my eyes a bit.