Page 15

Cash

Any doubts I have about Quinn not wanting to be here, that maybe she's just going through the motions to please me, are put to rest by the following day. We made love a second, third, and fourth time last night before she collapsed on me, grinning, then curled up at my side and fell asleep in my arms.

I look down at her now in the late-morning sun, all sleep-warm and cheek pressed into the pillow, her curly hair a tangled mess around her head.

My eyes move over her body, along the side of her bare breast and down the curve of her spine, to where the sheet rests just at her hips.

She's my everything, with only the soft, measured sound of her breathing right next to me. I imagine if I wasn't such a fuck up, this would be my morning every morning, and I'd be the luckiest man in the world.

Except the problem is, I am a fuck-up. And without her, I'm a wreck. I've been watching her sleep peacefully for the past thirty minutes, etching every sacred inch of her into my memory because I'm scared this will be the last time I'll be with her like this.

She slept by my side all night like her body depended on my warmth to survive.

Her leg is still slung easily over my hip, and practically every inch of her bare skin touches practically every inch of mine.

And when she shifts in her sleep, she tightens her grip on the sheet at my waist.

It's almost enough to distract me from the fear of her leaving me again, to tempt me into waking her up and wearing her out one last time.

Having her in my bed like this makes every mistake, every drink, and every woman I've ever been with disappear into a dark, dormant part of my brain. Quinn has this incredible way of making my heart feel whole again. I do not know how I ever lived without her, but I know I'm not good enough for her.

She doesn't deserve my baggage, and it's more than unfair of me to weigh her down.

I need to sever Daniela from my life for good.

Which is why I had my lawyer serve her with divorce papers the day Quinn decided to come with me to Santa Anna.

It's a quarter after eight now, and I trail my finger down her arm, not wanting to wake her, certainly not wanting her to leave.

A fist pounding heavily on the door causes Quinn to stir but not wake. I sit up, panicked. Tossing the sheets off my body, I leave Quinn's side, put on underwear, and slide on a t-shirt. I stumble out into the living room and pull open the front door.

"Is this some sort of sick joke?" Daniela stands on the other side of the door, a frown on her lips and fire in her eyes. She holds out a stack of papers, waving them in my face.

Shit. Fuck.

I step out into the hallway and close the door behind me. The last thing I want is for Quinn to wake up to this.

"What are you doing here?" I ask through gritted teeth. "Aren't you supposed to be halfway across the country?"

"The second your lawyer served me, I booked the next flight to Santa Anna to tell you to go fuck yourself," she hisses.

She tosses the divorce papers in my direction. They smack against my chest and drop to the floor, scattering at my feet. I ran a hand through my hair, reminding myself that reaching out and strangling her would not help the situation.

"Go. Fuck. Yourself," she shouts.

I look at her and wonder if she's about to lose her sanity because I'm pretty sure I'm close to losing mine, too. The sight of her lip trembling, eyes wet with unshed tears, and body quivering makes me feel like I might throw up. The hurt in Daniela's voice tugs at me.

I never wanted to hurt her.

For the past four and a half years, I've done everything in my power not to have her hurt anymore. But I also need to accept her happiness is not my responsibility, especially if it hurts Quinn.

"Have you forgotten your obligation to me? Did you suffer some memory loss when that defender knocked your ass unconscious? I'm working off a green card, Cash. I can't apply for permanent residency if you up and divorced me. You promised me five years. You. Owe. Me. Doesn't Cory mean anything to you anymore?"

How dare she throw Cory in my face.

I swallow down the taste of bile, fighting every muscle in my face to stay as stoic as possible.

Daniela knows she has the power to guilt me into anything regarding Cory.

She's been doing it for four and a half years without a hitch. And I know Cory will always be my weakness, but she doesn't understand that she no longer holds my guilt in her hand.

"I understand you are upset, but I'm not playing games with you. I want Quinn. And I'm not scared anymore to endure unsavoury details about my past publicly. What we had wasn't real, Danni. You need to accept that."

"I'm never going to sign those papers," she says flatly.

Realizing there is no easy way to do this, I take a step closer to her and blurt out, "I never should have taken care of you."

"You should be in jail right now for what you did," Daniela growls, "instead of standing here with that damn smirk on your face."

"We've all got to live with our choices."

"And you've got to deliver on yours," she says.

I bend down and gather up the scattered papers. My head immediately begins thundering with frustration. When I pop back up, I shove the papers into her chest. "You better sign these. Your threats mean nothing to me. You're nothing a good publicist can't fix."

Daniela laughs, unaffected by my irritation. "When I'm done with you, Cash, I can guarantee you won't have a penny left to hire one."

"Don't come here again," I warn her. "If you have something to tell me, contact my lawyer." I turn away from her, place my hand on the doorknob, and exhale; my breath is much shakier than expected.

"She's in there, isn't she?" she asks.

I look over my shoulder to where Daniela stands. "I love her, Danni. We both need to move on, finally."

We drown in a heavy silence until she finally looks away.

I don't even know where to start. We've been through so much together; I know she's unwell. She's never adequately dealt with her grief of losing Cory because she was always too busy helping me work through mine.

But here in this hallway, she seems more wounded than I am.

"Move on?" she laughs. "How dare you even suggest such a thing?"

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked down the hallway and into the elevator without looking back.

I walk back inside to silence and quickly check on Quinn.

Thankfully, she is still sound asleep in my bed.

I stand in my living room, body shaking, heart thundering, and mind racing.

Suddenly, I find myself in the kitchen, pouring myself a whiskey and letting it burn down my throat.

____________

"Good morning," Quinn's soft voice comes from behind me.

I turn around slowly, and I feel the moment she wants to be here, realizes that she still loves me, and wants to give us another shot.

Quinn walks over to me and pushes up on her tippy toes before wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing my lips softly.

She looks stunning in the morning sun filtering through the window.

The shape of her body in a tight white t-shirt and a lacey pair of black underwear wakes my cock to attention.

Feeling her erect nipples press against my chest through the thin fabric of her t-shirt drives me fucking wild.

I grab fistfuls of her soft brown curls, kiss her, and inhale her sweet lavender scent.

"God, I want to fuck you again. It was so hard not to wake you."

"We have the rest of the week to compensate for lost time." She laughs and sucks on my bottom lip.

"The rest of the week?" I place my hand on each of her hips. "Your flight leaves this afternoon."

She nods, slow and sleepy. "I cancelled it this morning. I decided to stay in Santa Anna. If I leave, who will take care of you?" She gives me the cutest little pout and bats her long brown eyelashes at me.

I trace my thumbs in small circles over her hip bones and toward her navel, smiling. "That's the best news I've heard in a long time."

She rocks a bit more forcefully against my hips. I grab her butt and lift her onto the countertop.

"I was thinking of putting in for a transfer to ULCA."

"Why would you do that?" I ask, nipping a few quick kisses along her shoulders.

Quinn's head falls back, and the ends of her hair fall down her backside as she lets out a tiny moan. "Convenience," she says, hitching in a breath. "If we're going to try to make this work, I want to be closer to you."

I know I should tell her not to throw away Harvard and tell her the last thing I want to do is weigh her down with Daniela and deal with my messy past, but I can't bring myself to do it.

"Wait," I start to say, and hiss in a breath when I feel the gentle touch of her hand on my cock. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I've never wanted anything more," she says, grinding against me.

"I want you to be happy," I whisper against her mouth. She tugs a bit harder on my cock and smirks up at me. I hiss out another breath and smirk back at her. "And, of course, maybe get you a little bit naked."

She lets out a laugh but quickly becomes serious again. "Please, Cash...I need you."

She guides my cock inside her, and I moan at how warm and slippery she feels.

"Quinn..." I hold either side of her head, watching my cock disappear over and over again between her legs. "Fuck. This is all I ever wanted. And I won't stop until I make you scream."

I am thrusting so hard inside her, watching her come undone as she moans and digs her fingernails harder and harder into my bare skin. I suck one of her nipples into my mouth, smiling against her skin when she makes these wild little panting sounds as I suck harder and lick.

Quinn's hand slides down to her clit, and she starts touching herself. Fuck. It's the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I start whispering the dirtiest things into her ear, telling her how wild she makes me, how sexy she looks, touching herself, and how badly I want to see her come. Her entire body stiffens, and she clenches around my cock. She pants out my name and lets me know she's coming.

Her orgasm takes over her entire body, sending her into a tremble as she exhales in a satisfied release.

There is something about seeing her like this, sweaty and breathless, in my arms that leaves my brain fuzzy, trying to justify why I would ever think I need to let her go.

Quinn leans forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and propping herself up on my thighs. That slight movement, the tiniest change of angle, pushes me straight over the edge. And the second she hears my deep moan vibrate through my throat, her eyes lock with mine, hooded with intensity.

"Oh fuck." I tighten my grip on her hips. I feel hot all over, feverish and hungry. It's that familiar feeling of wildly surreal ecstasy only Quinn could bring me to.

She moans and sinks on my cock a little bit farther. "Come for me, Brooks," she whispers in my ear. "I want you to come all over my body."

"God, Mittens. You're so damn sexy." I take a deep breath, suddenly aware of how intimate we are. Only she knows how to touch and please every inch of my body. How she loves to watch me get off. I became aware of how open I am with her and how our bodies are perfectly in sync. I've never been this connected to anyone.

Every muscle in my body is tight, and when she pushes down on my cock once more, putting the slightest amount of pressure on the tip, I lose control.

Her mouth is too tempting, lips wet and parted, and I lean in, tasting her as I move wild and hard inside her.

I'm too close, and it's so fast, but I don't think either of us cares. A spark flashes hot down my spine, and I feel myself get harder, my jaw getting tighter. She gasps and pushes up onto me, and with a final groan, I pull out, hand moving over my length in a blur of orgasm.

I open my eyes to the sight of Quinn looking down at my cum on her skin. She grins up at me and runs a finger through it and around her nipple. Fuck that is unbelievably sexy. I'm so in love with her, it's crazy.

I lean forward and press my mouth against hers. My heart is racing so fast I have to work to breathe, and I fight my arms and legs not to collapse. I nip another tiny kiss on the side of her mouth.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks. "We probably shouldn't have been so intense with your concussion."

I lift my head long enough to look at her. "It was worth it, but my body feels weak as fuck." I place another soft kiss on her lips.

"You should go lie down." Quinn yawns, reaching for her discarded t-shirt to wipe the mess from her skin. "I'm going to take a quick shower and then run out and grab some muffins and coffee." She beams at me. "Make sure you get some rest. Take a quick nap, and I'll be back before you know it."

I nod, kissing Quinn's jaw and then her cheek, feeling the flush beneath her skin against my lips.

"Love you," she says and hops off the countertop.

"Love you too," I say, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. I'm so tired and weak, and my head starts to throb. I watch her walk into the bathroom and wish I didn't feel that familiar burden of guilt weighing me down.

_______

"Open up, Brooks. I know she's in there!"

A fist pounding on the door wakes me up, and I sit on the couch, disoriented.

"Open the goddamn door!"

That stern, rough voice is way too familiar. I stare at the door, thinking this must be a bad dream. Then I hear his voice shout again. "Open up! I know she's in there!"

I get off the sofa and open the door to see Hilton Ashby.

His chest heaves up and down, and his jaw's tight. His salt and pepper hair is perfectly styled, but his beard is overgrown. He's not dressed in his usual three-piece suit.

Seeing him in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt is weird.

And even though we're practically the same height, I feel like he's grown an entire foot as he stares at me with fire in his eyes.

I swallow hard at the angry frown plastered on his face.

"What are you doing here, Hilton?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"You know exactly what the fuck I'm doing here," he growls and pushes past me, walking right into my living room. He starts pacing around, looking all over the condo. "Where is she?" he shouts.

"Hilton, I can explain—"

"I don't give a shit. Where is she?"

"She's not here," I tell him. "I don't know when she will be back."

"You listen here, Brooks." His authoritative tone catches me off guard. He stalks toward me and shoves his finger in my face. "I know exactly what you are all about, and I don't want you anywhere near my daughter."

I take a deep breath, trying to restrain myself from punching him in the face.

He turned away from me and called out into the condo for her. "Quinn!"

"Hilton, she's not here," I fire at his backside.

Slowly, he turns around, his hands clenched in fists, his face red with rage.

He stares at me, nostrils flaring, before he finally speaks.

"Good. Because I don't want her knowing I was here," he says. "Quinn has been through a lot of disappointment in her life. And as her father, it is my job to protect her. That's my little girl whose heart you're holding. And she's worth more than some asshole jock that's been a thorn in my side since the day I became president. She needs a real man who can give her the life she deserves."

There's nothing Hilton could say that I didn't already know. But I remain silent and wait.

"I've lived your life, Brooks. I lived through the glory of pro hockey and the ups and downs of that lifestyle, and hell, I've experienced loss just like you. I fought through a wife who struggled with addiction. I've watched the woman I loved drink her entire life away. I was the one holding her hand through rehab and hiding her addiction and problem from the world. I've cried many tears over my wife and her addiction, so I know exactly what loving someone like that entails, and I sure as hell don't want that for my daughter."

He stops and looks over at me. All I can see is Quinn's sweet and innocent face when Hilton talks about his wife. It feels like my chest might explode.

"I saw first-hand the way Quin's mother's addiction affected her, and I'll be damned if I let that lifestyle affect her again. She has a real chance at becoming something, Brooks. And all you are doing is holding her back. She doesn't belong here in Santa Anna as some hockey housewife. I raised my two little girls to become headstrong, independent women so they would never end up like their mother."

Guilt-crushing anxiety trembles through my body. I'm a complete mess and everything Quinn needs to stay away from. How could I be so selfish?

"We both know that you are a boozing, hot-headed jock who can't keep his dick in his pants. You will hurt her, whether you think you will or not. A leopard never changes its spots. And we both know you're still boozing and partying with the best of them. You think you're invincible, but you're not. And that type of behaviour is dangerous and selfish. Quinn is driven and ambitious and has a good head on her shoulders. She's come a long way and doesn't need to be dragged down by your problems."

My fucking heart aches. I can barely breathe.

"I know every sordid and terrible detail about your past, and you're the last piece of shit I want near my daughter. Tell me, how do you think this will end, Brooks? You think she will follow you around the country, living off the coattails of your career like some trophy wife, and everything will be okay?"

"No. I don't."

God, that hurts.

I want her to be independent.

I want her to follow her dreams.

I want her life to be filled with happiness, but I also want it to be filled with me.

How can I give her a good life when mine is so chaotic and messy?

I want to be the type of man she deserves, but I'm not even close to being that man. If I hold her back from her potential and bright future, I'll be riddled with guilt and pain for the rest of my life.

I never want her to resent me.

"Really, Brooks?" Hilton snaps me out of my thoughts. "Because the Cash Brooks I've grown to hate is a selfish jock who only thinks of himself."

"You're right. I don't deserve her love or forgiveness. But she needs me just as much as I need her. And the truth is, Quinn is as lost and broken as I am. Maybe for different reasons, but we love each other. I'm not the guy you think I am. I'm just not into hooking up with random women anymore."

"What are you saying, Brooks?"

"I mean, just that deep down, this whole playboy boozing hot-head reputation, it's not me anymore. I love Quinn."

"And you expect me to believe that? Do you think I don't know you're showing up drunk to practice? Do you think I'm some idiot? And for fuck sake, Brooks, you think I don't know about your wife?"

"I know you know about Daniela, and you also know it's not real Hilton. And I finally told Quinn everything. She knows all about it—"

"Enough, Cash." He holds up his hand to stop me.

"I'm going to make this simple. I have a one-way ticket to Boston. I don't care how you get Quinn on that flight, but if she's not back in Boston by tonight, she can kiss her trust fund goodbye. If she thinks she can pull the wool over my eyes and give up everything she has worked so hard for a quick thrill with California's star hockey player, she can fend for herself and learn to live with her reckless choices."

He stops, runs a hand over his face, and then looks at me.

"Is that what you want for her? Because I can't stand by and watch my daughter think she can throw her life away and leave an Ivy League school to relocate to some shit college to be closer to you—the biggest mistake she will ever make. If you love her, you will stay the fuck away from my daughter and get her on this flight. She deserves better, Brooks."

Hilton's right. Leaving me would be the best thing she ever did. I'm a shitty alcoholic with a bad temper and a messy past.

Even if I gave up hockey for Quinn or asked for a trade and followed her back to Boston, I will always be that alcoholic loser who killed his brother.

I don't deserve her. I would only drag her down.

I could hold her back once, and I will never hold her back again.

I love her too much to let her give up everything she has worked so hard for me.

How can I be what she deserves if I haven't severed myself from Daniela yet? I can't cut Daniela out of my life forever, can I?

But how can I expect Quinn to be with me if I don't?

"I know she deserves better," I manage to say.

"Don't you dare tell her I was here?" Hilton shoves the ticket into my hand. "Now, do the right thing, Brooks."

"Goodbye, Hilton." I open my front door and wait for him to walk through it.

"Rest up, Brooks," he says with a tight-lipped smile. "You wouldn't want a career-ending injury before the trade deadline."

I slam the door behind him. His empty threat means nothing to me. The last thing I care about is my career. Letting Quinn ruin her dream to be with me is too fresh on my conscience.

I can't let her stay. I need to set her free.