18

MY BEST FRIEND

JACK

Quinn blends so seamlessly and fits so comfortably into our lives and home regardless of the scenario and it’s fucking with my resolve so much more quickly than I anticipated. She’s wearing me down, completely unaware, and I just pushed a boundary with her I shouldn’t have pushed.

I need to fix this.

I promised myself I would let her make the first move then barrelled headfirst into the opposite direction of that promise.

I stand across from her while she pours us each a cup of coffee. I am a respectful distance away when I lean against the kitchen island and face her back.

She turns to hand me my drink and plasters a forced, awkward smile on her face.

I can’t say I like that at all.

“I’m sorry,” I say—no use beating around the bush or trying to downplay the tension between us. We need to talk about this now before things get even more out of hand.

Her face twists like she doesn’t understand. “Sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have been so physically forward with you. I made you uncomfortable. It won’t happen again.” I hope she is not so uncomfortable she’s unwilling to stick around. I would kick my own ass if I lost one of the best things to ever happen to Sienna just because I’m a douche and can’t keep my hands to myself.

She takes a sip of her coffee and sits it on the counter next to her, then closes her eyes like all of this is just too much to form words about. Maybe she’s more upset than I thought.

“Quinn, I promise?—”

I’m willing to get on my knees and beg her forgiveness, but she doesn’t let me finish. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s fine. I promise.” She’s refusing to look at me and while I know first hand she doesn’t allow anyone to disrespect her, she needs this job and there is a good possibility she’d overlook my shortcomings in order to keep it.

My mug clinks against the stone countertop and I take a step toward her without thinking, then realize I’m doing it again. Boxing her in. She’s like a fucking magnet and I need to get a grip.

Why does it feel so right to be drawn to her?

I force myself to take a step back. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because of me.”

She takes in a long breath like she’s steeling her nerves, then eats up the space between us as if she needs to do so in order to make her point. “Jack,” she says my name like it’s her favorite word. “I am not uncomfortable. I just don’t have a toothbrush here.”

The look I give her is one of confusion, because what does that have to do with—oh.

Oh .

I think hard about what my next words should be, and decide that her confession is close enough to her making the first move to me. Or the second. Or whichever fucking one this would be now.

I reach for her hand and she places it in mine, probably not expecting me to pull her into me, but that’s what I do.

I reverse our positions until her back is against the counter. She looks up at me, chest heaving. I like that I have this effect on her.

I don’t hesitate before I lift her and sit her on the countertop, and she doesn’t hesitate to separate her thighs to make space for me between them.

Her neck is level with my face now, just like I hoped it would be.

“That’s okay,” I finally say, allowing my lips to skim along her skin from her collarbone and up the side of her neck, stopping at the shell of her ear. “I want your mouth, but I don’t need it.” I place a kiss there to solidify my confession. “I’m happy to kiss you anywhere .”

She sucks in a shaky breath, but when I run my hand up the length of her back and thread my fingers through her hair, she relaxes in my arms.

I take my time, kissing along the exposed part of her shoulder and back up her neck again.

What am I doing?

I’ve completely lost my mind.

But I don’t fucking care.

Who needs a mind?

Not me, that’s for sure.

There are about a million ways this could go wrong, but I can’t seem to think of even one of them with her body pressed against mine and the feel of her skin against my mouth.

“The things I want to do to you.” I gently bite down on her earlobe, dragging my teeth over it as I pull away and whisper in her ear. “ Unspeakable things.”

“So do them.” Her words come out breathy.

If she only fucking knew. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

She’s felt so unreachable, so far away for so long—but somehow still a part of me, flowing through my fucking veins.

It is unreal that I have my hands on her now.

Even with the distance I’ve kept between us, nothing has ever felt more intense or more real than what I feel for her.

I’d let her tear me apart if it meant understanding the grip she has on me—like there’s something feral whispering deep inside my bones that only she can bring to the surface.

She reclines on her palms, her head tilted back. I reach out and place my hand between her shoulder blades, pushing gently until her weight shifts forward and she’s flush with my chest, then take both her wrists in one of my hands and grip them tightly.

She scoots herself closer to the edge of the counter, wrapping her legs around mine and pulling our centers flush as she grinds her core against my persistent erection.

“You like that?” I ask, thanking every god I can think of that she seems to lean into my dominant nature instead of shying away from it, just like I hoped she would.

She nods.

Grinds harder.

Then realizes what she’s doing and I absolutely do not mind , but she stills her movements.

“What are we doing, Jack?” she finally asks, a little breathless and a lot needy.

I pepper kisses along her jawline. “I’m kissing you.” I don’t stop. “Last night, you said we were friends. I’m being friendly.”

“Oh.” She seems a little disappointed in my answer. “Do you kiss all your friends?”

I smile against the base of her throat before placing a wet, open-mouthed kiss there and squeezing her wrists just a little tighter to get my point across. “No. Just my best friend.”

“Oh,” she says again.

I’m coming on too strong. I need to calm the fuck down. I pull back from her, unthread my fingers from her hair, and move my hand to cup her jaw. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you again. I just?—”

She brings a hand up to cover her mouth and leans back from me. It’s almost comical. “I’m not overwhelmed. I was just hoping that when—if—this happened, I would be an active participant and not just sitting here like a knot on a log.”

I smile because she’s adorable and most definitely was not just sitting there, but I also understand what she’s saying, so I put a few more inches in between us and help her hop down to her feet again.

I turn away from her and readjust myself in my pants. I’m sure she knows what I’m doing, but she doesn’t necessarily need or want an up-close view of Jack’s erection adjustment just because she was fine with me kissing her.

I turn to face her again and clear my throat. “We can reconvene at a later date. Let me feed you.”

Or, I could run out to the store again real quick. Grab a toothbrush. Lube. Several Condoms. Come back and fuck you on every surface of my home. Do that thing I’ve been wanting to do with my knife.

I plate our food that’s now closer to cold than it is warm, so I heat each plate for a few seconds in the microwave before jerking my head in the direction of the breakfast nook next to the bay window.

I’m not certain I can shift back to normal after that, but I’m willing to try and it ends up being easier than I anticipated.

We fall into a conversation about a History of Psychology assignment she’s working on this week. Thankfully nothing about our meal together feels strained or tinged with the fact that she just basically dry-humped me while I restrained her and made out with her neck in the middle of the kitchen.

That’s okay.

I’ll remind her soon enough.

An hour passes and our plates sit empty in front of us, the only thing pulling us from the bubble we’ve created around ourselves is Sienna’s high-pitched shriek reverberating down the stairs.

“I’ll grab her.” I stand at the same time my phone buzzes from across the kitchen.

I snatch it from the island as I make my way to the stairs, but stand frozen at the bottom with my hand on the rail when I see the text that’s just come through.

The police have made another arrest.

While I should feel relieved by this small piece of news, it's the name attached to the article that triggers a downward spiral of worry.

Adrian .

I can't help but think about the danger Quinn may have been in just a few days ago before I showed up, and the danger she could still be facing now from other students who were potentially involved.

There’s not a chance in fucking hell I’ll let her out of my sight now. Not until I know for certain she’s safe from the same people who killed her dad.

My phone vibrates again, and the text that’s come through from an unknown number is the juiciest cherry on top of this shit sundae.

It’s a screen grab from the camera system inside my house a little over an hour ago; a still of Quinn’s body wrapped around mine, me sucking at her pulse point.