Chapter 303. Where’s My Kiss?

Chapter 303: 303. Where’s My Kiss?

Maisie

"You’re not going to invite me in?"

We’d made two more stops after Quinlan filled me up with so much food, I felt as heavy as a sack of potatoes. Maybe I wasn’t depressed. Maybe I had just been hungry.

The small bed was now packed with shopping bags of clothes and shoes I had been too proud to admit I needed, considering Jericho had literally burned my entire closet back at the estate, and I’d been living out of the couple of sweats Mercer grabbed when he abducted me from Utah.

It was nice, twisting around in front of a mirror while Quinlan shook his head or nodded in approval. It took my mind off things for a couple of hours.

"Maisie, cherie, come look at this," Quinlan had said, stepping out of the lingerie section, holding up a set of black leather straps, matte-black O-rings, and tiny metallic buckles.

I stared at it, my eyebrows furrowing. It looked familiar, teasing my memory of our night at Quinlan’s club, though I couldn’t place where I’d seen that.

"What is that?" I asked, genuinely baffled.

Quinlan’s face lit up like a little kid on Christmas morning. Excitement flashed in his bright blue eyes.

"It’s brilliant!" he said, holding it up and stepping closer to demonstrate. He unlooped a strap and started pointing directly at my body with zero shame. "So this part goes around your ribs, right? Then these two straps cross over your shoulders, this ring sits right between your breasts, and then these lower loops clip down here around your--"

Off to the side, two women who had been browsing the rack had turned around, staring at us with mouths agape. One of them had their phones out, taking a picture of us.

"Are you insane?!" I whisper-shouted, my face burning so hot I felt like I was going to combust on the spot.

I lunged forward, snatched the leather contraption right out of his hands, and stuffed it back where it belonged, glaring daggers at him while he just stood there looking ridiculously proud of himself.

"It’s structural!" he sulked. "Supports the posture. Plus, leather looks incredible on you." He had pulled out a skirt that would barely cover my ass. "Now go try on this skirt."

It was almost jarring. This morning I wasn’t sure I’d walk out of the trial alive. And a few hours later, I was telling Quinlan I wasn’t going to let him dress me like a porn doll.

He had a thing for short skirts. We’d gotten way too many short skirts and thigh high socks. And thongs. Nothing practical.

I knew he thought I kept going for the baggy sweats to cover up my scars, and to negate that, he kept adding scandalous things to the tab, even the cashier blushed so hard she messed up the card reader twice.

If it was left to Quinlan, I wouldn’t be wearing any clothes.

He eventually let me grab a few jeans and sweats, on the condition that he picked them himself, too. I was skeptical, but the man knew how to dress me better than I could dress myself. Though, it was a far cry from what Soren would have gone for, the latter preferring fancy, dinner dresses over casual clothes. Jericho didn’t really care what I wore, so long as I was warm comfortable. And Mercer would probably have bought me a nun’s or a priestess’s overalls because he didn’t like anyone seeing even an inch of my naked skin.

I shoved aside the thought of Mercer as I held the door halfway closed. "Nope. Thanks for... um... bringing me. And the food. I..." A weird shyness crept up my neck. "I had a really good time."

He’d fed me and bought me things. Lycan brain chemistry demanded he deserved something in return. A kiss or more.

I was tempted, if I was being honest, but I wasn’t that easy.

R-iii-iiight?

He rocked forward, leaning one hand on the doorframe right above my head and the frame barely contained his body as he peered into the bedroom over my head.

"You’re sure you don’t wanna come home, May? If privacy is what you need, I’m sure we could work something out."

Work something out.

Lycans didn’t understand the concept of personal space, so I highly doubted he even understood why I would want some, not to even speak of letting me have it.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling self-conscious under his bright blue eyes. "This... this is fine. I need this."

Quinlan’s eyes narrowed. He obviously hated the distance, but he wasn’t going to fight me on it tonight.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a brand-new, sleek black phone everyone was going crazy over lately.

He put it in my hand. "Keep this on you. Always."

I turned it over in my grip and looked up at him. "It’s bugged, isn’t it?"

Quinlan raised a brow, and with all seriousness, asked, "Is there a reason it shouldn’t be bugged? Planning on having conversations you don’t want us hearing?"

I stared at him. I really needed to stop hoping they could be anything close to normal at this point.

I shook my head, tensing up when he ran his healed knuckles down my cheek. "Your company has been most pleasant. As always." He flicked his thumb playfully under my ear. "Next time, it’ll be a real date."

My fingers twitched, wanting to reach up and brush the hair out of his eyes. "You’re assuming there’s going to be a next time."

He smiled. It was a conspiratorial one. "Maybe."

Before I could step away, his fingers hooked into the waistband of the jeans he’d bought me. My heart leaped as he pulled me forward until my chest bumped against his.

"Where’s my kiss?" he asked softly.

My face instantly went hot. "I’m not--"

He ducked his head and his mouth brushed the corner of mine. "Here?"

My heart was pounding so hard in anticipation, he could definitely hear it. I shook my head, trying to play it cool, but my breath hitched.

His hand enfolded my lower jaw, both rough and warm. I inhaled as he drew closer, my eyes falling shut. The scent of spice and hot skin and leather was strong. Something deeper and primal tugged at my instincts, fraying the edges of my resolve.

His fingers slid into the hair at the back of my neck. I felt a sudden spike of disappointment when he didn’t actually kiss my lips.

And then, adrenaline spiked again when he pressed his mouth against the side of my neck. "Here?" he murmured.

A breathless, useless noise slipped out of me. "Hmm..."

But he shifted his hands again, angling my head a little higher, and I shivered when his lips found the soft spot behind my ear. "Here, May?"

My hand was shaking as I pressed it against him. I shook my head again, but I wasn’t pushing him away.

I felt a smile curve his sensual mouth as he ducked even lower, his nose trailing the arch of my neck down my collarbone, and beneath the collar of my shirt, until his fangs brushed the soft swell of breast over my raging heart. "Oui?"

I gasped as his day old stubble scratched over my nipple straining through my bra. "Yes," I moaned.

His mouth was gentle, but his hand in my hair was firm with restrained need.

Warmth took the place of his lips when he pulled away, but he remained hunched over me for a moment, his breath mirroring mine. Slow and shaky.

In the sound of rustling silk, Quinlan finally stepped back. His heated glance met mine and stared pointedly at where I had gripped him around his waist without realising it.

My hands withdrew reluctantly, embarrassment spreading up my neck, chasing away the heat.

"’Night, Maisie," he drawled like the cat who got the milk.

Before he could slip into the hallway beyond my hand darted out, catching on the edge of his sleeve. "Wait."

What was I doing?

Quinlan looked back, arching a brow at me.

"I..." I bit my bottom lip. "Your shirt. Please give it to me."

Quinlan paused. Confused. "Pardon?"

His eyes coasted over my head, to the room inside. His old quarterback shirt was nearly folded by my pillow.

My cheeks burned red as understanding washed over him. It wasn’t just his scent on the silk. Mercer’s was entwined with it. It was as good as I could get of both of their scents at once. And besides, the scent on his shirt was old and faded, and it wouldn’t do it for my Lycan anymore.

Quinlan grinned and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head.

His torso was completely bare underneath. I snapped my eyes straight back up to his face, but not before he caught me salivating over the artful ridges of his abs.

He held out the shirt, his blue eyes full of mischief.

"Need anything else, May?" he teased, his voice low. "My pants? My boxers, maybe? I promise you, they smell even better--"

I snatched the shirt out of his hand and slammed the door in his face.