10. CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

Quinlan

“I shouldn’t be grabbing coffee with strangers.” My last attempt to save face sounds weak. It is weak.

I want to have coffee with Rome.

Fuck.

“Your first name is Quinlan.” His bass voice slams into my chest. A fist curling around my heart, squeezing it. “You blush when I get too close. My busted knuckles make you uncomfortable. Being around me scares you. Yet here you are, blushing. Wanting me to hurt you in ways no one has before. Ways I can assure you’ll get off on. That’ll make your pussy wet and nipples hard. You won’t admit to it, but you will, and I’ll be there for all of it. For when your cunt clenches around me. For when you soak my hand and cock.”

He catches my gasp by placing a thumb to my lips. Smirks at my obvious surprise and the lust. So much of it.

I’ve been obvious. Given too much.

And there’s no taking it back.

I’m going to die. That’s it. I’m just going to take my last breath and die right here, at his feet.

“I’m Rome.” His finger on my mouth presses harder. Shushing me. In a way, to have him ignore my body reaction is worse. More humiliating. Hotter, too. “I’ve been told I’m a good cook. I was born and raised in Chicago. Never left. And I’d really like to have coffee right now. With you.”

I blink, my refusal drowning beneath his attention. Beneath his dominance.

“Here. I solved your problem.” He releases my lips, sucking on his thumb. I glare at him doing that, but he simply crosses his arms over his chest like nothing’s happened. “We’re not strangers anymore.”

No. You are a stranger. A terrifying one. One that makes me so, so curious.

“Okay. We aren’t strangers.”

“Good girl.” Rome pauses. Lets the praise sink in. And boy, does it ever. “After you.”

I’m a deer in the headlights. Consumed by his gaze. It’s the darkest I’ve ever seen. It messes with my head.

Leaves me no other option other than head toward Maeve’s.

Rome places a warm, possessive hand on the small of my back. We start walking, and after a few tense seconds, I realize that I’m not guiding him toward the café.

He’s the one doing the guiding.

Or maybe he’s just in tune with me. Listening to my body language. Has to be it. Has to be why he can tell where to turn.

“We’re here,” he announces as we stop before the café.

Did I tell him the name of the place? I must have.

Chin up. A firm nod. “We are.”

I’m done looking timid or confused. I’m not this person in real life. Besides, Rex is inside the café. One scream is all it’ll take, if Rome decides to hurt me or gets out of line.

Rex. Right. He’ll never approve of me hanging out with a random, hot guy. What was I thinking, bringing Rome here?

One guy tried to flirt at Maeve’s a couple of years ago. He made things worse by joking about how overprotective Rex is and how he’s hovering. Said I’m a grown woman and I can do what I want, and that includes dating him.

“Get the fuck out,” Rex had growled at him. “No one comes between me and Quinlan. She’ll never get rid of me… For some asshole like you. Beat it.”

That was an odd word choice, I remember that. His anger was familiar. The rude stranger left me alone, and honestly, I didn’t think anything of it. Back then, I was kind of relieved. I had work to do and the other man wasn’t my type anyway.

Rex will undoubtedly do the same today.

I’ll hate my half-brother if he scares Rome off after he’s being such a gentleman, holding the door for me, ushering me inside. I’m a little giddy. Well, a lot. So much so that I forget about Rex. I even don’t care as much about Rome knowing where Maeve’s is.

With his hand on my back again, I feel less like a lamb being led to the slaughter. I’m ushered in by the dark knight.

“Woah, there.” Wayne prevents a near-collision by sidestepping me, a smile on his face. “Oh, Quinlan, hey there. Cutting your run short to come hang with us? Hell froze over and no one bothered telling me?”

I giggle.

A low, aggravated sound that reminds me of growling comes from my right.

Rome.

He’s jealous. Holy fuck, he’s jealous.

The butterflies in my stomach are hard to ignore. To be claimed by the storm is more than thrilling. I’ve never had that before, and it’s addictive. Stupid and oh-so addictive.

And a red flag. A hot red flag.

“Oh.” Wayne grimaces as he looks behind me. It’s rude, for Rome to threaten Wayne who’s always been so kind to me. “You brought a friend.”

I elbow Rome’s side while looking around for Rex. He’s nowhere to be found, even though the evening crowd is thinning out.

“Hi, Quinlan’s friend. I’m Wayne.” Wayne gives kindness another shot. “She and I are basically family.”

This time, the low sound of disapproval Rome makes sends a chill up my spine too.

“Okay, then.” Wayne plasters his most customer-friendly smile on and pats my shoulder. He raises his eyebrows a tiny bit, relaying a secret message. If the scary man behind me is bothering me, I’m not alone. “Have a seat. Rex took a call in the kitchen. He’ll be right out. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.”

Yeah, he’ll be pleased, all right. Pleased to punch Rome in the throat for touching me.

“Thanks.” My lips are sealed as I smile back at him.

He moves to serve one of the last customers as Rome, gentle yet determined, leads me to an empty table. In the center of the café.

“Thank you,” I say when he pulls out a chair for me.

Nervous. That’s how I should feel, over the moment Rex will come out here.

The butterflies, though. They won’t let me go. Won’t stop me from staring at Rome while he lowers himself to the seat at my side.

He’s sitting in the cheap chair in Maeve’s, but nothing about Rome seems cheap. He’s regal. Filling the old, worn-out chair with his presence.

The warm lights bathe us in a soft orange glow. Not us, not really. Rome isn’t soft. He’s as hardened as he’s been for the last fifteen minutes, except for that one second he looked at my tattoo.

“Do you take your coffee black? No cream, no sugar?”

He snaps me out of my lust haze. My heart slows and I’m cold all over, hugging my middle. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” Rome raises two fingers, calling Wayne over.

This dread, this skepticism…I hate them.

I push them aside. He sees me, and it’s fucking nice. I won’t shame myself for it.

“I can go to the bar and order our drinks. What can I get you?”

“You’re not going anywhere.” He motions for Wayne again. “I’ll order. I’m paying. You’re staying here right where I can see you. Right where I can listen to you talk.”

I could’ve run a hundred miles and not be as red in the face as I am now. “I thought you wanted coffee.”

Dark blue eyes flit to mine. “I said I wanted you here too, didn’t I?”

The world closes in around me. He’s too much. The two other men I’ve bumped into were just as consuming.

Just as invasive.

The last of my self-preservation comes to my rescue. “Why me?”

“I’ll be honest, Quinlan.”

“Please do?”

“I could sit here and tell you half-truths. Say I’m interested because you’re a beautiful woman.” His confidence is glaring. He’s being blunt, and he doesn’t give a fuck. “Because you were warm and sweet in my arms. Because I like the way your name tastes on my tongue.”

His tongue. He runs it over the top row of his teeth, as if he’s making a point. Seducing me further into his depths.

It’s working. My thighs clench under the table. I’m biting the inside of my cheek to silence my heaving breaths.

“It wouldn’t be the whole truth,” he clips. “I want you to tell me everything about you because I. Fucking. Want. To. That’s it. And you’re going to give it to me. Also because I fucking want to.”

“Quinlan, your regula—” Wayne starts.

“Coffee. Two. Black.” Rome talks over him while his attention remains on me. “Thank you, Wayne.”

In my periphery, I can tell Wayne scurries away. This isn’t like him, to be so jittery. Then again, it’s not often that you have a hurricane for a customer.

“Quinlan.” Rome’s hand reaches to my neck. Holds on to the side. Squeezes.

“You confuse me,” I whisper low enough for only Rome to hear.

His hand is a collar, gripping me possessively. His eyes are hot. “Tell me something about you. Something that’ll please me.”

He tips my head up. With his other hand, he drags my chair closer. The sound of it dragging on the floor is louder than the song in the background. Chandler Leighton’s “MONSTER.” It’s too hard to listen to the song when I’m being swallowed up by Rome.

My breath hitches. Rex’s phone call isn’t over, that’s for sure. Otherwise, he would’ve been here. Would’ve rescued me. Probably would’ve grounded me for life. Even though he can’t do that, he would’ve found a way.

Except… Do I want to be saved?

“Where should I start?”

He’s so close. Blue eyes are all I see. There’s an underlying anger in them. And lust. “Favorite food?”

A laugh almost bursts from me. He isn’t asking what I do for a living. What my goddamn last name is. He’s asking about—

“Food?”

“Yes.” His grip on my neck becomes painful. Possessive, like he had his hand on my back. Like he owns me. “Tell me.”

“Lasagna.”

“Lasagna,” he repeats. Rome’s voice is rough. More mouthwatering than any meal I’ve ever had. “Why’s that?”

He reads me like an open fucking book.

He’s forced me to remember, and that hurts. Tears prickle in the corners of my eyes, threatening to leak out. The why is a secret. A painful one.

Rome squeezes me tighter. He’s safe. He won’t let anything happen to me, including my memories.

This is so fucked up.

“It’s the first hot, homemade meal I remember making.” I don’t add after what happened .

My eyes flicker to the side. No Rex. Good. I don’t want him to feel bad about what I’m going to say to Rome. He could never help me cook. Burns everything, he said. He brought groceries over. Told me it’d be better if I learned it from the Food Network on TV.

I understood back then. I do to this day.

“Go on.” Rome forces my gaze back to him, one harsh tug on my neck is all it takes. “When was that?”

“When I was seven. Six and a half?”

There were more meals I made. Cereal, for example. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Then Rex said I had to try harder for myself and my parents. So I did.

“My parents weren’t big on eating. Or cooking.” Fuck the tears. I blink them back. Pretend my tattoo doesn’t sear my skin. “I burned it, the first time. When I got it right, it was like I won something. A war against the oven. How silly is that?”

His teeth gnash together. He hauls me closer to him. His minty breath fans on my skin, and his eyebrows lower on his forehead. He’s furious. His anger is barely contained beneath his cold, impenetrable veneer.

“Six and a half.” It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking about my age. “You’re the one who cooked for your family? All this time?”

“I still cook for them. Sometimes.” When they let me come over. “Rest of the time, I order in for them.”

“Unacceptable.”

One word, and I’m trembling. Rome says this like a promise.

“What’s unacceptable is you touching my sister.”

At Rex’s warning, a grin slashes across Rome’s face, reminding me he’s a predator. I’m wet between my thighs. Terrified of what that grin means and yet wanting it all the same.

Rome pulls back by an increment, twisting to look up at Rex without releasing me.

If anything, he holds me tighter.

“Half-sister,” Rome corrects Rex.

“Let. Her. Go.” Rex’s hand is on Rome’s shoulder.

“I don’t think I will.” In a swift, graceful movement, Rome wraps an arm around me. Yanks me into his lap and locks me to his chest. “She’s comfortable here. With me.”

Everything happens so fast that I gasp. His thick cock pokes my ass when I land on him and Rex is there, standing over us. He’s furious.

I’m helpless.

As if Rome has some sort of control over me, I stay put. Don’t question why he’s doing this or why he’s being this crude.

It’s obvious. Rex is being demanding and angry. Rome has been possessive from the second he saw me. He’s violent, that’s another thing about him.

What isn’t as clear is why I’m comforted by it. My hands find his strong forearm. Finally. His skin is smooth. Blood pumps beneath his accentuated veins.

“Quinlan.”

I can’t bring myself to look at Rex. Rome’s busted knuckles are safer than Rex’s wrath. They are.

I’m choosing the side of a total stranger.

I’m choosing my freedom.

Or is it another prison?

“Let her go,” Rex repeats when I don’t obey him. I hear the effort in Rex’s voice. He’s trying to drag Rome’s chair back. Force Rome out of it.

Emphasis on trying.

Rome’s feet are planted to the floor. His muscles strain. He and I don’t budge an inch.

“You’re harassing my sister. You need to leave.”

“Harassing?” Rome barks a laugh. A clipped, mocking one. His hand splays on my stomach, pulling me—no, thrusting me—against his cock. Oh no, his lips brush my cheek. This is what dying of humiliation is like, isn’t it? “Quinlan’s a big girl. She’s here with me of her own free will. We’re having fun, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

Rex’s rage is everywhere. It’s damn near as intense as Rome’s fingers as they dig into my stomach. “Quinlan. Get the fuck up.”

No more hiding. Rome was right, I am a big girl. Without giving it another thought, I whip my head up. Furrow my brow as I level him with the most serious glare I can muster.

Which is a terrible hardship. All these emotions are making a mess out of me.

On the one hand, I’m turned on by Rome and his scruff grazing my cheek.

On the other hand, Rex’s controlling behavior is pissing me off.

My brother has been great all these years. And overbearing. If I don’t do exactly as he said, he throws a fit. Screams at me. Belittles me. He said it’s what big brothers are for. That it was for my own good.

I’ve let it go on for as long as I have to spare his feelings. I’ve been okay with his temper. With him throwing a tantrum when I didn’t tell him where I’ll be and when.

He’s given me some rope over the last couple of years. Although he didn’t let me have it without a fight.

This has to end. He can’t treat people like this, including me.

Rome is scary and demanding. I’ve gotten lost in him more than once during our short time together. Yet he’s far from being the bad guy. A truly bad guy wouldn’t have wanted to sit here, of all places. Where my half-brother works. Where I could be saved.

He was being a gentleman.

So what if Rome is intense? If he’s danger and secrecy wrapped into one person?

I’m twenty-three. I’m entitled to fuck up. To cry over a guy. To let him touch me.

“It’s fine, Rex. I’m fine. I—” I get up from Rome’s lap.

More like, I forcefully pry his hand from my stomach and push myself up right before Rome locks my wrist in his grip. At least I’m standing on my own two feet.

“You.” I spin to Rome, angling my face up since he’s already standing. “You’re nice. But make no mistake, you don’t own me.” Quickly, I meet Rex’s glare. “Neither do you.”

Had Rex not been so short-tempered, I might’ve been more lenient with him. More graceful. Except he has been quick to react, and I’ve had it. I might even ghost him for a week just to get my point across. Show him how mad I am.

“Quinlan.” A vein throbs in Rex’s forehead, his voice hushed. He’s avoiding a scene. Either that, or he can tell I’m on the edge. “Please. Let’s go home. Just the two of us. We’ll discuss this at your place.”

“No.”

Rome’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I shrug him off and storm outside where the embarrassment wouldn’t sear my skin as badly.

I need air. I need to be alone.

And I’m not. Rome’s presence at my back is electrifying.

“I’m not sorry.” He catches my wrist once we’re out in the street. “But I can take you home. You’re upset because of me. It’s the least I can do.”

Please do . “No.”

“Yes, I would.” He lowers his head, dark blue eyes posing a threat. A million of them.

My heart hammers in my chest. My nipples are pulled tight. Rome’s nearness, after the week I had, is intoxicating.

His hand cups my cheek. The other one’s on my hips, yanking me toward him.

“No.”

“Maybe I haven’t made myself clear.” Rome is right there, in my face. “I will walk you home. And you’ll let me. Just like you’ll let me kiss you.”

His mouth crashes into mine. His lips are hot. His kiss is angry.

He’s sweeping me in his whirlwind. Kissing me where Rex can see. Where the world can see.

His aggressive assault on my lips is as powerful as everything else about him is. His teeth are as violent as the energy vibrating from him. He sinks them into my bottom lip. Groaning. Soothing my sore flesh with his tongue. Gripping my cheek harder.

Fuck. He sucks the air out of my lungs. Loops an arm around me and yanks me to his front. Pressing his hardness to my belly.

My hands fly up to his arms, holding on to him for dear fucking life. I’m dizzy with how much I want him. After the last few days, I’ve been needing this .

“Quinlan,” he grunts. His lips trail lazily along my jaw. “You’ll let me walk you. Are we clear?”

“I’m willing to give you my number. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”

“What is that?” My predator stares at me. One of his eyebrows is cocked. “Talking back?”

My first instinct is to say no . That I consent to anything and everything he wants to do to me. That I’m eager to hand over to him the thing I haven’t wanted to give anyone else. My virginity.

But I didn’t just make a scene and force Rex to stay where he is to backtrack a minute later.

“This…” I lift one hand, wave it in his face. My neck heats before I let the words tumble out. “Your possessiveness. It’s hot. We just met, and you’re not fucking around. I like it. But I’m not a doll. You can’t boss me around.” I gulp. “A lot.”

Some of Rome’s anger simmers. The creases on his forehead smooth over.

Less fire, more ice.

“No more running today.” He presses a kiss to my nose. I almost faint. “Straight home from here, sweetheart. It’s getting late.”

A second later, he’s gone. Rome’s wide shoulders and his seriously cute butt are all I see as he takes off.