Sacrifice
Page 121
Then Adam was kissing him back, drawing at Nick’s tongue with his own. He had a hand behind Nick’s neck, stroking the hair there, and Nick wished he could freeze this exact moment.
Oh, and the next moment, when Adam bit at Nick’s lip.
And the moment after that, when Nick stroked a hand up Adam’s neck, finding the first start of stubble across his jaw.
It was like every thought he’d ever blocked, every fantasy he’d ever refused to acknowledge, was blasting through his brain all at once with the force of a hurricane. Everything he knew was with a girl. Like reciting a learned lesson, something he could do because he had to.
This—this was new. And exciting. And primal and raw and right.
And insanely hot. He wished there weren’t so many damn clothes in the way.
They were going to be on the floor in a minute.
“Easy. Easy,” said Adam.
Nick felt like he was coming up for air.
Hell, he was practically panting.
He looked into Adam’s brown eyes, which were just now searching his.
“Well,” said Adam, a slight smile on his lips. “That was unexpected.”
Unexpected. Somehow the best and worst word to use. All of a sudden, the emotion of the evening caught up with him, and Nick felt the inexplicable urge to put his head on Adam’s shoulder and cry.
But then a girl cleared her throat from behind him.
“You can say that again,” said Quinn.
CHAPTER 6
Quinn wondered just how many times life was going to jerk her around today.
She’d have to storm past Nick and Adam to get to the front door, but a sliding glass door led out of the living room. An alcoholic buzz still made her thoughts swim, but she managed to get the lock thrown. She stumbled onto the tiny concrete patio. Cold air bit at her cheeks before Nick caught up to her.
“Stop,” he said. “Quinn, stop, please—”
She swung around and hit him. Rage-filled strikes that slammed into his chest and made her head ache and vision whirl.
She was vaguely aware she was crying, and she had no idea how many times she hit him before he caught her arms and forced her still.
Quinn looked up at him. Her body felt like she was still moving. The stars spun overhead. Her stomach rolled.
“Quinn,” he whispered.
“Nick,” she said back.
And then she threw up on his feet.
He deserved it, but that didn’t make it any less humiliating. She expected him to shove her away in disgust, or to drop her there in her own puke, because she could barely hold herself upright.
But he kicked off his shoes and picked her up.
“I want you to leave me alone,” she said, even as her head lolled onto his shoulder against her will.
“No offense,” he said as he carried her back into the apartment, “but I’m pretty sure you’re as screwed up about what you want as I am.”
He cleaned her up and put her back in Adam’s bed. Then he wrapped the quilt around her and lay down beside her.
Adam brought her Tylenol and a glass of water, then left them alone.
Quinn stared through the darkness at the ceiling. It wasn’t spinning now. Every breath seemed to clear her head.
Stupid tears were still leaking out of her eyes, and she angrily swiped them away.
“I’m sorry,” said Nick.
“So you’re g*y?”
He was silent for a moment, and his voice was careful. “I don’t know.”
“No offense,” she said, mocking his earlier tone, “but I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of thing you’d know by now.”
He rolled up on one shoulder to look down at her—but he didn’t say anything.
And then she recognized the uncertainty in his eyes, the mixture of worry and fear and panic and need. She struggled with acceptance every day—she’d never considered that someone like Nick Merrick would be struggling with the same thing. He’d seemed like such a rock, such a steady, put-together guy, and she’d latched on to him, hoping to find some security.
He was really just as screwed up as she was.
That chased the anger away. “Do your brothers know?” she said quietly.
“I don’t know if there’s anything to know, Quinn.”
Well, that sounded like a heaping load of self-denial. She didn’t look away from him and chose her words carefully. “Do they have any idea you might have entertained the thought of kissing another boy?”
His voice was resigned. “No.”
“Not even Gabriel?”
“No. Jesus, no.”
She stretched her hand out from under the blanket and found his. “It’s okay,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He rolled back to stare at the same ceiling, but he kept hold of her hand. “I should have just taken you back to my house tonight.”
“No, I’m glad this happened.” Then she winced. “I mean, not the puking part. But I thought you were just stringing me along.”
“Quinn.” He squeezed her hand. “I kind of was.”
She moved closer and put her head on his shoulder. “But now I understand why.”
Nick sighed, but he didn’t say anything.
“I should have known you were too good to be true,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means my luck sucks,” she said. “It was nice dating a guy who treated me like a friend instead of a blow-up doll.”
Oh, and the next moment, when Adam bit at Nick’s lip.
And the moment after that, when Nick stroked a hand up Adam’s neck, finding the first start of stubble across his jaw.
It was like every thought he’d ever blocked, every fantasy he’d ever refused to acknowledge, was blasting through his brain all at once with the force of a hurricane. Everything he knew was with a girl. Like reciting a learned lesson, something he could do because he had to.
This—this was new. And exciting. And primal and raw and right.
And insanely hot. He wished there weren’t so many damn clothes in the way.
They were going to be on the floor in a minute.
“Easy. Easy,” said Adam.
Nick felt like he was coming up for air.
Hell, he was practically panting.
He looked into Adam’s brown eyes, which were just now searching his.
“Well,” said Adam, a slight smile on his lips. “That was unexpected.”
Unexpected. Somehow the best and worst word to use. All of a sudden, the emotion of the evening caught up with him, and Nick felt the inexplicable urge to put his head on Adam’s shoulder and cry.
But then a girl cleared her throat from behind him.
“You can say that again,” said Quinn.
CHAPTER 6
Quinn wondered just how many times life was going to jerk her around today.
She’d have to storm past Nick and Adam to get to the front door, but a sliding glass door led out of the living room. An alcoholic buzz still made her thoughts swim, but she managed to get the lock thrown. She stumbled onto the tiny concrete patio. Cold air bit at her cheeks before Nick caught up to her.
“Stop,” he said. “Quinn, stop, please—”
She swung around and hit him. Rage-filled strikes that slammed into his chest and made her head ache and vision whirl.
She was vaguely aware she was crying, and she had no idea how many times she hit him before he caught her arms and forced her still.
Quinn looked up at him. Her body felt like she was still moving. The stars spun overhead. Her stomach rolled.
“Quinn,” he whispered.
“Nick,” she said back.
And then she threw up on his feet.
He deserved it, but that didn’t make it any less humiliating. She expected him to shove her away in disgust, or to drop her there in her own puke, because she could barely hold herself upright.
But he kicked off his shoes and picked her up.
“I want you to leave me alone,” she said, even as her head lolled onto his shoulder against her will.
“No offense,” he said as he carried her back into the apartment, “but I’m pretty sure you’re as screwed up about what you want as I am.”
He cleaned her up and put her back in Adam’s bed. Then he wrapped the quilt around her and lay down beside her.
Adam brought her Tylenol and a glass of water, then left them alone.
Quinn stared through the darkness at the ceiling. It wasn’t spinning now. Every breath seemed to clear her head.
Stupid tears were still leaking out of her eyes, and she angrily swiped them away.
“I’m sorry,” said Nick.
“So you’re g*y?”
He was silent for a moment, and his voice was careful. “I don’t know.”
“No offense,” she said, mocking his earlier tone, “but I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of thing you’d know by now.”
He rolled up on one shoulder to look down at her—but he didn’t say anything.
And then she recognized the uncertainty in his eyes, the mixture of worry and fear and panic and need. She struggled with acceptance every day—she’d never considered that someone like Nick Merrick would be struggling with the same thing. He’d seemed like such a rock, such a steady, put-together guy, and she’d latched on to him, hoping to find some security.
He was really just as screwed up as she was.
That chased the anger away. “Do your brothers know?” she said quietly.
“I don’t know if there’s anything to know, Quinn.”
Well, that sounded like a heaping load of self-denial. She didn’t look away from him and chose her words carefully. “Do they have any idea you might have entertained the thought of kissing another boy?”
His voice was resigned. “No.”
“Not even Gabriel?”
“No. Jesus, no.”
She stretched her hand out from under the blanket and found his. “It’s okay,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He rolled back to stare at the same ceiling, but he kept hold of her hand. “I should have just taken you back to my house tonight.”
“No, I’m glad this happened.” Then she winced. “I mean, not the puking part. But I thought you were just stringing me along.”
“Quinn.” He squeezed her hand. “I kind of was.”
She moved closer and put her head on his shoulder. “But now I understand why.”
Nick sighed, but he didn’t say anything.
“I should have known you were too good to be true,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means my luck sucks,” she said. “It was nice dating a guy who treated me like a friend instead of a blow-up doll.”
