“Damn you!” came Quinn’s infuriated voice.
He grabbed her shoulders and twisted her around, and the look in his eyes caused a lump of fear to lodge in her throat. She’d never seen him like this, his green eyes glittered with menace, his lips an angry slash across his face. She swallowed when she noticed the scrape on his left temple, the thin trail of blood on his cheek. He’d been cut when the pot had shattered. There were even little white pieces of ceramic caught in his dark hair. No wonder he looked like he wanted to throttle her.
His fury seemed to escalate when he caught sight of her face. “Don’t!” he snapped. “Don’t you dare be afraid of me.”
“I—”
“A lot of things might have changed in two years, but not that. I would never hurt you. Never.”
Her heart thudded against her rib cage, making each individual rib tremble. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“For what?” he shot back. “Using my head like a piñata or thinking I was going to hit you just now?”
She cringed. “Both.”
Quinn shook his head angrily. He looked like he was struggling to rein in his temper. “Damn it, Morgan. Do you think I want to be here right now? Do you think I enjoy chasing after you in the woods at midnight?”
“Then let me go,” she begged him.
“I can’t.”
She heard the pain lining those two words, and when she lifted her head to meet his gaze, her breath lodged in her throat. A kaleidoscope of emotions reflected back at her, the most prominent being sorrow. And then his eyes dropped to her mouth, and desire joined the mix.
She stared at him, transfixed, while a rush of pleasure poured into her body. He still wanted her. Oh, God, he still wanted her. The happiness she received from the realization was so strong she nearly keeled over backward. For two years she’d longed for this man, woken up in the middle of the night searching for his big, warm body. And in those two years, he hadn’t contacted her. Not even once. She thought he’d gotten over her. That he’d somehow managed to exorcise the powerful attraction bonding them together.
It was unbelievably satisfying knowing he hadn’t, that she wasn’t alone in the longing department.
“Damn you,” he said again, his voice thick.
“Quinn…” she began.
But he didn’t let her finish. Even as her lips formed his name, his lips were swallowing up the sound. He captured her mouth, kissing her so deeply that all thoughts drained from her head. Common sense left her, too, as she kissed him back frantically. His lips were firm, his tongue hot and insistent as it slid into her mouth as if it belonged there. No, because it belonged there.
Morgan leaned into his hard body, angling her head for better access, drowning in his familiar kiss. As their mouths meshed and tongues tangled, she realized there would never be anyone else for her. She was his.
I missed you.
The words bit at her lips, so she kissed him back with more fervor, before those silly words could find a way out. But God, how she’d missed him. Missed this—his hot spicy taste, the way his five o’clock shadow deliciously scraped her cheek.
“Damn it.”
His sudden curse jolted her from the haze of passion. She gasped as he pulled back, the sensual contact snapping like a bungee cord.
Morgan looked up at him with wide eyes, her brain working so fast she feared it might shut down like an overloaded computer.
And Quinn…he was looking at her in horror, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done and with whom.
“Jesus,” he muttered, dropping his hands from her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She struggled to steady her breathing. Hard to do when her entire body still felt winded from that explosive kiss. “Then why did you?” she whispered.
He went silent, his brows drawn together in a frown. But instead of answering the question, he simply cleared his throat and said, “I can’t let you go back to Autumn alone. You could be in danger. You need to be home, where your father can protect you.”
“My father only wants to protect himself.” She rubbed her temples in frustration. “He had me committed, even after I told him I didn’t drive my car off a bridge.”
Quinn didn’t respond, simply frowned.
“I need to find the truth,” she murmured. “I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to Layla for ten years. I can’t stop now.”
“Layla is dead,” Quinn said emphatically.
“Yeah, and someone tried to kill me after her body was found.” Tears pricked her eyelids. “When she disappeared, I knew she was dead. And I was right.”
“Yes, you were. So why can’t you let it go now?” He suddenly groaned. “Forget it. I know why you can’t. Because you’re Morgan Kerr.”
She shot him a faint smile. “That’s me, always the troublemaker…”
Quinn didn’t return the smile. “Please, Morgan, let me take you home.”
“No.”
He let out a sigh, but before he could open his mouth to object, she hurried on. “Look, I know you don’t owe me any favors. If anything, I’m the one who ought to be making amends.” Her voice wavered. “But please, Quinn, do me this favor. Come back to Autumn with me.”
He muttered a hasty expletive. “I already said no.”
“And I’m trying to change your mind. I think the smartest move would be having you with me.” She forced herself not to think about that crazy kiss or their turbulent history as she continued. “You’re a mercenary. You could keep me safe, and since we both agree there was foul play out on that bridge, then my safety is definitely an issue.”
He stayed silent. A gust of icy wind swept through the woods, lifting Quinn’s dark hair, and Morgan noticed the blood on his temple had dried. She was tempted to reach out and touch the wound, but kept her hands to her side. She could clean the cut later. After he agreed to come with her. Which he would. She could see the resolve in his eyes crumbling.
She decided to give him one last push.
“You once told me you’d always protect me.” She tilted her head. “What if I go alone and get hurt? Could you live with that, knowing I’d asked for your protection and you denied me?”
He gave a short bark of a laugh. “That’s low, sweetheart, even for you.”
She shrugged. “Did it work?”
Quinn released a heavy sigh. “What the hell do you think?”
Of all the stupid, moronic, asinine things Quinn had ever done in his thirty-two years of life, this one took the prize. What was he thinking, agreeing to take Morgan to Autumn? During the entire hike back to the main road, where he’d left his car, he’d been asking himself that question. And now, as he unlocked the doors of the black SUV, the answer still eluded him.
The best he could come up with? That flowerpot to the head had knocked a few screws loose.
“Thank you for doing this,” Morgan said as she slid into the passenger seat.
He started the engine, then turned on the heat full-blast, hoping it might thaw the useless block of ice his brain had become. He couldn’t do this. Just being near this woman was pure torture. He was aching for her, angry at her, torn between pulling her into his arms and pushing her far, far away.
Setting his jaw, he spared her a glance and said, “Buckle your