Through the Fire (9 page)

Quinn was still trying to get the attention of a waiter to get another drink. The waiters were huddled in a corner, talking among themselves and clapping like everyone else.
What the hell is wrong with everybody? Can’t a man get served properly?

Before Rae knew it, he was up and marching angrily through the tables. She watched him with the waiters gesturing wildly back toward the table, his mouth moving a mile a minute.
What could he be so mad about? One of the waiters began walking away from Quinn and he followed, still talking and motioning with his hands. Finally, Quinn returned.

Once back at the table, he sat quietly fuming until Amir left the stage and the lights came up. The waiter brought his drink, serving him but rolling his eyes the entire time. Quinn said nothing. His mind seemed somewhere else. Rae watched him silently, watching the storm of emotions swirl across his face. She wanted to ask him what was wrong. Wanted to get into his head. But she wasn’t sure if she was ready to handle what she might find there.

He killed half the drink in one swig. He glanced at her sideways, and blurted out something. The noise in the place was deafening. You couldn’t hear yourself think.

“What did you say, Quinn?”

“You said you had a daughter…and I said I have a son.” He almost shouted it so she could hear him above the noise of the drinkers and laughers.

A
son?
“I didn’t know you and Nikita had a child,” she said warily. “How old is he?”

He was determined to get it all out. “Nikita’s not the mother. Someone else is the mother, another woman.”

“Another woman?” she asked in confusion. “Who?”

“Maxine. It didn’t work out.”

What had she walked into? Another woman with his child. Where were they? What was his relationship with this Maxine he alluded to so casually? She had a million questions but couldn’t get them together to ask.

He was staring at his drink, looking down into the glass. “My son’s name is Jamel. He lives on the West Coast with his mother. She married some guy.”

A momentary wave of relief. “Did you love your son’s mother?” she asked, looking him in the face.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he said, a bit wobbly, standing. “Let’s get out of here. I need some fresh air.”

He paid the waiter, walked toward the door with Rae a step behind him. Had he stopped to consider Rae’s feelings—shock, surprise, doubt—he may have handled the disclosure of
his son’s existence a lot differently. Instead, he got buzzed and blurted it like a tattletale before a glum teacher. Inside, he knew this should have been handled with much more finesse and grace. But at the moment he didn’t care. All he could think about was shocking Rae, upsetting her balance to see if she would stay or bolt. Tomorrow, he’d feel even worse when he really thought it through. He kept walking through the doors, past the bouncers, to the street. Rae was right behind him—
staying.

When he looked back at the place, there, in the shadows of the entrance, stood that woman. The look in her eyes would remain stapled in his mind for the next week, haunting him, triggering feelings that shook him to the core of his being.

R
ae stole furtive glances at Quinn from the corner of her eye. His profile was intent, rigid almost. He’d been edgy and short from the moment he’d walked into Encore, and she wondered why he’d bothered to come at all, if what he’d intended to do was brood.

And then that woman. She frowned. She didn’t know what was going on there, but it shook Quinn up to a point that he said he was ready to leave. She seemed harmless enough, just a lonely,
late-middle-aged woman trying to make a living and pass the time chatting with customers.

“Are you all right?” Rae asked again for the tenth time.

Quinn rolled to a stop in front of her building. “Yeah, I’m cool.”

She pushed out a frustrated breath. She had no clue how to get through to him if he wouldn’t talk to her.

“Fine,” she said a bit sharply and opened the passenger door. “I guess I’ll talk to you later…or not.” She got out and slammed the door behind her, her temperature rising with each step she took.

“It’s not worth it,” she fumed, pacing the floor of her apartment, as she tossed her jacket in the corner, her ankle-length boots in another. She pulled off her black silk blouse and stomped toward her bedroom. “He stops me at every turn, slams doors in my face, cuts me out, then blames me for how he feels.” She flung open her closet door and snatched out her robe. “Why is this only about him? What about me? Why the hell can’t he see that I hurt, too, that I need, too?” Tears filled her eyes, but
she refused to cry. Not anymore, not over Quinten Parker.

How could she have been so totally wrong about him, about them? She was playing a naive game with her heart, and she’d lost big-time. It was clear that Quinten Parker was content staying exactly where he was in his life. She glanced up in the dresser mirror, truth reflected back at her. And so was she.

Quinn drove around for the next thirty minutes, trying to get his head together, going over the events of the evening. What was happening to him? Up until he met Rae he’d gone through his days without feeling, without any thought other than waiting for it to end.

Since she’d marched into his life, she forced him to confront himself, his past, his present, his future. She pushed his music back in his face, brought him to the studio, invited him to clubs—compelled him to interact with the world again. All the things he’d stopped caring about.

Jamel, Rae, Max, Mrs. Finch…and now that old woman
—they were all swarming around him, buzzing, buzzing in his head, stirring up
buried thoughts, making him feel. Damn, it was so much easier not to. He pulled to a stop and realized he was back in front of Rae’s building. Fate? He almost smiled. From the moment he met this woman, she had him doing stuff he had no intention of doing.

He looked up at her window. The lights were still on. He cut the engine and hoped she’d listen to what he had to say, would try to explain.

Rae stepped from the tub and wrapped herself in her favorite sea-green terry cloth robe, a gift from Gail last Christmas. Christmas, she mused, rubbing body oil into her still damp skin. It would be here in a matter of weeks. A time for family and friends, being with the ones you loved. The holiday season had been one of sadness for her since Sterling and Akia. Generally, she locked herself in the house and didn’t take calls until after the New Year. She didn’t want to hear the holiday greetings, have to decline the ceaseless stream of party invitations because she wasn’t up to the joy that everyone else shared that she could no longer feel, see families shopping together,
buying trees and gifts for that special someone. When she’d met Quinn during the summer, she’d secretly hoped that they could close out the year together and move into the next one. It didn’t seem that that was going to happen. And she knew it was partly her fault.

She wanted it all, demanded more than she was willing to give. She wanted him to turn over his heart and soul to her, when she was only ready to come halfway. She knew she was taking the easy way out, hiding behind her demands and expectations,
her
wants. Could she really blame him for shutting her out? Quinn wasn’t the kind of guy who simply lay back and gave it all. She knew that and still she pushed. Just as she did with everything else in her life, until she lost.

She didn’t want to lose him. Lord knew she didn’t. But this was uncharted territory, new ground. And she had no road map for Quinn, or even for herself. Somehow she had to find it, for both of their sakes.

He only hesitated for a moment before ringing the bell. Second-guessing himself at this point was useless. Either she’d listen or she wouldn’t.

Rae peeked out of the window, sure that someone was ringing the wrong buzzer. If she’d been asleep, she’d really be pissed off. It was nearly two a.m. The last person she expected to see was Quinn, standing on her steps. Well, she asked for a road map, maybe this was the starting point.

She buzzed the door, silently praying that the detours wouldn’t turn into roadblocks.

Rae sat on one of the floor pillows opposite Quinn, deciding that this time she would let him take the lead. She sipped on the cup of herbal tea she’d made for them both, while Quinn held his between his hands, staring into the amber brew as if it held the answers that he sought.

“I want to apologize…about tonight,” he finally began. “There wasn’t a reason for me to go off on you like that, act all crazy. And that was a lousy way to tell you about my son.”

She remained quiet, letting him speak.

He shook his head sharply, his features pinched in frustration. “So much has been happening lately, you know…to me…inside…in
my head.” He glanced up at her, held her gaze for a moment before looking away. “When I met you I just figured it would be ‘a thing,’ you know, someone to get with from time to time.”

She inwardly cringed at his bluntness but held her tongue.

He shrugged his right shoulder. “Didn’t turn out like that, Rae.”

She tugged on her bottom lip to keep herself from talking, not wanting to cut off what he’d begun.

“It’s just that it’s been a while since a woman’s been in my life for more than a minute.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “I know I want you in my life, Rae, just don’t know how much yet. I can’t ask you to hang around until I work it out.”

Slowly, Rae nodded. This was the detour she hadn’t anticipated. “I see,” she said softly. She rose from the pillow to sit beside him, gently tucking that stray lock behind his ear. “Maybe we fell into each other’s lives at the wrong time, Quinn. You know. All the pieces are there, they just don’t fit.” Her voice wavered for a moment, but she continued. “I care about you, Quinn…
more than care about you, but you’re right, I can’t nor will I wait forever.”

“So now what?”

She got up, began to walk away, tightening the belt of her robe around her waist. “So…now I guess we go back to where we were before we met.” She pulled in a breath and her resolve.

“Is that what you really want?”

She spun to face him. “Sometimes when it comes to you, I don’t know what I want. Sometimes I just want to run as fast and as far away from you as I can.” She swallowed over the knot in her throat, seeing the inevitable end drawing closer. “Other times I…I want to know what it’s like to have the whole man, love the whole man, not just a part of him. I want to be that person in your life that matters.”

“Things are so clear for you, Rae. Me…” he said, his voice trailing off, feeling everything suddenly slipping away, his anchor shifting. He stepped up to her and cupped her face in his palm. “I’ve been alone for a long time, Rae. A long time. Being with someone, meaning something to someone, living up to expectations…I just…”

She looked up at him, her heart aching for the anguish and conflict she saw reflected in his eyes. “Are you willing to at least try?”

He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “It’s not going to be easy, Rae.”

“I know,” she whispered.

His dark eyes roamed slowly over her face, asking permission, which she gave, letting her lips gently touch his.

Deep in her heart she knew she shouldn’t have him this way, give herself to him this way, at this time, when they were both so vulnerable, so uncertain. But she couldn’t stop the heat that raced through her body when his hands caressed her spine, her hips, cupping her to him, letting her feel the strength of his erection, his need for her.

She wanted him. It was as simple, as carnal as that. She wanted this man, wanted to love him, to heal him and maybe herself in the process.

When he slid his hands beneath the folds of her robe and stroked the tips of her nipples, her knees nearly gave way beneath her. Her soft moan, a mixture of agony and ecstasy, slid into his mouth in unison with her tongue, which did a slow, sensual dance with his.

“Rae,” he whispered hot and feverish against her neck, pulling the robe down to expose her shoulders, her chest, the ample rise of her breasts. He lowered his head as she instinctively arched her back against the support of his strong embrace, taking one taut berry-colored nipple into his mouth, savoring the texture of it, relishing the warmth of her body, the feel of her satiny flesh beneath his hands.

Rae tugged the belt loose, letting it fall into a cottony pool at her feet, wanting him to see her, experience her in full. She stepped back, bold now, her desire for him evident in the almost smoky look in her eyes. She stretched her hands out to him, offering him more than just her body, a resting place for his soul, if only for one night. When he finally reached for her hands, and followed her to her bedroom, she knew that this was one of many steps they would take to cross the chasm that separated them.

Rae slowly backed toward the bed, still holding his hands, his gaze. For a man who always appeared to be cool and in control even
in the heat of revelations, for the first time she saw uncertainty in his eyes.

“Quinn?” she whispered. She saw his throat work up and down, but no words came. She crossed the short space between them, cupped his face in her hands. “It’s okay,” she said urgently. “No strings, no ties, just tonight, you and me.” One by one she unfastened the buttons to his shirt, then pushed it off his shoulders and down his arms. She unbuckled his belt, slid down the zipper of his pants, and pushed them to his ankles. With nimble fingers she played with the band of his briefs, intermittently teasing his penis, which jumped and pulsed at her touch until she had those off as well.

She wanted to be as cool as he, but she couldn’t. He was true beauty to behold. Even in the soft light of the bedroom, she could easily make out the cut of muscle in his chest and arms as if they were carved. His long, lean torso dipped to a taut stomach that rippled under her touch. Nestled in the triangular patch of thick hair was the center of his manhood.

She almost cried out when she took him into
her hand, gently massaging the smooth skin, simple camouflage for the hard muscle beneath.

Then without warning, he picked her up and took her to bed, the fire in his eyes and his escalated breathing causing her heart to race, no longer sure of what to expect.

In a breath he was braced above her, rocking his hips against her center without entering her. She thought she would go mad, until he touched her there, with merely a fingertip, tenderly teasing the bud that seemed to bloom with each caress.

Her body began to move of its own volition as he played with her, teased her, took her to new heights of pleasure. He seemed to be everywhere at once, and surely he must be, because her entire body was on fire. His tongue was like a trained masseuse, eliciting sounds of pleasure wherever it landed. But when he took her into his mouth, her body convulsed as the first wave of her climax hit her with such force that her voice echoed throughout the four-room apartment. And it wouldn’t stop. Her body trembled and shuddered, her head thrashed back and forth on the now damp pillow as he
held her hips securely in his hands and continued to pleasure her until she was sure she would faint.

She called his name over and over, but it was as if he didn’t hear her, didn’t want to hear her pleas. And just when she was certain she could endure no more he raised up, sliding a condom along his length, the momentary halting of pleasure nearly sending her over the edge with longing. And then, the length and breadth of him filled her in one deep thrust, taking her breath away.

He moved slow and easy, the way he walked. Took his time with her until she’d adjusted her body to his, matched his movements, caught her breath. And little by little the pace quickened, the push and pull into her body became more urgent, more demanding. His low groans hummed in her ears, until he raised up, pulling her hips to match him stroke for stroke until the grip and release of her sex was more than he could take and the shuddering climax tore through him with a power, yet a serenity he’d never before known.

When he lay with her, nestled in his arms,
listening to the beat of her heart, he thought about what had happened between them, how he’d felt, how it frightened him with its intensity. He knew that this was no one-night stand, no matter what she’d said.