Quinn took a card from him. “My thanks.”
“She swears this isnae your doin’, and I’ve no choice but to believe her.”
“I’d never hit her or any woman. I’d have stopped the bastard if I’d seen the blow comin’. I couldnae go after him because I was holdin’ her.”
“It seems the two of you have had a rough time of it.” The paramedic eyed his bruised face again then handed Quinn a business card. “Dinnae hesitate to call, aye?”
Quinn held the door for him then locked it and walked to the bedroom.
Elizabeth was sound asleep, a brochure about resources for victims of domestic abuse on the bed beside her. He covered her with a blanket, picked up the brochure, then crumpled it in his hand, overwhelmed by disgust. Why hadn’t anyone helped his mother? Why hadn’t he done more to protect her?
Then he turned off the light. “Sleep sweet.”
13
Elizabeth woke the next morning feeling a little light-headed from the pain pill the paramedic had given her, her headache mostly gone. Her spirits sank to find herself alone. She could have sworn Quinn had been there during the night, but he wasn’t beside her now. He’d been angry with her, and she supposed she couldn’t blame him, though she hadn’t meant to get punched in the face.
She climbed out of bed, found herself still fully clothed, and walked to the bathroom to shower and brush her teeth, glancing out at the living area as she passed.
Her heart melted.
Quinn lay, shirtless and sound asleep, on her sofa. He was a mountain of a man, and the sofa was small, his big feet sticking off the end. That couldn’t be comfortable.
Then she saw it—the almost empty whisky bottle.
Oh, Quinn.
She’d never thought of his drinking as a problem because she’d never met an operator who didn’t drink hard. But she’d spent enough time with Quinn now to know that he was self-medicating. Not that he didn’t have good reason to want to blunt his emotions with Jack lying in the morgue. But how many times in the past few years had she heard him say that he just wanted awee swally?
She walked to the bathroom, flicked on the light, and got a good look at herself for the first time. “Shit.”
She’d never had a black eye before, and this was a bad one—or a good one, depending on how a person felt about it. Her left cheek was swollen, a dark bruise spreading across her temple and around her eye.
You look like a raccoon, girl.
She stripped and stepped into the shower, hot water and shampoo clearing her head, reviving her. She rinsed her hair, opened her eyes, gasped.
Quinn stood in the doorway, leaning up against the door jamb, arms crossed over his bare chest, his gaze sliding over her, a mix of concern and lust on his face. “I didnae mean to startle you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay bein’ in here by yourself.”
“I’m fine—and you’re free to stay and watch or join me if you like.”
His lips curved in a slow smile that she felt deep in her belly. “I like.”
He shucked his jeans and boxers, opened the glass door, and stepped into the shower, his gaze darkening when he looked at her cheek. “I should have killed him.”
“He would have killed you right back.” She got her hands soapy and ran them over his wet skin, aroused by the sculpted feel of him, his chest hair rasping against her palms, his nipples tightening under her touch, his erection jutting up between them.
He did the same, lavishing attention on her breasts, belly, and ass, his hands spreading fire over her skin, fueling the blaze between her thighs. “Your skin is so soft.”
It turned her on just to see how much touching her turnedhimon, his brow furrowed, his blue eyes burning as his gaze moved over her.
She squeezed a bicep. “You’re so hard—all of you.”
They rinsed, water sluicing over their skin.
Quinn kissed her, soft butterfly kisses. “I want to go down on you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated.”