Allison Brennan - The Hunt

She’d almost asked Quinn to spend the night. She wondered if he’d been waiting for her to ask. Now she wished she had.

The anger she’d held on to so very long seemed to have dissipated these last few days. When she had first seen Quinn, she’d been so angry, so shocked, so worried that he would see right through her tough façade. She feared he’d question every decision she made, everything she said, every action.

But when she woke up this morning, she didn’t fear what he’d say if he saw she was struggling under the strain of the investigation. Instead, she found herself wanting to see him.

She pulled on her warm coat, pocketed her gun, and left the warmth of her cabin. She paused on the porch, breathing in the cold air, shivering even though she was bundled up. It would be forty-five degrees tonight. Not cold enough to freeze poor Ashley, but cold enough that she’d probably wish she were dead.

Miranda had.

She half ran to the Lodge and let herself in through the employee entrance. She didn’t give herself the opportunity to second-guess her decision. She walked right up the stairs to his room and knocked on the door.

Opening the door, Quinn wore gray sweat pants and nothing else. Miranda sucked in her breath at the sight of his chest. She thought she’d forgotten how handsome he was, but she hadn’t. She remembered every well-defined muscle on his lean body. There wasn’t one extra fat cell.

He was as perfect now as he had been at thirty.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, sounding a tad breathless. Her heart pounded with anticipation. Coming here, she had known what would happen. What she hoped would happen.

She needed him. Quinn would chase away her demons and make her feel warm. Desirable. More a woman, less a victim.

“Miranda-”

She stepped inside and closed the door. Quinn reached out, took her hand, and drew her to him. “I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed you,” she said, her voice unusually husky.

“God, how I’ve missed you, Miranda.”

He kissed her.

There was nothing tentative about this kiss. He held her face and sunk into her. She felt like she was coming home.

She’d never stopped loving him. Quinn had been so patient with her, so incredibly supportive. He’d done everything for her, including recommending her for the Academy when he hadn’t thought she was ready.

Miranda’s feelings of betrayal and fear were washed away in his warm embrace. The heat flared. She wouldn’t be satisfied with just a kiss. She wanted more. Everything.

She wanted him back.

Quinn pulled away, looked at her, and frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Wrong? Nothing.”

“These?” He wiped tears from her cheek. She hadn’t known they were there. He kissed his damp fingers, then her cheek.

“Miranda, I’ve been waiting so long for you to come back to me.”

She took his hand and kissed his palm, holding it close. “I realized something over the last couple of days. You were right. I wanted to be in the FBI for the wrong reasons. I thought the badge would buy me courage. It would be a shield against the fear I lived with every day.”

“Miranda, you have more courage than anyone I’ve ever met. You never needed a badge to confirm it.”

“I understand that now. But I don’t know if I have the courage to make it through tomorrow without you. If Larsen really is the Butcher, I don’t know how I’ll face him.”

“You don’t have to.”

She nodded. “Oh, but I do. I was going to say, I don’t know how I’ll face him, but I will. I will prove to myself that I can do it. But it’ll be easier with you at my side.”

Quinn pulled her as close to him as possible with her bundles of clothing. “Miranda, I’ll be there every step of the way.”

“Can I get rid of the jacket?”

Quinn smiled and kissed her forehead as he helped her off with the jacket. Her sweater. Her shirt. She stood in her camisole and jeans. Quinn looked as if he wanted to eat her up. She warmed under his intense perusal.

She leaned up and kissed him.

He held her face in his hands and kissed her again and again, as if trying to make up for all the kisses they’d missed over the years. How had she given up such affection? Each kiss brought back the intimacy they’d once shared, Quinn’s patience, his support, and the first time they’d made love.

A moan escaped her lips and he gently pushed her down onto the bed. “You’re beautiful, Randy,” he whispered, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, then back up again. She shivered, little currents of electricity running up and down her spine.

She reached for him, wanting to pull him down with her, to fully kiss him, but he teased her with the light caresses, his fingers walking down her arm and back up, skimming over her breasts, then back again. A seductive touch that made her want to peel off his sweatpants.

Except she was enjoying every delicious moment. It had been too long, much too long.

She reached out for him, ran her hands up and down his hard back. His dark eyes looked down at her, his strong jaw quivered with suppressed desire. “Miranda, are you sure?”

She nodded, leaned up, and kissed him.

Quinn wanted to make love to her. Now.

The first time they made love more than a decade ago, he knew she hadn’t enjoyed it. She had wanted to get it over with, prove something to herself. That she trusted him with her body and heart had been a heady experience, and he’d never pushed her. But as their relationship grew and Miranda became more comfortable in bed with him, their lovemaking turned passionate and full of heat.

Her touches now sparked that same intense desire. And by her body moving to meet his, he was hitting all the right spots.

He took off her jeans and pulled off her sexy little camisole.

The first time he’d seen the scars the Butcher had left on her breasts, he hadn’t been able to conceal raw anger. Miranda interpreted it as disgust, and it took him days to make her understand.

She was beautiful, scars and all. He had convinced her of his sincerity and his love, but every time she exposed her breasts she tensed.

He kissed them. Lightly. Lovingly. He didn’t spend too much time on her chest, knowing she wasn’t completely comfortable. He remembered everything about her. She’d lost weight and her ribs showed. He should have been here to keep her eating right, keep her healthy. But her muscles were tight and hard. She was in better physical shape now than she had been at the Academy, but that didn’t surprise him.

He was proud of her, that she’d worked so hard to get where she was. And she thought she lacked bravery? She was the epitome of courage.

Miranda gasped when Quinn’s tongue lightly skimmed over her stomach, sending glorious shockwaves tingling up and down her body, heating her from within. His teeth bit her panties and pulled them down so his tongue could tease and tantalize her, getting closer and closer without touching the one area she wanted him to fully explore. With firm hands, he stripped her, staring at her body.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, bending down again to kiss her thigh.

“Make love to me,” she said, her voice urgent. She wanted him now .

She felt more than heard a chuckle from his lips on her inner thigh as his mouth moved down to her knee, her calf, trailing kisses and warmth.

He kissed her toes and she shivered, slivers of fire beginning to pool in her center. His patience was admirable in many ways, but right now she wanted him inside her. Making love to her.

“Quinn,” she gasped.

His lips trailed back up her leg, searing her skin. She was never cold in Quinn’s arms. She was hot. Combustible.