Page 12 of Alaskan Blackout
Four
Quinton wasn’t a man who surprised easily.
Yet he’d never seen this kiss coming. Maybe if he had, he could have steeled himself against the soft give of McKenna’s lush mouth on his, or somehow prepared for the unexpected taste of cinnamon lip gloss she must have slicked on after dinner.
If he’d had his faculties about him, maybe he could have made a smarter decision about kissing her. Because he knew better than to take advantage of a woman who’d just allowed herself to be vulnerable with him. But the sensory overload of McKenna’s cool fingers sliding around his neck, her warm body straining closer as she leaned over the SUV console while sexy sounds of pleasure hummed from her throat, were too much for Quinton to ignore. His body responded long before his brain caught up.
Already, his hands were on her. One arm wrapped around her shoulders to draw her near, while the other hand angled her face so he could taste her more thoroughly. And his tongue explored her like he was making a map, seeking out the places that made her shiver and squirm.
How many times had he imagined this? In the space of less than a week, it was too many to count. And not once had he guessed sampling her mouth would wreck him so completely. Or that a few minutes of her lips traveling on his skin, trailing cinnamon-scented kisses along his jaw and down his neck, would have him calculating how fast he could take her home and undress her.
Except he wasn’t supposed to caress or kiss her. Because this was Clayton’s baby sister.
Breaking the contact, Quinton edged back, panting like he’d just finished sprinting. The sight of McKenna with her eyes still closed, lashes fluttering against her cheeks and her lips glistening, was enough to make him question his sanity. What kind of man would leave her alone and wanting when it was his touch that had ignited her?
He wrestled down his worst instincts with an effort. Swiping his hand across his face, he attempted to blot out the images of the things he craved scrolling through his head.
And failed. Miserably.
“Does my kissing technique need work?” she asked a moment later, her voice sounding bemused.
Quinton dragged open his eyes to see her staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and wariness in her blue gaze.
“If your technique got any better, I’d be driving like a bat out of a hell to take you home with me,” he told her sternly. He needed to get himself under control, but it wasn’t easy when the taste of her lingered on his tongue.
The sight of her slightly tousled ponytail reminding him that he’d tunneled his fingers through it when he’d urged her against him.
A mischievous smile curved her lips. “And that’s a problem because...?”
“Because you’re Clay’sstepsister,” he reminded her of the obvious. The relationship that made anything between them impossible. “And that makes you strictly off-limits.”
Her auburn brows crinkled together, lips pursing in confusion. “You’re no relation ofmine,” she reminded him.
As if he didn’t understand the dynamics all too well already. Hell, sitting in the vehicle that had fogged up while they were kissing was only tempting him to kiss her again and again. He needed to drive her back to her place, then go back to his hotel alone so he could take the coldest shower possible.
Flipping on the defogger, he activated the windshield wipers and prepared to back out of the parking lot.
“I’m aware of that,” he answered slowly, willing reason to return. “But that doesn’t make it right for me to touch someone my brother considers family.”
Deeming the window visibility safe enough to drive, Quinton wrenched his seat belt across his lap and jammed the buckle home.
“Is this some weird bro code thing?” she asked, her voice sounding less amused and more irritated now.
Irritated he could deal with.
“Hardly,” he scoffed, wishing things hadn’t gone so sideways between them tonight. He’d enjoyed their meal together. Appreciated that she’d confided in him. “I should be looking out for you because you’re someone important to Clay.” Which reminded him of what he really needed to discuss with her. “But I can promise you this. I will scour the internet for copies of that video so I can get them taken down and find the source of the original copy.”
That was always the sticking point in prosecuting digital harassment. But Quinton was nothing if not relentless. He would hunt down copies of that footage like the grim reaper hunting souls. At the mention of her harasser, the air in the car chilled between them.
“You really think you can do that?” she asked as Quinton turned out of the lot onto the main road along Margaret Bay.
“Without question.” Quinton didn’t normally brag about his tech skills, but McKenna’s tormentor had no idea who he’d crossed when he’d hurt this woman. The man would pay. “I can walk you through the channels to prosecute the bastard criminally, but with any luck we’ll gather enough evidence to make a civil case too.”
“I don’t know that I want to have it all brought up again.”
She retreated to the far side of the SUV, one shoulder pinned to the window as she slumped lower in the seat. Then, peering out her window, she asked, “I suppose you already know where I live?”
As much as he wanted to argue her indecision about bringing legal action against her harasser, Quinton didn’t want to push at a time when she might be a bit raw from what she’d already shared. Leaving it for now, he focused on the road as he answered her question.