Page 22 of Alaskan Blackout
Too sated to concern herself how he’d known precisely what she was thinking, she laid her head against his chest while a log slipped in the fireplace, sending a shower of sparks onto the stones in front of the grate.
Loki had resettled on a far corner of the quilt on the floor, his little black-and-brown body curled into a ball. Freya remained on the back of the couch, unimpressed by the storm or the coupling, her long tail giving a slow swish as she licked a paw clean.
Tonight, while the storm raged outside, they were safe. At least the storm that had been brewing inside her had quieted.
For now.
Because McKenna knew that what they’d done just now changed everything between them. There would be no going back to the way things were. The thought sent a prickle through her like an omen.
Rattling her.
And if she felt unsettled about breaching the barrier that had been between them before, she could only imagine how Quinton was feeling when he’d been adamant about not touching her.
For now though? They had the whole night ahead of them before they had to grapple with what happened when the sun came up.
Seven
Quinton couldn’t sleep knowing he’d betrayed his half brother’s trust.
He lay awake staring at the living room ceiling, his fingers idly combing through McKenna’s hair as she slept. The storm outside had quieted shortly before dawn, but the blackout was still in effect as he tugged the blankets higher on them both. He’d only had one condom in his possession, so they’d found other creative ways to pleasure each other after that first incredible time.
He should be exhausted, but guilt kept him awake in the small hours of morning. The cat mewed quietly at having her corner of the blanket disturbed before resettling herself on a new section of the quilt. The calico tucked herself close to McKenna, casting Quinton a censorious look before closing her eyes again.
Clearly Quinton wasn’t the only one who saw himself as a villain. Before now, he had no cause for misgivings about facing Clayton when he found him. McKenna might believe that Clay wanted nothing to do with the Kingsley family, yet Quinton knew that he personally hadn’t done a damned thing to earn his sibling’s enmity.
Until tonight.
Had it been blindly self-indulgent of him to remain in Dutch Harbor all this time, knowing the tremendous draw he felt toward McKenna? Probably. And no matter how much he wanted a repeat of the night they’d shared—many, many repeats—he couldn’t allow himself to remain in a situation that would only tempt him again and again.
Since McKenna had no intention of revealing Clay’s whereabouts anyhow, it was a fool’s errand to remain in town. Yet, without a concrete lead for where to search next for his brother, what choice did he have but to stay put? Up until now, Quinton had resisted utilizing his digital skills to locate Clay, knowing those methods skirted ethical boundaries. But were they any worse than touching Clay’s stepsister?
He would hole up in his hotel room and get to work on his computer to find his brother. Right after he found the scumbag who’d posted the video of McKenna. Quinton had narrowed the search considerably the night before. A few more dedicated hours and he’d locate the bastard. There’d be no leaving this town until he at least put that situation right for this woman.
Gently, he smoothed a long lock of copper hair between his fingertips, admiring the color in the dim firelight. He couldn’t imagine how he’d ever say goodbye to her after what they’d shared. A fact that made it all the more imperative he leave soon.
A light clicked on overhead, momentarily blinding him.
Loki woke up to bark twice, tail thumping expectantly. McKenna stirred next to him.
“The power is back on,” she murmured sleepily, closing her eyes tighter against the sudden glare.
“I’ll shut the lights off,” Quinton assured her, sliding out from under the blankets to tug on his pants. “I’m going to take a look around outside to make sure there’s no serious damage done.”
By the time he plucked his shirt from the couch, he noticed McKenna watching him.
“I’m going with you.” She slipped from the covers and rose to her feet.
Quinton told himself to avert his gaze but didn’t fully manage the task until she wrapped the red jersey dress around her body. Walking away from this woman wouldn’t be easy.
Frustrated at his lack of restraint, he headed toward the side door he’d noticed in the kitchen earlier, grabbing one of the flashlights left out on the island during the blackout.
She padded close behind him, pausing to step into a pair of waterproof boots by the back door while she took a dog leash from a hook on the wall. “There’s a pair of Clay’s boots in the closet that might fit you—”
“No. Thank you.” He answered abruptly, and more harshly than he’d intended. He stopped himself when he spied the surprise on her face. “That is, my brother already thinks ill of me for reasons I don’t understand. I’m not here to take anything that belongs to him.”
She seemed as if she might speak, and the last thing he wanted was to invite more talk of his brother with all this guilt hanging in the air. Reaching for the door handle, he turned the knob to exit just as the first rays of light were streaking over the horizon. The rays painted the wet grass a damp rose-colored hue.
“Oh no.” McKenna’s murmured words caught his attention as she stepped out of doors behind him, her gaze focused upward on the house. “Some of the siding came off.”