The Hunt

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.

She reached down, trying to draw him up to her mouth where she could sink into him, become one with him. Instead, he parted her legs and used his thumbs to rub small circles everywhere but there, the one place she needed him.

“Quinn, I’m ready.”

She moaned and arched her back.

“I know,” he murmured, but did nothing to speed up his foreplay.

It was as if he wanted to get to know her all over again. He’d spent so much time in the past touching, holding, petting every inch of her skin. She’d missed the attention, both the sweet affection and the hot passion. As Quinn explored her body, the memories of everything that had been right between them flooded back. How he had not only accepted her flawed body, but helped her learn to love herself again. He made her comfortable in her own skin.

His mouth drew closer, closer… she arched in anticipation. He didn’t disappoint. As soon as his mouth clamped down on her mound, she orgasmed. A hot, fast purging that had her gasping for air. His hands stroked her thighs, her back, taking her up, then easing her back.

He kissed her inner thighs, her navel, her stomach, her breasts, all the way to her neck.

She rolled over with him so she straddled him.

“What?” he asked, his wicked grin illuminated by the glow of the desk lamp. But his light manner was betrayed by his hard body trembling beneath her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

I need him.

She pushed her needs aside. She didn’t know what would happen after tonight. She didn’t want to think about the sunrise and the stark light of reality it would bring. She didn’t want to think of Quinn leaving again, of going back to being alone. Without him.

Seize the time they had now. Embrace rediscovering a small part of what they’d shared in the past. Pretend nothing had happened in the last ten years to keep them apart.

She kissed him, her hands running over his skin as he had touched her. He held her close, their bodies molding together. She slid down, out of his arms, and pulled off his sweats. This was what she wanted. A complete union.

Quinn’s patience was drawing to a close. He wanted to make love to Miranda in the worst way. Where sex and love merged. He watched her in the dim light, her long, dark hair falling in front of her face, looking like a wild woman with large, luminous eyes. His satisfaction at having given her pleasure quickly turned to urgency, and he moaned as she reached between his legs and squeezed.

“Wait,” he said. He didn’t want to lose it too soon. He had wanted to make love to her, hold her. Take it nice and slow. But the way she held him, slow was the furthest thing from his mind.