Free Maximum Risk by Jennifer Lowery Page B

heaving. Quinn’s chin touched the top of her head, his chest rising and falling in sequence with hers. He still hadn’t put her down; her feet dangled off the ground. The way he held her, tucked against him, made her heart ache even more. Almost as if he couldn’t let her go.
    For just a moment she allowed herself to lean on him, letting him hold her close until it felt like they were fused. She didn’t analyze why she did it, or why he let her. Simply let it happen.
    Quinn tucked his head into her neck, voice gravelly, his breath hot on her skin. “Goddammit, Avery.”
    Mouth dry, she nodded her head in understanding. She didn’t need the words. What was done was done. She couldn’t take it back.
    Gently he set her feet on the floor and she winced. They stung like she stood on a bed of glass. Before she could guess his intention, Quinn swung her into his arms and carried her out of the room. She wrapped her arms around his neck, too worn out to fight. Her gaze followed his tanned neck to the strong line of his jaw. His profile was rigid, lines of fatigue bracketing his eyes. So much strength and so much pain. He wore his emotions inside like a warrior. She admired that after the spectacle she made of herself.
    Just as tenderly he deposited her on the sofa. Avery rested her head on a pillow and watched him stride into the bathroom and return with a First Aid kit. In silence he lifted her feet, sat on the opposite end and lowered them into his lap. The First Aid kit he opened and set on the arm of sofa.
    With utmost care, he removed her socks, then unwrapped the blood-soaked bandages from her feet and discarded them on the floor. Next, he cleaned the soles, his hand warm against her tender skin. Avery studied his profile as he treated her wounds, and regret knifed through her chest. In another time, another place, under different circumstances maybe they could have become friends. Lovers, even. A man like Quinn would definitely have turned her head if she passed him on the street. So different from Tim. Tim was classically handsome, where Quinn was more rugged. After that kiss they’d shared, she knew what she was missing and that only made it worse.
    Regret made her look away and stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the darkening sky. Maybe it would rain. Storms always calmed her. She stifled a yawn. The way Quinn’s hands cupped her feet made her sleepy. Her lids grew heavy.
    “How did you get here?” she murmured, remembering she took his truck.
    “Took a shortcut through the woods.”
    Giving in to exhaustion, she let her lids drop. “Did you borrow a car?”
    “I ran.”
    Her head lolled to the side as sleep gripped her. “Must be a fast runner.”
    His grunt made her smile as her limbs relaxed. A warm, humid breeze floated in through the open windows, caressing her skin. She hadn’t slept in days. Not for real. Catnaps in the room when her body shut down out of necessity. Pretending to sleep on the plane so no one would see her misery. The way she felt right now, wrung out and barely lucid, two straight days of uninterrupted slumber sounded like bliss.
    “I’m sorry I took your truck,” she murmured, slipping into sleep without hearing Quinn’s reply.

Chapter Six
     
    The ache in Dani Fitzpatrick’s heart would not subside. She didn’t want to think about her deceased fiancé and would strangle the next person who offered a shoulder to cry on. The Wolff brothers meant well, but the more they hovered the more she felt like screaming.
    Nate and Evan followed her home, making sure she didn’t drive her car into a tree or something crazy like that. In truth, the thought occurred to her as she pulled into the driveway of the house she and Ryan had waited a year to finish.
    She tapped the brakes to let the brothers know she was fine, watching them in the rearview mirror as they drove slowly past. They would patrol her house all night, checking on her without disturbing her, per her request. The