Forbidden Men Book 4: With Every Heartbeat

The party was completely out of control. Thumping loud music, alcohol in every hand, topless girls in the hot tub outside, and more of them booty-grinding on the coffee table indoors. If I’d been wearing pearls, I would’ve clutched those bad boys for dear life as I stood in the doorway, gaping at the sight before me.

“Out of the way!” a voice bellowed behind me. “Coming through.”

I turned just in time to see a silver keg barreling directly for me. With a squeak, I dove to the side and fully into the frat house, barely saving my piggies hanging out the front of my sandals from being smashed. The pair of drunk guys pushing the beer inside on a dolly leered at me, offering me a drink if I agreed to flash them. I respectfully declined, and they shrugged, moving on and disappearing into the rowdy horde.

Clutching my imaginary pearls, I gulped heavily. What the heck was I doing? After living eighteen years under the strict dictatorship of my father, I’d never seen anyone drinking spirits before, much less getting wasted from them, as pretty much everyone around me was. Heck, we even took grape juice during Communion at the church we attended because wine was forbidden in my little world.

After I’d called her from the track phone she’d sent me and told her I was in town, Cora had instructed me to meet her at this address. And I was sure it was this address; I’d double, triple and quadruple checked.

The back. She might as well have told me to meet her at the end of a dark, creepy alley of a ghetto where homeless bums were scurrying through trash and thugs were dealing drugs, and oh, Holy Hosanna, was that guy smoking a joint? I didn’t know the difference between a real cigarette and...well, whatever that thin, short thing was hanging out of his mouth, but it certainly didn’t smell like regular nicotine tobacco wafting my way.

Welcome to college, Zoey.

Had I mentioned I was so out of my freaking element?

Grabbing a piece of my blonde hair and trying not to appear as awkward and scared as I felt, I wound the comforting lock around my finger and stepped forward, determined to do this. But a startling cheer from the crowd as a guy jumped onto the coffee table to dance with the topless girls had me hunching my shoulders and bolting toward the first doorway I saw, hoping it led to “the back.”

My heart pounded, and I felt so inept because everyone around me was having fun. No one was scared out of their mind, no one looked as if they could burst into tears any second just because they were here, and no one seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating. The jealousy bug nipped hard. I kind of wished I could be as uninhibited and free-spirited as all these people.

Focusing on the anger I felt at myself for being such coward, I used the heat behind that to propel myself forward. I could do this.

The next room I entered was thankfully mellower than the first. No dancing, no music, no nakedness. But it was still just as crowded, if not more so. Lots of people clumped into groups, talking. Most of them were male, which brought up another irrational trepidation I had. After being homeschooled through the first eight grades, I hadn’t been around much of the opposite gender, at least not many who were my age. My father had made sure to keep me away from boys. So seeing this many of them, everywhere I turned, was a little unnerving. My limbs heated and face flushed. I was certainly going to be attending college with a lot of hotties.

Already knowing I wasn’t going to find Cora in this room, I started to turn but stopped cold when I did recognize one face, like the supreme hottie of all hotties.

Cora was an avid Facebooker. She posted pictures and updates constantly. So I was well aware of what her boyfriend looked like. I’d been bowled over the first time I’d seen his snapshot pop up on her page three months ago. Quinn Hamilton was perfect in the looks department—like ridiculously, flawlessly perfect. I couldn’t believe my best friend had been able to snag a complete dreamboat like him.

Not that she didn’t deserve someone gorgeous or wasn’t good enough to catch a hunk. She was beautiful and way more outgoing than me. She could probably get any guy she wanted. But Quinn Hamilton had just seemed like movie-star pretty, completely untouchable to regular non-movie-star citizens like us. Even as he stood among a throng of attractive, drunk college guys and sipped from a red SOLO cup, he managed to shine above them all.

It didn’t seem possible, but he was even better looking in person. Grainy pictures online so did not do him justice. I stared a moment longer because, well...art was meant to be appreciated, and he was a masterpiece.

After maybe a bit too much appreciation, I finally scanned the faces around him, hoping Cora might be near. But I didn’t find her anywhere.

I knew I should approach him since he was the best chance I had of locating my best friend, but going anywhere near such perfection felt utterly forbidden.

I’d have to meet him eventually, sure; he was Cora’s boyfriend. But I wasn’t ready yet, mostly because he’d just smiled at something someone was telling him. The skin around his eyes crinkled with genuine warmth, his lips lifted into the most attractive demeanor, while his entire complexion just...brightened. And yeah, I couldn’t do it.

I turned to find the exit behind me, only to discover it was blocked. Fear and a bit of claustrophobia clutched my throat, making it suddenly hard to breathe. I needed to get out of this house. The sooner I found Cora, the better.

Okay, fine. I’d meet the boyfriend, then. I could do that. Sure.

I started toward Quinn Hamilton just as the guy talking to him pulled up his phone and showed the screen to Quinn. I was only a few feet away now; one more step and I’d be close enough to reach out and tap him on the shoulder—holy Lord, could I actually summon the nerve to touch those thick, amazingly formed shoulders?

But the curious smile lighting his face dropped as soon as he looked at the phone.

I stumbled to a halt as his eyes went flint hard and narrowed on his friend. His lips were tight as he said something in a low growl I couldn’t hear. The other guy threw back his head and laughed as if it was the funniest comment in the world. But Quinn dropped his drink—yeah, right on the floor—splattering...what was that—water?—all over his shoes. Then he grabbed two fistfuls of the other man’s shirt and propelled him backward, right through a crowd of people until he had his opponent pinned to the wall with the guy’s shoes dangling a good foot above the floor.

Holy—

The skin pulled taut over his hard jaw as he glared at the man he was holding captive, letting everyone know he wasn’t kidding around.

The room went hushed, and every eye turned toward them. I shrank a step back, not sure what to do or where to hide. While all my duck-and-cover instincts flared to life, someone came shoving through people and right past me, hollering, “Hey, hey, hey! What the fuck is going on?”

When the newcomer reached Quinn, he tugged him away from the other guy, who gratefully slid to the floor and made a production of gasping for breath and straightening his shirt.

“Get his phone,” Quinn commanded the man who’d so easily been able to pull him out of a fight.

Without question, his friend snatched the phone from the guy who was still patting himself down.

The new guy’s face drained of color before he sent Quinn a grimace. “Shit,” he muttered. His thumb punched the screen a few times before he shoved it back at its owner.

The owner scowled. “Hey! You deleted it.”

“Hey! Douche nozzle,” Quinn’s friend shot back, imitating the phone owner’s insulted tone. “You shouldn’t have had it in the first place. Where did you get it, and who the fuck else did you show it to? Did you send it to anyone?”

“Why do you care? Or were you the one banging her?”

“Oh, I’m going to bang you, buddy.” This time it was Quinn’s friend, not Quinn, who grabbed two handfuls of shirt and shoved the phone owner against the wall. “I’m going to bang your fucking head against this fucking wall if you don’t answer my fucking questions.”

That was probably more f-bombs than I’d heard in my entire life. To have them assault my stunned ears all in one breath left them ringing. Frozen to the spot, I clutched my own shirt with two handfuls and watched as Quinn gripped his friend’s shoulder and tried to tug him back.

“Enough. The picture’s gone. It’s over.”

But his friend wasn’t as easy to bring to heel as he’d been. Keeping his stare on the phone owner who was struggling to break loose, he sneered. “The fuck if it’s over. Little prick here needs to learn some manners.”

“Fuck you,” Little Prick answered. Then he spit in his captor’s face.

I swallowed, knowing exactly what was going to happen next. And yep, Quinn’s friend turned a hot, angry red. “Oh, you’re dead.” Then he wound back his arm, his hand already balled into a fist. I winced, bracing for the punch, even though it wasn’t aimed at me. I knew how much they hurt.

But Quinn intercepted this one, catching it in his palm.

“What the hell?” his friend started as Quinn let go of the fist to wrap a single arm around his waist and lift him off the floor.

Oh, wow. He was strong. His rowdy friend was by no means little, but Quinn didn’t even break a sweat as he carried the cursing guy under his arm toward an exit in the back of the room. As soon they disappeared out the door, everyone started gossiping. The spitting phone owner began talking big about how he would’ve won the fight, while I just stood there, petrified.

I wanted out of this place so bad. And the only person whom I knew could help me find Cora had just walked out the door.

Deciding that staying here a minute longer was more intimidating than Quinn Hamilton, I raced after him. When I found myself in a quiet, dark backyard, I paused, but I heard familiar muttering so I didn’t retreat into the house.

“Why the fuck did you stop me, Ham? That little dipshit deserved to get the piss kicked out of him.”

I might’ve only heard him say a few words inside the frat house, but I immediately recognized Quinn’s voice as he answered. “Coach said you’d get kicked off the team if you got into another fight.”

I shook my head, amazed by the guy who’d gone from cussing Quinn to complimenting him in one long, run-on sentence. Quinn seemed similarly amused. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but he gave a small laugh and shook his head. “Um...thank you?” he said as if not certain whether he was being praised or insulted.

He had a nice laugh. Nice smile, too. Very nice backside. Not that I was looking...much.

Under his pretty face and intimidatingly hulking physique, however, I wondered exactly what kind of person my best friend had attached herself to. He’d been so quick to shove that other guy into a wall. I prayed Cora hadn’t found a violent man. That was one thing I wouldn’t be able to handle.

Then again, he’d been just as quick to settle down, and he’d even stopped his friend from taking the argument to the next level. Actually, he’d seemed more protective than hostile. Made me wonder what kind of picture had been on that phone.

“Can we help you with something, sweetheart?”

I jumped at the question, realizing Quinn’s friend had spotted me spying on them. My mouth went dry. It was now or never time.

With a small clearing of my throat, I nodded. “I...I’m sorry. I was just...I was looking for Cora.”

Hearing her name, Quinn turned.

And looked directly at me.

His blue-eyed gaze froze me. I felt like the guy he’d shoved against the wall: held captive in his grip and unable to break free. Then he blinked a pair of overly long dark lashes. Every organ inside me seemed to ignite into flames. My skin prickled and my flight-or-fight instinct kicked in, making me think my reaction to him was fear. But I’d never felt a tightening deep in my stomach when I’d been scared before. This was...I don’t even know.

My body didn’t seem to know what the heck was wrong with me, either, so it rebelled against the overwhelming foreign sensation, making my breath quicken and my fingers and toes tingle.

“I...” Smoothing some hair behind my ear, I gaped back at Quinn Hamilton. “I’m sorry for interrupting. I know you don’t know me. But I’ve seen pictures of you, so I knew who you were, and I thought you could help me. But, I...” I tried to apologize again as I backed toward the doorway, except the words stuck in my throat. “I’m...”

“Zoey,” Quinn said softly, as if finishing my sentence for me. And, oh my word. Hearing my name come from his mouth set off all kinds of tingling and tummy tightening inside me.

Yep. I was in big trouble.

“I’ve seen pictures of you, too.” A soft smile lit his face as he started toward me. “Cora’s inside.”

I tripped in reverse as he came closer, my eyes going wide.

My behavior caused him to jerk to a halt. His mouth opened and apology entered his gaze, but he said nothing. He cleared his throat and pointed toward the back door of the frat house. “I can...I’ll show you where she is.”

Nodding my compliance, I stayed mute as shame flooded my limbs. The guy had only been trying to be nice and help me out, and I’d been shying away from him as if he were an ax-murderer.

He moved around me, purposely giving me a wide berth, and opened the back door, only to step aside to let me enter first. I drew in a breath and skipped up onto the small back steps, coming close enough to him that I could immediately notice how incredible he smelled. Clean and male with a subtle hint of spice.

“Thank you,” I started to say, but his friend broke in, calling after us.

“Hey!” I turned in time to see him waving his hands. “What the hell, man?”

“I heard that,” Ten said, setting his hands on his hips. “If you leave now, who’s going to talk me out of kicking Belcher’s ass?”

Quinn frowned and glanced at me before turning his attention to Ten. “Can’t you talk yourself out it?”

“Probably not.”

Sighing, Quinn motioned me to go ahead and enter the house with a tip of his head. “Don’t worry. He’ll talk himself out of it,” he assured me.