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Her face went red hot, and she cursed the German heritage that made every emotion flare across her pale skin. “Nope.”
“Not a missionary girl? I can get down with that.” His voice dropped an octave, making her toes curl. “Maybe you’re down with some oral worshipping, if it’s not done by old Nick Cage.”
She broke out in goose bumps at the thought of sitting on Quinn’s face. No, no, no. She started to push him out of the way, but her hands got stuck somewhere around his pecs and she just ended up staring at him from an inch away. As much as she wanted to claim otherwise, all he’d have to do was lean down and kiss her, and she’d lose it. Her entire body hummed so hard it was a wonder she wasn’t vibrating. It wouldn’t take much. She wasn’t sure if she was ashamed of that or grateful for it. All he’d have to do was slip a hand into her jeans, one stroke, and she’d be there. She knew the signs well enough to know that.
But then he took one large step back, a strange look on his face. “You done in there?”
“What?” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “Uh, yeah.”
What was wrong with her? Quinn had been aggravating her like this since they met. Yes, it was a little more pointed since they’d gotten into his truck, but the truth was that he hadn’t changed the rules of the game. She was the one in danger of doing that. No wonder he’d stepped back and looked at her like she was crazy. She went from being ready to cut him to putting serious consideration into what a Quinn-spawned orgasm would feel like.
He doesn’t actually want to go there with me. He’s just being a dick and trying to make me uncomfortable—like he always does.
She had to remember that. If she threw herself at him in some mistaken conclusion she’d drawn, the humiliation might just kill her. She obviously needed some sexy alone time, because this was ridiculous. She marched down the gas station aisle, decided that a pack of gum probably wouldn’t poison her, and paid for it.
By the time Quinn reappeared and got back in the driver’s seat, she had control of herself. Mostly. Part of her wanted to apologize for making things weird back in the bathroom, but if she acknowledged it, he’d just make fun of her for thinking he might actually be serious about wanting her. Of course he didn’t want her. Quinn didn’t even like her.
For the first time, that thought actually bothered her a little.Chapter FiveQuinn climbed back into his truck with one thought driving him—he had to get them to San Diego so he could get the fuck away from Aubry long enough to clear his headspace. It had to be the heat, or the stress of the upcoming wedding, or maybe the faint sheen on her exposed skin that made him think filthy thoughts. Something. He’d known the woman for over a year now, and he’d spent more time that day imagining her naked than the previous three hundred and sixty-five days plus. He was out of control.
He checked the clock. Five hours and thirty minutes. That was how long it had taken her to get under his skin. It didn’t help that she’d stepped into him and given him that look. The one that said if he just made a move, she’d be a sure thing. In his wildest imagination, he never would have guessed he’d ever get the green light from Aubry Kaiser.
And he’d been half a breath from backing her into that filthy bathroom and bending her over the sink.
He started the truck without looking at her, but he couldn’t let the strange silence extend between them. It was too full of things that might be his imagination, and he had to put a stop to that shit right this second. “Look, about back there… When I make these jokes, I’m—”
“Not serious. Got it.”
He looked over, but she was staring out the passenger window, her entire body turned away from him, her arms wrapped around herself. As if he’d hurt her. Guilt tried to worm through him, but he smothered it with everything he had. He’d made no promises to Aubry, and he hadn’t been particularly mean since they started this trip. It wasn’t his fault she was looking into shit.
Except I’m looking into it.
He ignored that. “Things are—”
“For fuck’s sake, Quinn, stop. I don’t want you. My common sense was temporarily high-jacked by my hormones. It won’t happen again.”
He should be glad to hear that—it was what he wanted when he brought up the uncomfortable conversation to begin with—but the easy way she dismissed the attraction between them was like a splinter, poking and prodding at him. There was chemistry there. Maybe they were too smart to do anything about it, but it existed.
