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Neither of us mentions that we’ll have to stop doing this as soon as we get there.

We park, and I grab my bag from the trunk while Quinn waits beside the car.

“Give me a few minutes before you come in,” she says.

“Okay.”

She doesn’t move.

Neither do I.

A few hours ago, she was naked in my bed. Now we’re about to walk into an airport and pretend we barely know each other.

Fuck that.

I drop my bag and catch her around the waist.

“Wyatt.”

I kiss her before she can tell me why this is a terrible idea.

When I pull back, her hands are still resting against my chest.

“Have a good trip.”

“I will.”

“And be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

She gives me a look.

“Fine. I’ll try.”

“That I believe.”

I kiss her once more, because apparently I have no self-control after all, then force myself to step back.

“Go.”

She starts toward the terminal, then turns around after a few steps. I’m still watching her.

Her eyes narrow in warning.

I lift both hands innocently. Like, Okay, okay.

And I know she’s right. I really do need to work on my face. I’m pretty sure I’ve been walking around with some head-over-heels expression plastered across it all morning, with a healthy dose of post-sex bliss mixed in.

She shakes her head and keeps walking.

By the time I reach the gate, Quinn is already with her dad.

“Hi, Dad.”

Brennan looks genuinely surprised to see her. “Quinn. What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you off.”