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Nick kissed her, tasting her lips, teasing her mouth with his tongue. Her waist fit between his hands perfectly, and in the close confines of the truck cab, he was very aware of every motion of her body. She was warm and smelled like sugar cookies, and it was . . . pleasant.
It was always pleasant.
Not just with Quinn—with any girl. Not great, not electrifying, not earth-moving.
Pleasant.
When he was younger, he’d thought maybe it was a maturity thing. Gabriel had barely been thirteen when he started talking about boobs and p**n and whatever else he ran on at the mouth about. And of course he’d shared everything with Nick.
Nick hadn’t really cared. He’d pretended to care, because their parents were gone and he was so desperately terrified of losing anyone else, especially his twin, so he’d done everything he could to live up to his brothers’ expectations of him. He’d gone along with it, thinking that hormones would catch up at some point, that one day he’d wake up imagining cheerleaders soaping up in the shower or something.
He never did.
His imagination was perfectly content to feed him other ideas, however. Ideas that Nick shoved out of his head practically upon thinking them.
Ideas that would definitely drive a wedge between him and his brothers, if they knew.
So he kept dating girls, still hoping that one day he’d wake up with new ideas.
Sometimes he could get into it, could seek out bare skin with his hands and mouth, could let them half undress him and explore his body in the darkness. Like now, with everything cloaked in shadow and a tongue stroking his, a strong body pressing into him, fingers in his hair.
Nick made a small sound in his throat. Like this, he could pretend he was with—
Stop.
No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t pretend anything. He couldn’t even let himself think it. He shoved those thoughts from his brain and told that roulette wheel to keep f**king spinning and settle somewhere else.
Quinn must have felt the change in his body, the sudden tension, because she drew back. The inside of the truck was stifling hot. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
Everything. “Nothing. It’s just—nothing.” He paused, trying to breathe. Him! Fighting for air! And words. He choked on half of them. “Just—you don’t need to sleep with me if you want me to help you, Quinn.”
She went still. “You think I’m trying to sleep with you so I can get a place to stay?”
He gave her a look. Her hand was still on the button to his jeans, for god’s sake. “Aren’t you?”
She shoved herself off him and grabbed her bag.
Nick caught her arm. “Hey,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I’ll help you because I’m your friend.”
Friend. It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it instantly. She was still poised to shove the truck door open, but she looked at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were so striking, even bluer than his were. “Why don’t you want to sleep with me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Right now? Because we’re in a parking lot.”
“No,” she said quietly. “I mean, why don’t you want to sleep with me ever?”
Nick drew back and let go of her arm. He gave her his easy smile. “Maybe I’m a gentleman.”
Quinn didn’t smile back. “I know I’m not as hot as the girls you usually date, Nick.” She paused. “Are you just taking a break or something? Using me as a filler girlfriend so you have time to let the chafing heal?”
“Wow.” He dragged the word into three syllables.
“Or is this like a favor for Becca? Did Chris tell you to give me a little attention—”
“Are we seriously having this conversation?”
“No. Forget it—no.” Then she was out of the truck.
He was behind her in a heartbeat, trailing her up the steps. “Quinn. Stop. I don’t—”
