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“Truth or dare?” he suddenly asks me.
God, I want this to be real. I want this to be real so badly I can’t think straight, and that scares the hell out of me. So I keep making excuses, and I’m still riding the “pretend” train, because if it’s pretend, it won’t matter if it all goes away. It won’t hurt as much if it all ends, because it wasn’t real anyway.
“Truth.”
Just like in my parents’ driveway, Quinn’s head jerks back a little at my response, making me laugh.
“Like I’m really going to make it easy on you.” I smile at him, uncrossing my arms and bringing them down to my sides to slide my hands behind me, between my lower back and the wall.
The move pushes my boobs up even more with the corset-style top of this dress, and heat spreads through my body when Quinn’s eyes narrow on my cleavage before they move up to my face, a knowing look in his eyes that tells me he just might be on to me.
“Worst date you’ve ever been on.”
“Does this one get added to my long list of choices?” I inquire with a serious look on my face.
“Cute. You know this is the best date you’ve ever been on,” he says with a cocky grin.
And I don’t even argue, because he’s right. Fake date and sexual frustration aside, this is the best night I’ve ever had in my life, and it’s not even over yet.
“Easy. The panty sniffer from two years ago,” I quickly reply.
“This doesn’t sound like it’s going to end well….” He trails off, making me laugh.
“He was a cousin of one of the Vipers cheerleaders. We went on a few dates; they were pretty nice, so I invited him back to my apartment for dinner and a movie,” I explain, Quinn’s eyes staring at my mouth the entire time I talk, making my breath come out a little faster. “He excused himself during the movie to go to the bathroom. When he didn’t come back after twenty minutes, I found him in my bedroom, sniffing all of my underwear.”
“Oh God,” Quinn mutters with a grimace.
“That wasn’t even the worst part.” I laugh at his horrified expression. “When I told him to get the hell out, he asked if he could take a few pairs with him.”
“On behalf of the un-creepy men out there, I’d like to take a moment to apologize to all women everywhere.”
“What about you?” I nod to him. “Worst date you’ve ever been on.”
“Uh, all of them.” Quinn shrugs, making my heart clench a little. “I don’t really have normal dates in my line of work. A lot of nut jobs seem to find me. And a lot of women who just want something from me or want to use me to get something else. Until you came along and made me chase you.”
Now my heart full-on tries to beat its way out of my chest, but I do my best to ignore it.
“Too bad we’re not really dating,” I remind him.
The casualness in Quinn is gone in a split second. His eyes are no longer sparkling with humor as he yanks his hands out of his pockets when he pushes away from the wall, taking a step toward me and holding one of his hands out to me.
“Dance with me.”
“What?” I laugh, looking around the empty locker room like I’m suddenly expecting it to be filled with people we need to pretend for.
“Come on, dance with me,” he urges, as the muffled sounds of the orchestra can be heard through the walls when they start playing “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak. A little bit of the sparkle comes back into his eyes, and an easy smile takes over his face, while my throat gets tight with emotion, wondering if he has any earthly idea how fitting this song is right now. “My dad always asked my mom to dance whenever they were fighting, because he said it’s hard to be mad at someone when you’re holding them close.”
“I didn’t realize we were fighting.” I reply with a grin, removing my hands from behind my back and sliding one of them into his.
“I always feel like you’re one second away from punching me in the dick, so I figured I’d just be safe.”
Our soft laughter mingles in the quiet room with the muted strains of the violins, cellos, and bass, as he wraps his hand around mine, tugging me away from the wall with a little jerk, and right up against him. My free hand flies up to his shoulder, and I forget how to breathe when I can feel every hard inch of him pressing into me.
Every. Hard. Inch.
Including the ones currently poking me, definitely confirming the want is there on both sides.
Bringing our joined hands up to rest over his heart, Quinn slides his other hand over my hip and around my waist, making my breath hitch when he tugs me tighter against him, his arm remaining securely around me to keep me pressed snuggly into him. Neither one of us moves or acknowledges the elephant in the room. Or should I say, the giant elephant trunk in the room that Quinn is packing between his legs, making my brain fizzle out and a quiet hum fill my ears, drowning out any rational thought I have left.
