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There’s another knock at the door. “Quinn? I know you’re in there. You’re always home. No matter how many times I’ve tried to fill your social calendar.”
Desmond’s amusement fades, his dark brows drawing together. “Don’t answer.”
“I have to,” I whisper back, wringing my hands. “She won’t give up.”
He stands, zipping himself back into his pants. “It sounds like she just wants to be let in so she can make you feel shitty about yourself.”
“You’re not wrong.”
I’m cemented to the spot as he makes his way toward me, his hand lifting to cup my cheek. “How did you feel when we were on the bed together?”
“Confident,” I whisper.
He nods, his attention dipping to my mouth. “And now?”
“Not.”
Irritation ripples across his expression, though I know it’s not directed at me. No, he’s vexed on my behalf and that feels…wonderful. To have an ally. “Pack,” Desmond says, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Whatever makes you feel sexy. Preferably something I can take off fast.” With that, he turns on a heel and starts to leave my bedroom. Before he walks out, he turns with a hand on the doorjamb. “You trust me, sweetheart?”
I only hesitate a second. “Yes.”
But I never could have imagined what happens next. I watch through a crack as Desmond opens my front door, shocking my mother so handily, she literally clutches her pearls. “Who, might I ask, are you?”
“Desmond,” he says, a grin in his voice. “You must be Quinn’s mother.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Nice to meet you.” Briefly, he looks back at me over his shoulder, as if trying to determine whether or not I’m listening. Then he turns back to my mother, saying quietly, “About Quinn’s social calendar? Consider it full. Permanently.”
The door closes on her stunned face.
By the time Desmond reenters the bedroom, I’ve hidden my blooming smile and started packing. I know Desmond didn’t necessarily mean he would be taking up my social calendar for the foreseeable future. After all, he readily agreed to give me lessons so I could attract other men, didn’t he?
A twinge catches me in the throat.
Either way, I will owe him forever for standing up for me.
And we still have tonight, don’t we?
Could it ever be enough?
5
Desmond
I’m in deep.
God help me if I can’t convince Quinn to love me, because I can’t imagine the world continuing to turn without her smile in my life, lighting it up. Her voice, her scent. Her vulnerable yet observant eyes.
That body.
We’re in the back of an Uber now, headed to Queens, and I have to bite my fist to keep from groaning out loud. Back in her bedroom, I really only meant to show Quinn how hard she makes me, but as soon as I saw that pussy, I turned into a fiend. There was one objective in my life—getting off before the lust she inspired made me black out.
I’m a firefighter. We’re supposed to be disciplined. We’re cool headed and possess a legendary self control, but I definitely just pulled down her lily white panties and humped her until I couldn’t see straight. I’m surprised she still agreed to come spend the night with me after the lack of control I showed her, but hell am I grateful.
I’ll go slow and do things right next time.
Thank God there’s a next time.
Out of the corner of my eye, I observe Quinn, trying to get a read on her. But I can’t. Is this really just a lesson to her? Or is she experiencing even an ounce of the attraction I’ve had going on since the beginning?
Just thinking of the possibility that she’s really only using me as a stepping stone makes my chest tighten up and I have to breathe through my nose.
Don’t mess this up.
She might be too upper crust for a man like me, but if she gives me a shot, I’ll treat her better than any prick in a monkey suit could. I’ll worship her with every breath.
It’s getting dark now and with the city lights in our rearview, Queens spreads out before us, lively in its own right, but less frenetic than Manhattan. Judging we’re about five minutes from my house, I reach over and thread our fingers together on the seat and she glances down, startled. “This okay?”
She ducks her head a little and nods, pressing her lips together to hide a smile. “Sure.” A thought seems to occur to her and she sucks in a breath. “What about your sisters? Did we leave them behind?”
“Don’t worry, I texted them to let them know we’re headed to Bayside. They’ll take the train home when the shoe stores kick them out.”
Quinn settles back once more against the seat. “So why did they nominate you for the baking show?” Her eyes sparkle. “Are you a mean brother?”
I act wounded. “Do I seem mean?”
