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The waitress brings water to the table and I grab my glass, the cold a shock to my system as I swallow it down.
Quinn removes his hand from my thigh, but his leg is still pressed up against mine and I scoot a little to the right. Needing space so I can think clearly.
I shouldn’t have held his hand, or let him run his hands over my chest. Or press his cock against mine.
So fucking inappropriate.
“What are you going to order?” he asks me, his eyes on the menu, his fingers fiddling with the corners.
“Dunno,” I say, clearing my throat.
“Want to share something? We could each pick something weird and try it?”
I nod my head, twisting my glass, moving it around on the tabletop. Despite not wanting to, I should have stayed at the Soo with Robert and Tattletale. At least it would have been safer with him. But I’d been drawn away by Quinn, by my heart hammering in my chest. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to escape with him.
But now that I’m here, I’m second-guessing myself, second-guessing my decisions.
“What’s that look for?” he asks, having placed an order with the waitress while I’ve been preoccupied with my thoughts.
I shrug.
“Do you really want me to move to the other side of the booth, Grey? Because I will. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
I meet his stare, those dark emerald eyes, and feel myself melt.
“Probably for the best. Robert isn’t here. So, no need to pretend anymore.”
I don’t mention how we held hands in the truck on the way here, but I digress.
He sighs, moving out from beside me and sitting on the other bench. Our knees knock but I don’t shift to break contact. I kind of miss him next to me, to be honest. God, what is wrong with me?
What the fuck am I doing?
I am playing with fire. And let me tell you, I’ve been burned one too many times, and yet, here I am again. Doing stupid shit. I obviously haven’t learned my lesson.
“Grey,” Quinn says, and my eyes swivel to meet his. He pulls his upper lip between his teeth, and I am riveted.
“Yeah?” I breathe.
That lip pops out, wet and red. “It doesn’t need to be weird.”
I shift in my seat. “Nothing’s weird.”
He purses his lips and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re acting weird, so just stop it,” he says lightly.
I toss some ice into my mouth and chew on it loudly. “Yeah. Okay.”
“It was just holding hands, it’s not like I bent you over.”
The ice slides down my throat and lodges, burning, and I thump at my chest, trying not to die. Thank fuck it melts and slides down a moment later, and I inhale deeply.
“Jesus, Quinn.”
He smirks, like it’s fucking funny, and I reach into my glass, fishing out an ice cube, and chuck it at him. It hits his chest and falls to his lap.
His eyes positively twinkle. “Oh, Greyson,” he says so softly that my cock perks up and takes notice. The way my name rumbles from his throat is sinful.
“Do it again and see what happens,” he dares me. My fingers slip into the glass, closing around a freezing cube, and I hold it between my fingers.
