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“It’s just so…”
“Fake?”
She nods. “I prefer something more…”
“Artistic?”
“Yeah. That’s a good way to put it. Makes me sound pretentious, but yeah.”
“You aren’t?”
“If this is about Casablanca—”
“It’s not.”
“Because it’s a highly entertaining film.”
“I believe you.”
She finishes her wine. Stares at the empty glass like she’s not sure where her drink went. “There’s not much I can teach you, Wes, but I will teach you about Casablanca.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “I’ll bring it next time. We can watch together.”
“Shit, you sure I’m ready for that?”
“You’re right. We don’t start with the climax. We work up to it.”
“So you’re bringing—”
“I’ll make a syllabus.” She holds up her hands like she’s drawing a marquee. “Classic Cinema 101.” She takes another bite into her mouth. Chews. Swallows. “You’re um, you really are good. I said that, huh?”
“Yeah, but I appreciate hearing it again.”
“So… what types of movies do you watch?”
“Besides Mission Impossible?”
She sticks out her tongue. “No offense.”
“You’re the one missing out.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Have you seen any?”
“No, but—”
“I won’t create an entire lesson plan. Just one action packed spy movie.”
Her nose scrunches in distaste. “I don’t know.”
“You trust me?”
“Yeah, but there’s trusting you and trusting you.”
“It’s only two hours.” I hold out my hand for a pinkie promise.
“Okay. Deal.” She wraps her pinkie around mine.
Her shoulders ease as she settles into her seat.
I keep the conversation light. Talk about movies. About the ones she loves.
She relaxes enough to gush.
Until we finish dinner.
She goes to the bathroom.
Then straight to the bedroom.
She leaves the door open a crack.
For me.
She thinks she isn’t skilled, but, fuck, that’s the smoothest thing I’ve seen in ages.
“So.” Quinn presses her palms into the soft red fabric of her dress. “This is your bedroom.”
Her innocent expression is irresistible.
I want to push that dress to her waist and dive between her legs.
I want to taste every inch of her sweet cunt.
I want to make her come so hard she wakes the neighbors.
“You like it?” I slide my hands into the pockets of my jeans. I need to slow down.
She’s new and nervous and she’s trusting me to lead her.
I can’t think with my cock.
No matter how much I want to bury myself inside her.
“I do.” She takes in the powder blue walls. The sleek white desk and dresser. The framed art hanging on the walls.
I flick the switch. Turn the main lights off and the string lights on.
Quinn lets out a soft gasp. She looks around the room like it’s something out of her favorite movie.
I felt the same way when I first moved in.
But after three years of empty sex—
It screams at me: you think this is better than drowning yourself in booze?
I swallow hard.
Yeah, I should sort out the shit that’s been going through my head.
But not right now.
Not with Quinn ready and waiting.
She presses her palms into her thighs. “We haven’t talked about exclusivity.”
“I assumed that was part of the deal.”
“Oh. Good.” She turns to me. “What do you think we’ll do tonight?”
“Come here.” I pat the spot on the bed next to me.
She smooths her dress as she takes a seat.
“That doesn’t work.”
“What doesn’t?”
Her fingers trace the hem of her dress.
“No planning here.”
“But…” She catches herself playing with her dress. Presses her hands into the soft grey bedspread.
I brush her hair behind her ear. “No but, angel. We take this one moment at a time.”
She nods okay, but that doesn’t ease the apprehension in her eyes.
She’s nervous.
I get that.
And I can fix it.
Her hand goes to my chest. She pulls my t-shirt down enough to reveal my tattoo. “Did you always want that?”
“Want what?”
“To be a tattoo artist?”
I study her expression. Is she trying to get to know me? To slow down? To prove a point?
I don’t know.
But talking can’t hurt.
I sure as hell like talking to her.
“No.” My eyelids flutter closed as her fingers brush my skin. “When Chase got Hunter a job as an apprentice, they made it clear it was their thing. That I was supposed to stick with school.”
“And you couldn’t stand that?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Sometimes.” Her eyes meet mine. “You love them a lot, huh?”
“They’re okay.” I mean to make it playful, but there’s something missing. I love my brothers. I’d do anything for them. But shit is strained. It’s been strained a long time.
“You’ve worked with them your entire adult life.”
“So I can give them shit.”
“Maybe.” Her fingers curl into my skin. “Or maybe you care more than you let on.”
Not having this conversation now. “I do care.”
“Yeah?”
“About making you come.”
Her breath catches in her throat.
For a split second, she freezes.
Then she blinks. Moves. Nods. “Is that what we’re—”
“I told you, Quinn. You can’t plan this.” I shift onto the bed. Behind her. Then I slide my legs around her.
She sighs as I wrap my arms around her waist.
“This okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Fuck, she’s so polite.
