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“You liked her.” She came close enough to tap the paper so hard that it fell from his fingers and floated away. “You liked that. Andthatis notthis.” Her hand swept a scornful path over the front of her body.
“No, it’s definitely not.”
When her face darkened to the color of blood, Quinn realized what he’d said.
“I don’t want that kind of woman,” he blurted.
Lori stalked back to her bottle of wine and slammed back a shot of red. When she looked at him again, her face was calmer, but her eyes might have been a bit too shiny. “Stop being so nice, Quinn. Just stop. You dated her, so you liked her. I’m not a delicate flower. I appreciate what you were doing for me, but…I want a fling, not a handout. So, thanks, but I’m not a grenade you need to throw yourself on.”
“A grenade…?” Quinn shook his head, wondering again how this had all gone so wrong. He’d stayed up half the night reading. First the stories she’d suggested, then the rest of them, because what the hell. And he’d been looking forward to coming over and starting their little adventure. More than looking forward to it. He hadn’t been able to sleep, which wasn’t unusual. But he also hadn’t been able to concentrate on work, and that was a first. He’d wanted to rush the clock forward so he could come over here and give her what she wanted.
And now? Now it was off the rails, and if he hoped for any chance at all, he had to tell her the truth. The embarrassing truth.
So he did. “Tessa is not my type. I wasn’t really interested in her at all, but she was…persistent.”
Lori narrowed her eyes in clear doubt.
“She wanted to go out with me, I guess. Because one day I looked up and I was dating her.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes, it is. But at some point, I was distracted during a conversation and I said yes when she suggested dinner. Then I was on a date, and I couldn’t not be nice, and a few hours later we were in bed together.”
“Just like that?”
“Damn it, I know it sounds absurd, but this is my life, Lori. Absurdity. If you don’t pay attention to the world around you, you find yourself involved with…”
“Dream-Whore Barbie.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“No, it’s not. I’m not nice all the time, and it throws people off because I look like an elf.”
“A sexy elf,” Quinn said automatically, apparently surprising her, because Lori lost her frown and actually laughed.
“You sound like your sister.”
Her smile started a slow burn of relief that melted some of the ice from his muscles. “It honestly was an obligation. And she’s honestly not my type, Lori.”
“Ha!” She didn’t believe him, but at least she seemed to consider it a benevolent lie.
“So, truce?”
“Ah, screw it,” she muttered, reaching for the bottle. “Fine. Here’s to a truce.” She tipped it back and then offered him the wine.
Not wanting to be rude, and still a little dizzy from the whole strange encounter, Quinn took a drink, too. A long drink. More like chugging, actually. “Nice vintage,” he rasped, as he finally set it down. “Now I don’t suppose you’d care to explain the whole underwear-in-the-parking-lot aspect of this?”
She shrugged. “I just got out of the bath, and Ben happened to stop by at an unlucky moment.”
Unlucky. Right. Now that he finally had the time to focus completely on the picture she presented, Quinn was even more shaken. Her panties covered everything, but seemed somehow sexier for it. And her tank top…Well, it wasn’t made out of thick twill. The white cotton looked painted onto her small breasts. Her nipples pressed hard against the friction, and he could just make out the faint shadow of the darker skin of her areolas.
Speaking of shadows…Quinn let his gaze drift lower. No shadow, but his attention was drawn by the blue sparkle of something decorative winking from the front of her panties. He wasn’t close enough to make it out, but maybe he could get closer.
“I did my homework,” he murmured, and watched her jump a little at his words.
Her eyes flew to meet his. “Homework?”
“Yes.” There had been a clear common thread in the two stories she’d liked. Both heroes had been aggressive. Not rough, per se, but not the least bit tentative in getting what they wanted. On the drive over, Quinn had felt slightly nervous about that. Not that he considered himself passive, but he was always considerate in bed. Maybe even polite. But these stories weren’t about gentle encounters, they were about hard lust.
