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Oh. She glanced down.
Well, yeah. Her bras tended to be of the “sports” variety, and, yes, Beckett could now categorizehernipples, too. Other than the color, because he wouldn’t know that, but she was getting the feeling that he’d like to. She got an image of his big hand there, then his mouth moving over her, hungry and lazy at the same time and like he wanted to stay there for a long, long time, and shivered.
Roxanne said, “So youaregetting dirty with him. How did I know? Did you get any of Lily’s lingerie? Does that stuff really work?”
“Shhh! Somebody’s going to hear you! Of course I’m not, and how would I know? I own exactly one set of that stuff, and only because Martin forced me. It cost more than a hundred bucks!”
Roxanne said, “I need to know if it’s worth it, but boy, does he look like it’d be worth it. Or don’t you wanthim?I’dwant him. When he took off his shirt …”
Quinn said, much more loudly, “You know what? I’ll dry Bacon off.” Since he was, naturally, barking. “Thanks so much for your help! I’ll bring Violet home tomorrow on my way to my swim class, how’s that?” After which she headed to the front door and shoved it open, causing the shivering to start in earnest and giving Roxanne no choice but to follow her.
“Fine,” Roxanne said. “Be that way. Just one question.”
“What?” Quinn squinted at her with suspicion.
“What the hell are you waiting for?”
* * *
Sometime after eight-thirty,Beckett sat down on the couch again and leaned back with a sigh.
“How’d it go?” Quinn asked. “The girls OK up there? They’ll probably stay up for hours talking, you know, and be grouchy tomorrow.” She was crouched down beside the wood stove, having just shoved another chunk of wood into the little door at the side.
“Good to know,” he said, then realized. “You refilled the firewood carrier. You could consider my ego.”
“I could,” she said, “but I’ve been trying to do that all week, and I’ve decided it’s too hard.”
For some reason, he was smiling. “Isthatit. I wondered. Also, want another beer, since it’s Friday night, and we’re camping?”
“I always take a bottle of wine on my camping trips,” she said. “I’ll grab you a beer, though.”
She stood up to do it, and he put on some speed and beat her to the kitchen. “What did I just say?”
“Oh.” She waved a hand. “Go for it, then. There’s a Cabernet in the—"
“You seem to have forgotten,” he said, “that I live here, too.”
“Excuse me? How do you know which Cab I want?” She had her hands on her hips now. She was in the faded, snug jeans that were his favorites, and was wearing a black turtleneck and heavy cardigan with them, as theydidhave all the windows open, and it was bloody cold away from the heat of the fire. The cardigan had seen better days, but the turtleneck and jeans looked fine. Though not quite as fine as she’d looked soaking wet. She had the prettiest little breasts, sitting right there on top of her rib cage, perky as you like, like they needed no support at all. There was one of those faint lines right now across the ribbed fabric of the turtleneck, like she was wearing a bra that only went halfway up.
He remembered that black bra, back at the lake, after the orthodontist. It had only come halfway up, and it had had some lace. And matching undies. He was guessing they were the tiny, high-cut kind, and Quinn’s thighs … that arse …
He had to work to remember what they’d been talking about. “Right. Which one?”
“The expensive one,” she said. “I think I deserve it. The price labels are on them, because I buy them online. You can sort based on reviews and expert ratings, so you get the best value, and they give you the stickers so you remember the price and the ratings.”
“Then I’d better have some, too,” he said, “if it’s got those ratings and all. Why don’t you go get comfortable, and I’ll bring it to you? Want more of those marshmallow things, too?”
“What? S’mores? Well, yeah, probably, but I already had one, and I put everything away, so—”
“I want one anyway," he said, “and I think we deserve to get what we want tonight. No worries, I’ll put everything away again. Go sit down.”
“Geez, you’re bossy.”
He grinned. “It’s my job. You judge people, and I boss.”
“Except that people don’t usually bossme,”she said.
“Well,” he said, “people don’t usually judge me, either, so we’re even. Go sit down.” Yeah, he wanted to boss her. Sue him, but he did. Pretty powerfully, and the urge was getting worse every minute.
