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After being with Quinn, I would be a liar if I said I haven’t thought about sex. I have a feeling once it happens, Quinn will own me; mind, body, and soul. I’ve never wanted to do that with anyone—ever. But with Quinn, it’s all I can think about when he’s near me, especially when he’s half nude.
“Why have you gone shy all of a sudden? You certainly weren’t shy back in New Orleans. Or in the truck,” Quinn whispers into my ear.
He is leaning into my back, and I hope to God he has put pants on, as the thought of a pantless Quinn, pressed up against me, leaves me breathless, totally giving my thoughts away.
Thankfully as Quinn steps into view, I see he has indeed slipped into a pair of sweats, but no shirt. My eyes dip to his navel, which is perfectly covered in a fine dusting of soft, dark hair leading to his low-slung pants.
Will I ever get used to seeing him without my heart ending up in my throat?
“What’s the matter?” he asks, taking a step toward me.
“I was just thinking.”
“About?” Quinn prompts.
“About what happened between us back in New Orleans.”
“You want to be a little more specific?” He smirks, knowing damn well what I’m talking about.
“Never mind. Anyway, I bought you some stuff,” I say, hoping to evade this topic as I rifle through the plastic bags.
Quinn is about to speak, but Justin chooses that moment to enter, and thankfully put an end to this awkward conversation.
Happy’s Bar and Grill is anything but happy.
Looking at my untouched burger, I internally apologize to all the starving kids in the world because there is no way I can eat my meal as I feel like I’m about to be sick. Justin is at the bar, waiting in line to get another pitcher of beer, and I wish Quinn would quit it with the death stares.
“Would you please stop looking at him like he’s the Antichrist?” I sigh, pushing at my fries.
Quinn’s eyes are narrowed, and he’s rubbing his stubbled jaw, deep in thought.
“I don’t trust him. Something is off about him. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “Quinn, please. Just till we get to Canada.”
“Yeah, well, Canada is over a thousand miles away. And he’s about zero miles away from me ripping off his arms and beating him to death with them,” he replies, tossing back his beer.
Justin returns, and we all dive for the booze, desperate to drown the evening with alcohol.
However, after one too many pitchers of beer, I decide the next girl who accidentally on purpose touches Quinn will lose a finger.
There is something about Quinn, and it’s not just his phenomenal looks. His ego alone is enough to fill a room, but his presence and his confident, cocky demeanor seem to attract…everyone.
I can’t help but watch him as he casually stands at the bar, surrounded by women. Justin is talking to me about something, and I know I’m being extremely rude, peering over his shoulder, watching Quinn, but I’m hoping he won’t notice.
But he does.
“You really like him, huh?”
My eyes snap to his sheepishly, totally busted.“Sorry.”
Justin shakes his head. “It’s nice to see you smile.”
I’m anything but smiling at the moment, but I guess he is referring to the times when Quinn and I don’t want to throttle one another.
“It’s nicetosmile.”
“You were at school, but not really there, if you know what I mean,” Justin comments, fiddling with a coaster.
