Page 75 of Claim & Don't Tell


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Nothing feels good about suspecting the truth and finding out this way that I was right. Quinn sits next to me at the counter, and it takes every ounce of my control to keep from pulling her into my lap and running my hands all over her. Anything to make that hurt on her face disappear.

“Chicken parmigiana?” Austin asks, as if he doesn’t know that’s Quinn’s favorite. Her mom makes it every year for her birthday.

“That’s not below your star?” she teases, pretending like nothing is wrong, but she wrings her hands together in her lap, her shoulders hunching.

I cover my mouth with my hand. Fucking Brady. I’m going to kick his ass all over again the next time I see him.

“Nothing is below my star. My favorite thing to make is ramen with a little flourish.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Youlike ramen?” As if sensing my attention, her gaze slides to me. Her mouth parts slightly at the look on my face, and she tucks her hands beneath her legs.

“Of course.” Austin preps a breadcrumb mixture and continues to explain how bok choy, bean sprouts, and a scrambled egg can turn a block of noodles into a modern masterpiece.

Quinn runs her gaze over my face, eyebrows pinching together in concern as her eyes fall on my knuckles. “You’re bleeding,” she whispers.

I move my hand from my face and stare at my tattooed knuckles. They’re split and bloody, but not all the damage is from when I hit Brady. “I’ll survive.”

Pushing away from the counter, she grabs a washcloth and gets it wet, scowling at my hand like it has personally offended her. “You shouldn’t have hit him.”

“Are you telling me he didn’t deserve it?”

She sighs. “No, but you shouldn’t have hurt yourself to defend my honor.” Stopping in front of me, she hesitates for a moment before taking a breath and reaching for my hand.

I grip the counter with my other to keep from pulling her against my body. Her attention flicks to my whitening knuckles before moving back to the bloodied hand.

“He’s an asshole,” I tell her.

“He’s something,” she mutters before pressing the cloth to the knuckle that’s still actively bleeding. Her eyes lift to holdmine, and it’s like staring into the early morning sky. A promise of something beautiful teasing the horizon.

We just have to find a way to get back to how it was. Where’s a goddamn time machine when you need it?

“So,” I begin with a smirk, “you really did have a crush on me, huh?”

For a moment, she stares at me, then shock ripples over her features, followed by a grin that’s all for me. “You’re so obnoxious.”

“Admit it, little omega. Admit you’ve been dreaming about me as much as I’ve been dreaming about you.” There. I put it out there first, exposing my truth, so she can show me hers.

“Dylan,” Austin warns.

Always so cautious.

Quinn tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and avoids eye contact as she gently cleans my knuckles. She takes a step back, preparing to move away, but I capture her fingers, keeping her close.

“I don’t sleepwalk.”

She holds her breath for a moment, her gaze flying to meet mine. Three heart beats pass as I watch her process what that confession means. “What?”

“You heard me.” I tug her toward me. She comes willingly, confusion lining her face. “Me stumbling into your room was never an accident.”

All those nights I made my way to her room, curled myself around her—that was all intentional.

“Why?” Her hand begins to shake in mine. “Why come at all?”

I pull her even closer, placing a hand at the small of her back and securing her between my legs. It seems as though I have her trapped, but one hint of discomfort, one single push away fromme, and I’ll let her go. Quinn’s hand grasps my shirt, almost like she’s trying to keep herself in place or make sure I won’t leave.

“Sometimes, everything is too much. The expectations. The pressure to live up to Brady’s legacy. The war between doing what I love and doing what makes sense.” I blow out a breath. She squeezes my hand, comforting me when I should be comforting her. “All I know is when I’m in your bed, lying next to you, everything else feels less heavy. You make it easier to breathe.”

Thirty-One

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