“Kind of like me? God, Quinn, how the hell does your neck hold up that big head of yours?”
“Lots of muscles.”
She snorted, but then lifted her head. “I just…” A deep breath. “I don’t do the whole sex without attachments thing. It’s not my jam.”
He wanted to ask for more information, but doing so ran the risk of him spooking her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Then let’s be friends with benefits.”
“We aren’t friends.”
“We could be.” He could actually feel her gearing up to argue with him, so he took a step back and grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
“I will not be coming on anything.”
Quinn laughed. “That remains to be seen, but that’s not on the books right now.” He towed her into the bathroom and guided her to sit on the edge of the tub. “We could be friends.”
“You keep saying that. I keep not believing you.”
Hell, he wasn’t sure he believed it himself, but the thought of never going there with Aubry again wasn’t one he was willing to accept. Not now. Not when they had so much left to explore between them. The thought of never touching her again… Yeah, he wasn’t ready to give that up. So he started the hot water and blocked the drain. “Then I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you.”
“How? By drowning me in the bathtub?”
He shot her a look. “Has anyone ever told you that you are paranoid to an excessive degree?”
“If they have, I’ve ignored them because they’re obviously plotting my demise.” She gave a small smile. “But can you blame me? There are a lot of scary things out there in the world.”
“Peaches, there are a lot of scary things in your head.”
“It’s called an overactive imagination, combined with a lovely dose of anxiety that I was born with.” She shrugged. “But even so, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean the world isn’t out to get you.”
“If you say so.” He tested the water temperature and, satisfied, pointed at her. “Strip.”
“Strip?” She blinked. “I thought this was some kind of seduction. Aren’t you going to run me a bath and slowly remove my clothes while whispering sweet nothings in my ear and then wash my hair while I bliss out?”
“What the hell kind of books have you been reading?”
“Fiction, obviously.” She grumbled under her breath, stood, and took off her clothes. He wanted to ask her about her tattoos, but that could wait, too. This wasn’t about that. While she was divesting herself of her panties, he strode into the room and rummaged through her bag to find her headphones and cell phone. This wasn’t going to solve all their issues, but it would at least ensure she wasn’t calling the whole thing off because of a knee-jerk reaction.
He refused to examine too closely why he wasn’t willing to just let it end.
Quinn made it back into the bathroom in time to see her slip into the water. The sight of all her skin wet made his mouth go dry and his body go hard. He almost—almost—threw his good intentions out the window right then and there. But it would mean short-term gain and he’d lose her again in the morning—for good this time. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He set her stuff on the edge of the tub and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.
…
Despite Aubry’s best intentions, they didn’t talk that night. She took her time in the bath and when she walked out of the bathroom, Quinn bundled her up into bed, turned out the lights, and, for all intents and purposes, seemed to fall fast asleep with her in his arms. She lay staring at the ceiling for what felt like the entire night, wondering when her life had gotten so weird.
Between one blink and the next, dawn came. Or that’s what it felt like. In reality, it was entirely possible the sound of Quinn’s steady breathing had lulled her into a false sense of security and she passed out cold. She’d never admit it, though.
Aubry sat up and shoved her hair away from her eyes. A quick check of the clock had her panic flying into full throttle. “Oh my God, wake up.” She shoved Quinn’s shoulder and scrambled out of bed. They only had an hour before the demo, and it would take at least half that to find the room and get signed in and… “We have to go. Right now.”
“What?” Quinn sat up, looking so deliciously rumpled that she might have reconsidered her decision not to jump back into bed with him if they weren’t already so late.
She rushed to her suitcase and dug through it. Nothing was right. It didn’t matter that she’d played with some of these guys in the past—this was a first impression kind of situation. I am awful at first impressions. This was why she didn’t meet people face-to-face. She could fake her way through interactions online because she had the comfort of either her apartment or Cups and Kittens. She was in her safe places. There was nothing safe about DeathCon. There would be so many people and some of them would even want to, like, hold down a conversation with her. “I can’t do this.”