Does she really think I’m such a prick that I’d do all this just to humiliate her? To hurt her?
The urge to ask is nearly overwhelming, but I swallow the question down, afraid of the answer.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” I gesture to the bottle chilling in an ice bucket on the desk.
Wine isn’t really my thing, but the guy at the store assured me it was good quality, and I figured it would help set the mood.
She opens her mouth—probably to decline—but hesitates.
The moment stretches out between us, each second ticking by painfully slow, but I force myself to wait her out.
Just like running down the play clock.
Quinn scans the room, her attention landing on the king-size bed with its blue and gold brocade comforter and mountain of pillows. She swallows, and when she finally answers, there’s a touch of relief in her words. “That would be great, actually.”
Thank Christ.
I could use a glass myself. If nothing else, it’ll give me something to do with my hands. I pour two glasses and offer one to Quinn.
“I meant what I said before,” I say, holding her gaze. “I want to help. We can do this and then you can go back to hating me tomorrow.”
My chest tightens at the prospect.
She freezes, the wineglass halfway to her lips. “I don’t hate you, Coop.”
I quirk a brow, and to my surprise, Quinn smiles.
“To be fair, you are a pain in the ass.”
“Yeah, but I’m a charming pain in the ass.”
At least, that’s what I’ve been told.
Quinn takes a hasty sip of her wine, and it’s clear she’s trying to hide another smile.
You’ve still got it, DeLaurentis.
“Now that we’ve established the fact that you don’t hate me.” I place my untouched wine on the desk. “I’d like to present my qualifications.”
Quinn snorts and lifts her wineglass in a mocking salute. “By all means.”
“First, as we’ve already agreed, I’m charming.”
“If you do say so yourself,” she cuts in, eyes dancing with amusement.
“Don’t interrupt. I’ll lose my place and have to start all over.” Quinn laughs, the sound light and sweet and so damn endearing.Focus, asshole. I clear my throat and gather my thoughts. “As I was saying, I’m charming. Sexy. I know my way around a woman’s body. All of which makes me the perfect partner for a one-night stand.”
“That’s it?”
My palms begin to sweat. “Uh, yeah.”
What else is there? What am I missing?
Orgasms. I should’ve mentioned orgasms.
Quinn shakes her head and crosses her free hand over her stomach. “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this.”
Anticipation fills my chest, and for all my experience, I can’t remember the last time I was so desperate to touch a woman. Quinn is gorgeous and the slinky green slip dress she’s wearing is sexy as fuck, but it’s not the dress that has desire humming along my skin like an electrical current.
