About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(84)

But somehow, my anger faded into the background. I ignored the way his fingers ran down the length of my arm to reach my hand. I tried to ignore the way he took my hand, his thumb caressing my palm. I couldn’t ignore the way my body thrummed. “How long have you been out here?”

His eyes met mine and he uttered a faint, “I don’t know, but for you, I would’ve waited forever.”

Unconsciously, my fingers curled around the thumb that continued to caress my palm. I moved to link our fingers, but pulled away at the very last second. I tried my best to pull off mild indifference. “Where’s Michelle?”

Quinn moved to sit up straight, but winced. “If she’s where I left her, she’s home,” then he mumbled, “Goddamn, this floor is not comfortable.”

I stood from my position by his side then reached for his hands and helped him stand. Once he worked out the kinks from his neck, I took him in.

His suit jacket was lying in a crinkled mess on the floor. His tie was undone, hanging untied around his neck. The two top buttons of his pale blue shirt were undone, and he somehow managed to half untuck his shirt from his slacks.

He was a mess. And he looked beautiful.

“Why are you here, Quinn?” I asked on a near whisper.

His brows creased slightly. “Can I come in?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him there was nothing to talk about. I wanted to be the smart, sassy girl I always wished I could be, but never really was.

Instead, I took my keys and opened my apartment door, walking through and leaving it open in silent invitation. I switched on the light in the kitchen, set down my shoes and bag, and then turned in time to see Quinn close the door behind him.

He approached me cautiously, as one would a spooked animal. Once he was a foot away, he started talking. “I’m out.”

Out? My brow furrowed in confusion. What did he mean by out?

“It was my last night with DFT. Michelle was my last client.”

I forgot to breathe. What did this mean?

His soft hazel eyes met mine and he took a small step forward. “I haven’t slept with another woman for weeks, Mia, and I certainly didn’t sleep with Michelle tonight.”

My voice cracked, “Why?”

He smiled that smile I love so much, and I saw sunshine. His said quietly, “Because this.” His eyes never left mine as he lowered his face. One hand reached up to cup my cheek as the other drew around my waist.

I didn’t want to be kissed. I needed to be kissed, or I would die. Just die. As his lips made contact with mine, I fell into Matt Quinn. I fell hard. A low groan escaped me as my arms came around his neck, pulling him deeper into me until we were flush against each other. We kissed each other as if it would be our very last. It very well could be.

My hands seemed to have a mind of their own. They gripped, and pulled, and pushed, and I wasn’t sure of what I really wanted. Well, apart from seeing Quinn’s clothes on the floor.

Just as I managed to pull his shirt all the way out of his pants, he pulled back, chuckling lightly and scrubbing a hand down his face. A pained, “Mia,” warned me off, but there was humor in it. He palmed his hard length and groaned, “Ugh. You’re killing me.” I pouted, and when Quinn spotted it, he smiled. “I only planned on kissing those sweet lips tonight, baby.”

I whined, stepping closer to him, a needy hand extended, “But I want to see what make-up sex is all about.”

He chuckled again, but kept his distance. “And when we have it, it’ll be unbelievable, but it’s all different now, Mia.”

I frowned. “How?”

He blinked down at me, a smile curving his full lips. “What, you don’t know?” He took a single step forward, took my outreached hand, and lifted it, kissing my knuckles.

It was then that my world tilted.

It was then he stated, “You’re everything to me.” His lips at my knuckles, he kissed them again sweetly. His eyes trained on mine, he declared a rushed and nervous, “I’m in love with you.”





Chapter FortyTwo



Quinn




This reaction was not exactly the one I wanted.

She stared.

That was about it.

Well, her mouth had parted slightly and she looked a little shocked, but not in the way I’d hoped. She was dumbfounded.

I lost the cool demeanor that had stuck with me through my teen years. Shifting slightly, loosening my hold on her hand, I swallowed hard and forced a nervous laugh. “Say something, Mia.”

Her mouth opened. Then shut. She tried again, her brow creasing, but still, not a word escaped those pretty pink lips. And I had gone from nervously excited to crushed in a second flat. She didn’t love me.

My body heat rose, a flush starting from my neck, working its way up. How could I have gotten it so wrong?

All the signs were there. The way she looked at me. The way she joked and laughed with me. The emotional, as well as the physical, effect we seemed to have on each other…

I groaned, stepping back. My palms dug into the sockets of my eyes as I tried desperately to erase the last seven minutes of my life.

Holy shit. Had I mistaken simple friendship with Mia for love? I knew how I felt about her, but it was possible that I hadn’t been friends with a woman in…well…forever, so I misread the signs.