QUINN FELL ASLEEP on the way back from Sunny's. Considering it was only a ten-minute drive, it was a good indication of just how tired she must be.

I should have made her take a break way earlier than I did. There was no reason she should have been hustling as hard as the rest of us, even though Sunny had commented more than once that having an extra set of hands had been a godsend today.

I told him not to get used to it; Quinn would return to New York before we knew it. He hadn't been impressed by that response, and now I worried that my uncle was planning to kidnap a Warriors reporter just so Wednesdays were a little more bearable.

As for me, I thought today was incredibly unbearable.

Every time Quinn's body brushed against mine, my own body reacted. The slow simmer beneath my skin grew hotter. And even though being near Quinn Castle felt like ongoing torture, I was getting far too accustomed to being burned. Far too accustomed to leaning in to whisper in her ear, brushing my lips across her skin. Far too accustomed to trailing my fingers along her back. Far too accustomed to having her body pressed against mine.

Because that dance...what the hell was that dance? 

I should be somewhat consoled that Quinn clearly enjoyed herself as much as me, but I couldn't find it in me. I had a hunch that Quinn viewed dancing and flirting with men in bars as a casual, routine event. But there was nothing about that dance that felt casual to me. It felt like I wanted this woman. Badly.

Always had, but wanting her when I only saw her in small doses during stuffy interviews was manageable. This, though? This did not feel manageable. This did not feel right. She was here for a job, and I'd brought her to my family's bar, acted like a jealous fool when she started dancing with another man, and then encouraged her to grind up against my hard cock.

Fuck, what was I doing?

I glanced to the other side of the car, noting how moonlight cast across Quinn's pretty features as she leaned her head against the window. Her expression was soft and vulnerable, which did nothing to ease the guilt plaguing me.

Quinn Castle was young and carefree, still navigating the earlier days of her career. There was no reason washed-up men like me should be dancing with pretty girls like her in a bar.

Besides, I hadn't forgotten what she said earlier today.

You don't like reporters, so I'm trying not to act like one.

She claimed she wasn't putting on an act, and to an extent, I believed her. But it didn't change the fact that there were things she wanted from me, and part of my brain wondered if she danced with me, flirted with me, and laughed with me because she thought this was how she had to act for me to give them to her.

The chemistry, the heat...that had to be real, though. Didn't it? There was no way that was fake. It couldn't be. I heard her breath hitch, felt her body react to my touch.

Still, this wasn't right. It wasn't how I'd meant for things to go. I'd gotten carried away, and now I needed to fix it.

Quinn didn't stir when I parked my jeep in the driveway, so I walked around the car to carefully open the passenger door. She jolted a bit, sleepily rubbing her eyes, but I murmured for her to go back to sleep before slipping my arms beneath her and scooping her from the seat.

It was better for the both of us if she didn't wake up. Something told me that when Quinn regained full consciousness, she would start peppering me with questions about what happened earlier when I abruptly exited the dance floor, and I didn't know what to say yet.

How was I supposed to tell her that I started thinking too much about exactly how we were dancing, which became very hard to handle. Very, very hard.

Quinn happily readjusted in my arms, letting me carry her inside. She curled into my chest, almost like she was comfortable enough to sleep in this position all night long. I probably wouldn't mind it either, but we'd already had one morning when she woke up in my bed after going to Sunny's. We didn't need another.

Quinn barely stirred as I carried her to the guest bedroom. Only once I set her down on the mattress did she turn, her eyes fluttering open. She squinted at me, and I couldn't help a smile from worming its way onto my face.

"Go back to sleep," I whispered, pulling the blanket over her curled-up body.

"I'm still wearing clothes," she said groggily. "We talked about this, or did you forget?"

Did I forget our conversation a few mornings ago when she gave me permission to take off her clothes if she ever wound up drunk in my bed again? No, I definitely hadn't forgotten that.

But I didn't dare mention anything involving Quinn taking her clothes off. Not after the night we had. And she wasn't drunk. She was just tired, and I'd been really trying to avoid waking her up.

"You're wearing shorts," I said after clearing my throat. "I figured those would be more comfortable than last time when you were wearing jeans."

"Yeah, but they're jean shorts." Quinn groaned before her hands disappeared beneath the covers. She wiggled in the bed, and I wasn't sure what was going on until she whipped her shorts out from under the blanket and tossed them on the floor.

Great. Excellent. Perfect.

Now Quinn Castle was lying in the bed before me, wearing nothing but her underwear and a tank top. It was time for me to leave and try not to think about this or the raging erection I had earlier while in my own bed.

"That's better," she mumbled before turning over and snuggling into the pillow.

It was not better.

"Actually." She turned onto her back again, facing the ceiling as her hands disappeared beneath the covers for a second time. My brain was too mesmerized from watching her body writhe beneath the sheets to realize what she was doing. It should have been obvious, but I was too distracted to expect her to fling her underwear on the ground by my feet, right next to her jean shorts.

It was a black, lacy thong.

"Castle," I groaned.

"What?" she muttered, all innocent and unaware of the pain she was putting me through. "It was sweaty and uncomfortable."

I focused on taking a deep breath, shoving my hands into my pockets.

She misunderstood my silence.

"I promise I'll wash the sheets before I leave," she said.

I must be really fucked up tonight because all I could think about was how I wasn't looking forward to her leaving, and I didn't give a shit if she washed her sheets. More of my house could smell like her, and I'd be fine with that.

"I'm not worried about that," I admitted gruffly. "But if you wanted to wait till I leave next time before stripping your clothes off, that might be good."

"Didn't realize I would offend your delicate sensibilities." She yawned before giving me a tiny, mischievous smile. It seemed like all she could muster in her exhaustion. "Sorry, Fletcher."

"It's fine," I said, sighing before I turned to leave.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she whispered, stopping me in my tracks. "If I...if it was too–"

"I'm sorry, too," I said, cutting her off as I looked over my shoulder. "I shouldn't have–"

"No," she interrupted, her eyes glittering through the darkness as she looked up at me. I hadn't bothered turning on the lamp in the bedroom, so the only sliver of light came from the hallway. "I'm glad you did. I didn't want to dance with Finn. That's not why I went out on the dance floor."

I held my breath at her words, and then decided we should end this conversation before it traveled somewhere dangerous again.

"Quinn, go to sleep."

She blinked at me. Once. Twice. And if she realized I'd used her first name for once, she didn't say anything. She also didn't go back to sleep like I told her to.

"I know you're tired," I continued. "Please rest. I might be gone when you get up. I have a shipment coming in for the sports complex, and I need to be there to unload it early."

"What time?" she asked with another yawn. "I want to come."

"You don't need to."

"It's my job," she countered, which oddly stung.

She's hanging out with you because it's her job, I reminded myself. It shouldn't sting to hear it. I knew it. I knew it all too well.

I sighed. "I need to be there at seven."

She nodded before her eyes fluttered shut again, ready to float off on a cloud of dreams. "Don't leave without me. I want to come."

"Okay, Castle," I relented before leaving the room and gently closing the door behind me. I had a feeling Quinn would be passed out cold within a few minutes. And I had an even greater feeling that I would spend the rest of the night counting the wooden beams on my ceiling. 

Yes, she was hanging out with me because it was her job. And yes, she was being paid to be here. But something else she said would replay in my head all night long.

I didn't want to dance with Finn. That's not why I went out on the dance floor.

She wanted to dance with me. That or she wanted to see how easy it was to get a rise out of me. She wanted to see just how tightly she had me wrapped around her pretty little finger.

The answer was very tightly.

The minute Finny had walked over to her table, I'd known he was about to cause trouble. He was my best friend, but hell, did he like to fuck with me. I didn't take my eyes off the two of them for more than a few seconds while they chatted with annoyingly big grins on their faces. And so I caught the very moment Quinn had risen from her chair and followed my friend toward the crowd of bodies.

And then I hadn't even stopped to think. I just moved. I let my feet carry me until she was within reach, and then Finny all but twirled her straight into me. Because he knew that's what I wanted.

And maybe he knew that's what Quinn had wanted, too.

Tired of wrestling with my thoughts, I decided to focus on my body instead. I tossed my shirt into the hamper as I entered my room, walking straight to my bathroom, twisting the faucet in the shower, and cranking it as cold as it would go.

But not even a cold shower seemed to help me tonight.

Showers made me think of Quinn, too. Think of how she'd looked with water running down her smooth skin, with that bikini plastered to her tits, so perfect it was unbelievable.

My shower wasn't safe. My bed wasn't safe. Sunny's wasn't safe.

I suspected I would be living in dangerous territory from here on out. And all I could do was pray I survived Quinn Castle's presence.

Maybe I should just tell her everything. Get this over with. We could sit down, and I could give her every juicy detail she wanted to know about why I left football. About why I was here and what I was doing with my life.

But there was one little problem.

The truth–the full truth–was something she'd never be able to report on.

Not if she wanted to keep her job.

☀️

a/n:

he just likes her a *little* bit 😌

thanks for reading!
xoxo amelie