Eleven
Charlie licks the whipped cream on top of her milkshake, not bothering with her spoon. When it smears across her nose, Wes smirks.
“What?”
“You’ve always been a little sugar gremlin,” he says.
She takes an even larger lick, followed by a slurp. Wes laughs, and she’s dizzy from the sound.
She rubs her nose. “Is it gone?”
He pops a French fry in his mouth. “Yup.”
They sit across from each other in a booth upholstered with sapphire-blue plastic at Archwood’s premier burger bar.
More booths line one wall, and large windows showcase the main street just off campus where other bars and restaurants usually overflow with students.
A partition divides the large room in half.
During the day, Tom’s American Café caters to fast-casual diners before transitioning into a nightclub–cum–sports bar after nine p.m. Photos of famous alumni, celebrities, and politicians who’ve visited the bar over the years hang on the walls.
Pop music from the early aughts pumps through the built-in speakers in the ceiling.
“By the way,” Charlie says, sipping her chocolate and peanut butter milkshake, “Victoria agreed to do the podcast.”
Wes takes a large bite of his classic American cheeseburger, looking unsurprised. “Good.”
“She managed not to be completely turned off by Theo when they met.”
Wes takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “He’s not always an asshole.” At Charlie’s skeptical look, Wes laughs. “There’s a heart in there!”
Charlie licks up more of her whipped cream, a flush spreading over her face when Wes’s eyes track the movement. “How long have you known him?”
“Since birth, basically.” Wes stabs a fry into some ketchup. “My mom and Cici were roommates in college.”
“Cici?”
“Cecilia,” he answers. “Theo’s mom.”
Charlie nods. “Right.”
Of course. Like it’s normal to call one of the most beautiful actresses on the planet by a casual nickname.
“How often do you see him?”
He shrugs. “Often enough. More when we were younger and our families vacationed together, but then Chris and Cici got a divorce. By then I was almost done with high school, and Theo spent most of his time in European nightclubs. That was a rough time, but we got through it.”
“I guess I don’t understand why you’re friends with him,” she adds.
“Theo’s not who the press portrays him to be,” Wes continues, a thoughtful look in eye.
“He talks a big game on his podcast, but he’s kind of beholden to what the company wants him to do.
He’s got a loud mouth and sometimes spouts off, but this time, it got out of hand, and he regrets it.
” Wes waves a fry through the air. “His podcast persona is all an act.”
Charlie sips her milkshake, considering his words. She hopes that what Wes says is true for the sake of Victoria’s podcast appearance and the future of the clinic.
“You care about him,” she observes.
Wes shrugs. “We have history together. Sometimes you don’t want to give up on someone.”
“Do you think it will work?” she asks quietly. When he glances at her, she clarifies, “The podcast?”
His gaze softens. Her heart aches at the familiarity. They used to do this all the time—share a meal, talk about their lives—back when her barbs weren’t tipped with disdain, when his smirk wasn’t so sharp and patronizing.
“I think you did the hard part already,” he says. “Theo agreed. Victoria agreed. They met each other, and somehow, Theo didn’t say anything that made her want to slap him.”
He grins, and Charlie relaxes.
“We’ll have to wait and see,” Wes adds. “But if it doesn’t work, you’ll find another way to raise the money.”
She stares into her half-finished milkshake. Her body warms at his flattery, his words doing too much for her ego and making it difficult to compartmentalize her feelings.
“I’m coming with you, by the way,” he adds.
“Where?”
“To the podcast recording.”
Her brows rise in surprise. “You don’t have to. It’s a three-hour train ride, and it’s only for the day—”
He waves away her protests. “Don’t worry about it. I have to meet my dad for a work dinner anyway. I can help keep Theo in line.” His lips twitch. “Then again, you already know how to do that.”
Her cheeks heat. How foolish of her to think he wanted to come because of her.
“So.” Wes eats the last of his burger and wipes his fingers on his napkin. “What’s next in our experiment?”
Charlie’s so surprised by the change in topic, she nearly upends the rest of her milkshake. Wes’s eyes glitter with amusement.
She swirls her spoon in the glass. “You saw my list.”
“I saw the absolute failure of anyone else to make you feel good,” he replies, and she swears his voice pitches lower. “Come on. You trust me, right?”
She studies him through narrowed eyes. “Debatable.”
Before she can react, he takes her hand. His thumb begins tracing a path over her knuckles.
“Rogers. What else do you want to try?”
She stares at their connected hands, her throat dry. Lifting her gaze, she catches the sincerity on his face.
She takes a breath. “I’d classify our first experiment as a success.
” His grin widens. She continues, “I like being kissed on the neck. A lot. Next, I’d like to see how it feels when you finger me.
I haven’t been able to find a partner who listens when I tell him what feels good and what movements get me off. ”
He rests his chin on his other hand, his attention fixed on her.
She glances over his shoulder at a couple seated a few booths away before clearing her throat, her face blazing with heat. “You could incorporate some light hair pulling, too.” She aims for a casual shrug, but it feels more like a spasmodic twitch.
“Hair pulling?” His eyes darken, his thumb still tracking fire over the back of her hand.
“Why is that surprising?”
He smiles. “It’s unexpected.”
She presses her lips together before murmuring, “I’m not the na?ve, sheltered girl I used to be, Quinn.”
Does he remember when he made that flippant remark that resulted in so many changes for her?
His brows rise briefly, but she doesn’t give him a chance to reply, blurting, “And then, hopefully, we’ll progress to giving and receiving oral, and eventually penetration.”
He considers her. “So scientific and sexy. Giving and receiving oral, but no kissing?”
“It’s too intimate.”
With you, she doesn’t add.
“But receiving oral isn’t?”
She pulls her hand from his. “It’s a boundary—”
“You’re right.” He raises his hands. “I’m sorry. You’re the boss, and I will abide by your rules. I am at your disposal.”
Her stomach flutters. He’s arguing in favor of kissing her.
But it doesn’t mean anything. She would do well to remember the facts: Wesley Quinn is attractive and fit, occasionally intelligent, and sometimes funny. She can keep her feelings separate from the physical response her body has whenever he’s near.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. Behind the bar, ice rattles in the shaker as the bartender crafts a cocktail. “Maybe we can do something after the next study session. After you’ve made progress.”
He winks. “A treat for putting in the hard work.”
Remembering the treat she gave herself a few nights earlier, her eyes snag on the curve of his lips, the lips that wove simple pleasure into her skin.
Trying to remain aloof about the fact that she’s discussing intimate sexual acts with Wesley Quinn in the middle of Archwood’s most popular college bar, she nods. “Exactly.”
“I’m already miles ahead of Foul Feet Colin.”
She laughs, shocked. “Stop!”
He grins, his eyes crinkling. “Shan’t.”
She covers her face with her hands so she doesn’t have to look at his dumb handsome face. He’s making her feel light enough to fly. “I can’t believe I told you that.”
His warm fingers wrap around her wrists, tugging them down. “Don’t hide. Your secret’s safe with me.”
She doesn’t pull away, and his stare lingers. He opens his mouth to speak, but an all-too-familiar voice interrupts.
“Oh, shit. Look how adorable this is.”
Nash Hudson stands at their booth, staring at them with gleeful interest.
Charlie retracts her hand like Wes has burned her. “Nash!” Her voice comes out too high-pitched. “Hi!”
A young woman with a graceful, elfin quality and long honey-blond hair styled in the sort of gentle waves Charlie will never achieve stands beside him.
When Nash laughs, Charlie can’t help noticing it’s nothing like Wes’s. “Elle and I wanted to grab a bite to eat. Mind if we join you?”
Without waiting for a response, he slides into the booth next to Wes, forcing him to shift toward the wall. Wes rearranges his face into a mask of cool nonchalance, but his mouth thins, and he shoots Nash a dark look when he nabs a fry off his plate.
“Elle, sweetheart, you wanna grab us drinks?” Nash hands her his card and winks.
When she departs for the bar, he turns his attention back to Charlie and Wes, his smile transforming into a leer.
“So, you two are back to fucking?”
Wes’s hands twitch.
“We’re working together on a project,” Charlie says.
A calculating gleam appears in Nash’s eye.
“Which you are currently interrupting.” Wes turns his dark gaze on the man seated beside him. “So get lost.”
Nash grins wider, resting his cheek on his fist. “Looks like the Quinn men still can’t keep their hands off the Hudson family’s things—”
Wes shoves Nash, and he nearly falls out of the booth.
“Quinn!” Charlie gasps. She glances around, but no one seems to have noticed the scuffle. Elle is still waiting for her and Nash’s drink order. “What the hell are you—”
Wes’s fists clench on the table, his eyes shooting daggers at Nash, who slides out of the booth and rises easily to his feet. He laughs, cold and cruel.
“It was almost cute, Charlotte, the pathetic way you chased me. I was flattered that you wanted me to fuck you, but once I heard about you and Quinny here, I couldn’t stomach the thought.”
His words paralyze her. Sharp, prickly heat spreads over her body, something bitter and metallic coating her tongue. “I don’t—”
“Hudson.” Wes’s voice is a low growl, seething with anger. “If you don’t back the fuck off right now, your Daddy is going to have to pay for a new set of veneers.”
Nash sneers. “Try it. I’ve been dying for you to hit me for years.”
Charlie’s gut writhes with nausea and regret. She can’t believe she ever thought having sex with Nash Hudson was a good idea.
Wes clenches his fists but doesn’t move.
Nash smirks and claps Wes gruffly on the shoulder. “Always a treat catching up with you, Quinny. Tell your sister I say hello.”
Wes flinches. Charlie’s heart pounds, her palms sweaty where she clutches the edge of her seat.
“Quinn—” she begins, but he pushes out of the booth without looking at her. When he stalks to the bar to pay their bill, she watches the rigid lines of his broad back, the tension coiled in his muscles.
She has no idea what that was about, but she’s never seen Wes react this way to anything before.
A few minutes later, he returns, his expression neutral. “Ready?” He starts for the exit without waiting for a response.
Charlie stumbles out of the booth, hurrying after him. “Quinn!” Two of her strides equal one of his, so she half runs while his long legs carry him quickly down the sidewalk. “Quinn, what the hell was that?”
He turns around so fast she nearly slams into his chest. “You want to know what the deal is between Hudson and me?”
She gapes, her breath catching at the uncharacteristic fury splashed across his features.
He releases an angry huff of frustration, his hands flexing at his sides. The sun hangs low in the sky. A trio of young women steps around them, heading in the direction of the bars for happy hour.
“We grew up in the same town and went to the same high school,” he explains.
“I didn’t know that,” Charlie says softly.
Wes stares at the ground, his jaw clenching. “Yeah, well. Sophomore year, we discovered my dad was having an affair with his mom.”
Something sharp cuts through her chest. “Quinn—”
“They ended it. My parents worked it out somehow and stayed together.” Raw vulnerability lines his face. “His didn’t. His mother got a bunch of money in the divorce and moved to California. Nash was angry and made the rest of high school complete hell for me.”
Charlie has a sudden urge to take his hand. “The affair wasn’t your fault.”
He flashes a wry smile. “Tell that to Nash.” He stares at a spot over her shoulder. “But the cherry on top of the shit sundae was when I walked in on my date giving him a blow job at the senior prom after party.”
Charlie flinches at the sharp edge to his tone. The same shivery unease she felt when Nash touched her, when he kissed her, pricks her skin, and her face burns at the memory of her fruitless experiment, of Nash on top of her, ignoring her wants and needs and jabbing at her with his inept fingers.
“He saw me, too, and I knew he’d done it intentionally.
My date was just caught in the middle. He even tried getting involved with my sister, but she’s too smart for his bullshit.
I’ve tried to stay out of his way since then.
” His eyes snap up to hers, his face stony.
“Until now. Because you told him we slept together.”
“I didn’t know,” she whispers. A sudden impulse to provide comfort propels her forward.
He steps back, however, and her insides turn to ice.
“Any more questions, Rogers?”
Charlie snaps her mouth shut, stunned into silence. Without another word, Wes turns on his heel and stalks away.