to feel his flirtatious smile burn into my cheek.
“Just go,” I croak, needy, my palm on his chest.
“Want to join me?”
I furrow my brows, my threat ingrained deep on my face.
“Stop playing and go, Quaid. I mean it,” I tell him more forcefully, this time pushing on his chest as hard as I can so he can give me back some breathing room. With Quaid, it’s hard not to be left breathless.
He lets out a long exhale and takes a deep whiff of my perfume before kissing my cheek and letting me go. Finally.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t start without me.” He winks.
I nod and pretend I still have something to do, when in reality, all I’m thinking is how I wish I could follow him into the bathroom and watch him stroke himself with images of me.
And hence my dilemma.
Logan refuses to touch me, tormenting me with his restraint.
Quaid can’t keep his hands off me, torturing me with desire.
And Carter…Carter wants me to beg for his touch.
All three infuriate me.
Worst of all, all three boys have my heart and there is nothing I can do about it.
Or want to for that fact.
Twenty minutes later, we are all sitting at our kitchen table, enjoying Dad’s latest Italian dish.
“I still think you should quit being an architect and become a chef, Mr. E. This is delicious,” Quaid proclaims in between bites.
“Thanks, son. But cooking is just a hobby, not my primary love.” Dad winks at me.
I throw him a smile and take another forkful of my salad, my eyes discreetly lingering on Quaid’s broad frame from time to time. His brown hair is still a bit wet from his shower, but apart from that, he looks incredible in his blue Henley and jeans. All his defined abs are on display, making my mind wander.
“Are you going somewhere after dinner?” Dad asks, voicing the burning question in my mind.
“Yeah. A couple of the guys on the team are going to a back to school party later on, and I said I would tag along,” Quaid replies, grabbing another serving of cannelloni goodness.
I bow my head and keep eating, although each forkful suddenly isn’t as delicious as it was.
“Whose party?”
“Tracy Hollis, a girl in my calculus class. Her folks are out of town for the weekend, so she’s throwing a bash,” Quaid explains, not one bit aware of the jealousy brewing inside of me.
“Will there be alcohol at this party?” Dad interrogates.
“Duh. It wouldn’t be a kegger without a keg,” Quaid jokes, causing my father’s deep frown to come forth.
“I see. Are you going to take your car?”
“How else would I get there?”
“Don’t get cute with me, son. If you’re taking your car, then I hope you are intelligent enough not to drink and drive.”
Quaid’s eyes lift from his plate and look in my dad’s direction.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, old man. Logan is coming, too. He’s going to be the designated driver. I’m not going to go and drink my body weight in alcohol, either. Just have a few beers. That’s all.”
“Hmm. Well, if Logan is going, then I have nothing to worry about. But still, if he drinks, give me a call and I’ll pick you both up. No matter what time it is. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Quaid replies, and I don’t miss how his green eyes soften with my dad’s concern for his well-being.
Quaid is just a few months shy of his eighteenth birthday, and even though he acts like he’s the big man on campus, he’s still a minor who shouldn’t be drinking in the first place. As much as Dad tries to be there for him, he’s not his actual father to forbid him not to drink. I guess I should be content he is taking Dad’s counsel to heart, even if he is going to Tracy Hollis’ stupid party.
Quaid has always been the social butterfly in our group. He likes being the center of attention. He likes it when the kids back at school gawk and admire him. You don’t need a psychologist degree to know that his instant need for validation and adoration stems from his parents being such jerks. They’ve never had much of a presence in his life, nor do they really care that they are absentee parents. It’s been that way since I’ve met him, and neither his mom nor dad have ever tried to remedy that fact. God gave them this wonderful, good-hearted son, and still, they just don’t give