Page 13 of Sex Positive

Dropping his bag to the floor, he folds himself into the chair across from her and laces his hands behind his head, his long-sleeved black sweater rolled to his elbows, his hair artfully mussed.

“Oh, so youcansee me.” One corner of his mouth lifts. “I was afraid I’d become invisible.”

“One can always hope.” She remains calm, knowing he’s trying to rile her up. “You see, I suffer from this condition called selective hearing. It occurs specifically when annoying pests keep badgering me. Eventually, they evaporate into thin air, thus sheltering my brain from their stupidity.”

His low laugh feels like fingers dancing down her spine. He’s watching her in a way that unnerves her, like he sees right through her, like he knows she’s using indifference as armor.

He picks up a stack of sticky notes. “Can we talk?”

She grabs them back, shoving them in her bag. “No.”

He picks up a pen and twirls it around his fingers in an astounding feat of dexterity. “What did you score on the LSAT?”

She snatches the pen out of his hand and scoops up the other sticky notes and pens before he can grab those, too. “None of your business.”

He grins when she smacks his hand away from the last pen on the table. “Was it that bad?”

“No, but I’m not telling you.”

“It’s okay, Rogers.” He winks, sliding her notebook from under her elbow. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

She yanks it back and thrusts it into her bag. “Goaway, Quinn.”

Wes snatches up her Experiment Journal before she can blink, the glittery pink cover sparkling under the glare of the library’s fluorescent lights.

Springing to her feet, Charlie half launches herself over the table. “Quinn! Give that back!”

“Why did you tell Nash we slept together?” Holding the journal above his head, his long arm keeping it well out of her reach, he leans back in his chair.

“It just slipped out!” Her heart pounds, and panic coats her tongue. Hecannotread that journal. It contains her private thoughts, her privateobservationsabout her pleasure and desires and—

Hecan’t.

Crawling onto the table, she kneels in front of him. His smile widens, egging her on, and her anger boils. Stretching her body above his, she grabs his wrists and tries to yank down his arms. He laughs, and she hates the way it completely transforms him, making him even more handsome.

Completely unaffected by her attempts to retrieve her journal, he leans in close. “Oh, it slipped out, did it? I always knew Hudson was lying about his size—”

“Stop being a child!” Chest heaving, Charlie freezes, her breath stuttering at the proximity of his face.

His eyes flicker with something she can’t parse before it vanishes. When his gaze slides to her lips, a thrill zips through her.

“Easy there, Rogers.” Slowly, he lowers his arms, her fingers still wrapped around his wrists like handcuffs. “Didn’t know you liked it rough.”

When he winks, she growls—actuallygrowls—because that’s what he does to her. Turns her into a snarling, furious mess.

Dropping her hands like he burned her, she snatches the journal from his grasp. Cheeks flushed, she scrambles off the table, avoiding his eyes. “How did you even find me here?”

“You haven’t changed.” He gestures to the quiet floor. “Your study location is still very predictable.”

An ache shoots through her at his words, at the reminder of their past and how well he used to know her.

He arches a brow. “You want to tell me why you’re even more of a spitfire than usual today?”

She huffs out a breath, not even bothering to deny it. “I take it you won’t leave me alone otherwise?”

He grins. “Nope.” He pops thepwith obvious relish.

Pressing her palms to her eyes, she inhales through her nose and exhales through her mouth before clasping her hands on the table.