Page 28 of Sex Positive

“Do you ever see Nash?” she asks.

He huffs out a dry laugh. “Not if I can help it.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what the deal is between you two?”

He glances at her sidelong, his lips twitching. “Not if I can help it.”

She scowls. “You’re so aggravating.”

“That’s not what you said three hours ago,” he quips.

She doesn’t respond, her face flushing at the memory of his lips on her skin.

After concluding their experiment, she insisted he finish the practice test.

“You asked me to tutor you, so I’m tutoring you.” Hovering next to the fridge, she clutched a glass of water as she willed her heart rate to slow and tried to regain control of her urge to take him up on the filthy things he whispered in her ear. “This is what worked for me.”

Wes skulked back to the table. “I forgot howbossyyou are.”

“Like I said, you can always have Daddy Quinn hire someone else,” she replied lightly.

He shot her a dark look. “Start the timer, Rogers.”

She bit her lip, hiding her smile, and reset the clock.

Since Theo was heading back to New York the next day, Wes suggested she come over that night and present her case to him.

“I’m assuming you have an eight-hundred-slide PowerPoint presentation highlighting the benefits of having Dr. Angelo on Theo’s show.” He frowned at the paper in his hand, a list of LSAT topics for him to study on his own that Charlie had compiled as they’d reviewed his practice test.

“It’s not eight hundred slides.” She zipped her laptop in her backpack and swung it over her shoulder. “It’s five hundred.”

When he laughed, she ignored the pleasant fizz that burst across her skin.

Now, stepping out of the elevator, she follows him down the hall. It’s not until he scans his key and the lock blinks green that it hits her.

She’s about to enter Wesley Quinn’s apartment.

It’s just an apartment, she chides herself.

“Welcome, welcome.” He holds the door open for her. “To my humble abode.”

The layout is identical to Nash’s—open concept with modern appliances—but the apartment overall iswarmer. A black leather sofa with matching ottoman takes up much of the living room, and a random assortment of black-and-white photographs hang on the soft gray walls. Several succulents are scattered around the kitchen, and Charlie spies a bookshelf in the corner next to the flat-screen TV, which is playing ESPN on mute.

A familiar scent—something distinctlyWes—assaults her senses, flinging her back to a time when it was a comfort more than anything.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Wes opens the fridge, disappearing for a moment behind the door. “Water? Seltzer? Wine?”

“Water is fine.” She shucks off her shoes and edges farther into the room. She certainly doesn’t need to lower her inhibitions; she’s already feeling on edge, and she needs every bit of brain power. Sinking into a chair at the simple glass kitchen table, she’s about to ask whether Theo is actually there when a soft meow comes from her feet.

When she glances down, the bright yellow eyes of a black cat peer up at her. Upon closer inspection, its paws are white with a white blaze above its nose. It flicks its tail, observing her.

“Hello there.” She extends a hand, and the cat stands on its hind legs, giving her fingers a thoughtful sniff. Charlie scratches between its ears, and it purrs quietly. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”

Wes sets a glass of water in front of her. The cat abandons her to rub itself against his ankles.

“Teddie.” He crouches, and the cat rolls to his back, baring his belly. “He’s my littlebaby. Been with me for fifteen years now.”

Charlie’s insides swirl at the note of admiration in his voice. “Teddie? Is that because of—”