Page 92 of Sex Positive

Gabriel shoots him a sharp look. “You want to slow down there, Wesley?”

Wes grins tauntingly, maintaining eye contact while he drains his glass.

Gabriel frowns and looks away, clearing his throat.

“Wait, so you already took the LSAT, right?” Emilia pipes up, and Charlie could kiss her for directing the conversation away from her brother and his increasing intoxicated state.

“I have.”

“What’d you score?”

“One seventy-eight.”

Emilia whistles low. Rebecca exclaims with the exact amount of enthusiasm Charlie wishes she’d received from her own mother when she told her.

Wes reaches for the second wine bottle and pours another full glass.

Gabriel’s shrewd gaze slides from his son to Charlie, a sharp smile on his lips.

Ten minutes after the Quinns drop Charlie off at home, there’s a knock at her door.

For the third time in just over a month, her heart stutters when she spies Wes through the peephole.

She opens the door. “Hey, what are you—”

He holds up her work bag, the strap dangling off his middle and index finger. “You forgot this in the car. Wanted to make sure you had it in case you need it tomorrow.”

She accepts it from him, setting it just inside the door. “Thank you.”

He nods but doesn’t leave. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he watches her, his gaze roving over her whole body. Her skin flames under his stare, the silence between them stretching.

She clears her throat. “Do you need anything else?”

His lips curve in a devilish smile. She can tell he’s not as drunk as he was the night of the clinic’s holiday party despite the amount of wine she watched him consume at dinner, yet leaning against the doorjamb, he studies her like a predator who doesn’t want to frighten his prey.

“Do you remember…” he begins, lifting his hand to her face. Her mouth goes dry when his fingers trace her jaw, leaving sparks of electricity in their wake, her skin blistering under his touch. “…the rainstorm we got caught in freshman year?” His grip on her chin is gentle. He doesn’t wait for her answer, which is good, because she’s not sure she can respond if she tries. “The sky opened up on our way back from the library, and we had to sit in the student union forhours, waiting for it to pass. You looked like a drowned rat.”

She scoffs and tries to pull away, but he keeps hold of her chin.

“It was adorable.” His heavy-lidded gaze moves to her lips. “I never had to pretend with you, Charlie. It was always soeasy.” His lips hover so close, their breath mingling. “You’ve always had the power to ruin me.”

His thumb brushes her bottom lip, and her breath stutters.

She wants to pull it into her mouth.

Even more than that, she wants to interrogate him about dinner. Ask him why his parents knew about her years ago. Why did it feel like they knew more about her than they should?

She turns her face away before he kisses her, and his lips meet her cheek instead. She shivers, and he sighs, his forehead resting against her temple.

“You’re drunk,” she breathes.

“And you’re beautiful.”

Given how drunk he is, she tries to ignore his words despite how they threaten her resolve.

He drops his hand, drawing away. “But you can’tstandme except when I’m making you come.”

“Quinn.”