“Yup, they sent everything we usually have. I was shocked, but you know my dad. Whenever he does anything, he does it over the top.”
“I’m grateful we didn’t have to eat Corium’s version of Thanksgiving. I’d rather eat the cupcakes your sister made for me for my birthday a couple years ago than try what they were serving in the cafeteria today.”
Quinton bursts into laughter, and the tension drains out of the room.
“Shit, those things were horrible. I couldn’t even stomach eating a whole one. Scarlet worked so hard on them, and I remember your face as you ate the whole thing, acting like you loved it ’cause I told you if you made her cry, I’d punch you in the face.”
“Yeah, I’m lucky I didn’t get food poisoning.” Ren shakes his head.
I peek up from my plate at him. He’s attractive in the same way Quinton is, except unlike Quinton, who has this boyish charm, Ren doesn’t have that. He seems more mature than he should be, his features sharp, his gaze penetrating like he can see right through you.
He catches me staring, and I dart my eyes back down to my plate. Strangely, I’m not intimidated by him, not like I would be under normal circumstances. It doesn’t take me long to eat again, and I drink all the wine in my glass, letting the warmth of the alcohol spread through my limbs. Ren and Quinton talk for a bit, and I immerse myself in their conversation, feeling like we’re friends instead of me being the enemy.
After a while, my head becomes heavy, and I know the wine is affecting me. I push from the table, my legs like jelly.
It’s a bold move, but I stare at Quinton as I speak. “I think I’m going to go back to my room. Thank you for dinner. I really appreciate it. I can’t imagine how bad today would’ve been if it wasn’t for you.”
Emotions I can’t pinpoint flicker in his stormy blue eyes.
“Don’t leave yet. Come to my room with me,” he offers before I can take a step away from the table.
I should tell him no, but things feel different, and with the wine pumping through my veins, I don’t have the strength to deny him.
Instead, I whisper, “Sure.”
Then I wait for him to make the next move.
30
QUINTON
The wine has definitely loosened her up a bit. I can tell because no way would she have agreed to stay if she was sober. Ren gives me a strange look from across the table but keeps his mouth shut. I don’t want or need his judgment.
I shove away from the table, leaving him to clean up the mess. Aspen and I walk to my room side by side. The last two weeks have shed a new light on my relationship with Aspen. I don’t hate her, and in fact, I don’t think I ever did, but I need her, and that terrifies me.
Needing her when I’ve needed no one is not something a man like me, who was born into the mafia, trained to kill, and will eventually overtake the Rossi empire, should feel. To need someone is a weakness I can’t afford to show or have, and because of Aspen, I am weak.
I open the door, and we both step inside. I can feel the tension between us—it’s thick and suffocating. We haven’t done anything in two weeks, and I crave her like a man starving for oxygen.
I flick the light switch on and shut the door behind us. Aspen cranes her neck back and stares up at me. Her big hazel eyes appear glassy, and I’m reminded of how much wine she had.
I want to make sure she understands that even though I want to fuck her, I didn’t intend to actually do so. Then again, maybe I did since I invited her back to my room.
“I didn’t invite you here tonight intending to get laid.”
“I’m sure you say the same to every girl.” Her mischievous grin is contagious, and when she reaches for the hem of her shirt, I know she’s decided.
She wants me in the same way I want her, and I’m not going to deny giving us both what we want. Not now, not ever. Reaching over my head, I grab the back of my T-shirt and pull it off, tossing it to the floor. We’re both shirtless except for the bra she’s wearing, which will be removed shortly. I move onto my pants, flicking the button on my jeans and pushing them down my thighs.
Aspen does the same, shoving her yoga pants down and breaking out into laughter when they get caught on her ankles and feet. Balancing from foot to foot, she falls back on my bed and tries kicking them off, but her efforts are short-lived, and I step in, grabbing her by the foot and tugging the material away.