Every curve and line was perfection—the muscular thighs, the round ass, the narrow waist, the sculpted arms. Not that I was surprised. He’d quit modeling months ago, but he still worked out every day like it was his job. Then there were the gifts he was given—the things he didn’t even have to work for. The brain-melting blue eyes, the unforgivable symmetry of his features, the angle of his jaw, the flawless skin.
After dropping a kiss onto each of his biceps—for fuck’s sake, seriously?—he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, then left it there while the other slid down his rippled abdomen and into the front of his underwear.
My breath caught.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. Would he really go that far?
I was sweating, my entire body on edge. (At least my hiccups were gone.)
But what should I do? Give myself up?
A good person would, said my conscience.
Was I a good person?
You’re a drunk peeping Tom. All signs point to no.
So then I might as well see it through, right? After all, I’d made it this far. If I gave up now, he’d have something on me. And he’d have the upper hand. So maybe I’d call his bluff—see how far he’d actually go.
Great, now you’re a perv as well as a snoop.
Maybe I was, because when he moved behind the half-open bathroom door and turned the water on, I crawled out a little bit farther to try for a better look. Could I catch his reflection in the mirror? Or see him through the crack?
Suddenly his jeans came sailing out, landing with a dull thump right in front of me.
And then his blue boxer briefs.
But I had no time to freak out, because the door opened wide and Quinn appeared, holding his hands over his crotch like a fucking fig leaf.
I gasped.
“So,” he said, those blue eyes dancing. “Now what?”
Oh my fucking god.
The game of chicken…suddenly involved a cock.
Two
JAIME
You might wonder how a perfectly sane, well-educated, completely logical woman such as myself ended up trapped in a man’s closet.
I can explain.
When my brother Alex called and said he needed a favor, I thought he meant something for his upcoming nuptials, or as he liked to call it, “my big fat gay wedding.” He’s sort of like me in that he doesn’t like a lot of fuss or fanfare, but his boyfriend Nolan had his heart set on a huge, splashy spring affair, so that’s what they were having, come April fifth. (My brother is a much nicer person than I am.)
“What can I do for you?” My breath escaped my lips in silvery puffs as I crossed the frigid parking garage after work. It was about five o’clock, the earliest I’d left the office in two solid weeks, but it had been a long day and all I could think about was taking off my heels and pouring some wine. I still had work to do, but I could work from home. “Don’t tell me—Nolan wants drone photography.”
Alex laughed. “No.”
“A pair of llamas?” I switched my cell to the other hand and unlocked my car. “A hot tub? Ariana Grande?”
“Why, can you get Ariana Grande?”
“If I can, does that mean I don’t have to make a toast at the reception?”
“Nope.”
“Then no, I can’t.” I slid behind the wheel and shut the door. “But if you’d like any celebrities of the automotive industry to make an appearance, I’m your girl.”
Actually the marketing firm I worked for handled all kinds of clients, but since we were located in Detroit, many of them were businesses related to the auto industry. Was it the most glam job in the world? Not by a long shot, but I’d take grit over glitter any day.
“No, thanks. And anyway, it’s not about the wedding. It’s about the house.”
“Oh?” I backed out of my spot and began the wide spiral down to the exit.
“Yeah. I might have a tenant, if you’re OK with it.”
“Of course I am. Sorry I haven’t been more help with that. I know it stinks not to have rent coming in for downstairs. I was just so busy over the holidays, and then I had that huge presentation last week.”
“That’s OK. We’re all busy, and eventually I will need your help, since this solution is really only temporary.”
“Why’s that?” I swiped my pass at the gate and eased onto the street, frowning as someone jaywalked right in front of me.
“Because he only needs a place to stay for a month while his condo is being finished. He wasn’t supposed to move in until March first, but he leased his L.A. house starting first of the year. He’s been living in a hotel downtown for two weeks, but he’s sick of hotel living, hates the food and noise and how much it costs. Plus I think he’s kind of lonely. I’d have him stay with us, but with the wedding and everything, it’s really hectic at our house. And since the lower flat is already furnished, it seems like a perfect fit.”
Lonely? “Wait, do you know this guy?”
“Yeah. It’s…” He cleared his throat. Never a good sign. “It’s Quinn.”
I groaned.
“I know, I know, he’s not your favorite, for whatever reason—”
“The reason is that he was a cocky, condescending asshole to me. Other than that, he’s adorable.”
“Come on, it’s been ten years since the thing.”
My eyelid twitched. Did he have to bring it up?
“Look, I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it.”