Chapter 16
Socially Distanced Sex
As Quinn was heading into the gym the next morning, Sarah and his mom were heading out.
Sarah gave him a chin lift and a cool look that had him wondering if he’d dreamed last night. “Hey, Sparky. How’d you sleep?”
“Like sh—sherbet. You?”
She smirked. “Like a log.”
His mom’s puzzled gaze bounced between them, but before she could ask, Sarah herded her upstairs.
Sassy Sarah was back in all her glory and set the tone for the day, with her defensive systems solidly locked into place and bristling. Jonesing for a repeat of the night before when she’d opened up to him, he tried to rekindle the magic as they cleaned up after dinner.
In the family room, his mom was safely ensconced on the couch, and he ventured in a hush, “So what made you fall for Wolf in the first place?”
Sarah came to a complete stop and glared at him as though he’d committed some huge faux pas, like asking her to lick his hockey gear clean. “Why?”
He twirled a fork before dropping it into the dishwasher silverware basket. “Just wondering. He’s a lot older.” He bit back a remark about the guy being too old to get it up more than once a week. “Is that what attracted you?”
Her face went rosy with a flush, though he couldn’t be sure if it was embarrassment or anger. Whatever the cause, it was a pretty color on her fair skin. “That was part of it.”
“And then, of course, there’s his ‘strong and sexy’ name.” Why this irked him, he had no clue.
“Yes. It went along with that older-man mystique,” she snorted.
“And I suppose Wolf was great in the sack.” Though he tried to hold it in, snark laced words he shouldn’t have even spewed. What the hell is wrong with me? A little voice blared that he was trying to knock Wolf down a peg or five, but he conveniently disregarded it.
“Oh God, yeah. Phew!” She fanned herself with her hand. “A very skilled lover, as only an older man can be. That’s probably the main reason I fell for him.”
Okay. Now she was just yanking his chain. Wasn’t she? The conversation had taken a decidedly uncomfortable turn—his fault—and he was anxious to steer it in a different direction. “How about we work a puzzle after Mom goes to bed?”
“Too dark.”
“Then let’s play poker tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Her head did a little shake-bob thing like she was trying to get a bug out of her ear. “What?” Light flared in her eyes. “Oh, I get it. No, I am not playing strip poker with you.”
He began buffing the counters to lock out the image of naked Sarah inviting him to explore all that skin—her wonderland. “I didn’t suggeststrip poker, Sunshine. Jesus, you think I’d want to play with my mom one short wing away?”
His mind lurched in a new direction: Was he as skilledas Wolf? Whatever that meant. Just as he wasn’t sure exactly what made him successful at picking up women, he was equally uncertain about his bedroom prowess. Were his cocksure assumptions based on reality or on what his admirers constantly fed him—and what he wanted to believe?
Another mental segue, and he was questioning whether he was just as guilty as Wolf. Quinn had used a lot of women over the years. Except they’d used him too. It was mutual, consensual, honest. As for Wolf, what he’d done wasn’t right. On so many levels. Dude was married, and he’d lied to Sarah. He’d sucked her into an affair while withholding facts she should have had in the beginning in order to make an informed decision.
Sarah twisting her head and peering up at him brought him back to the here and now. He must have still been frowning because her next words were, “Aw, is widdle Quinnie Winnie upset? C’mon. Don’t sulk. Let’s do this so I can beat your ass—ets in poker too.”
“You’re such a—” Flustered, he threw down the kitchen towel and stalked away. Behind him, Sarah’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I didn’t mean …”
Whoa. She called me “Quinn.” He didn’t register the rest of what she said because he was halfway down the hall and out of earshot, wondering how to stop comparing himself against Wolf. In his room, he stomped around the perimeter like a little bitch before he laced his hands on top of his head and blew out a series of lung-filling breaths, trying to blunt the spikes in his chest.
His phone vibrated—hisother phone—and he checked the screen. Dallas. One of his favorite hotties. He answered with a “Hey, Theresa,” before thinking through actually speaking with Theresa.
“Hi, Quinn,” came her breathy voice. Only right now it bordered on squeaky. “Been thinking about you, lover boy.”
His automaton self kicked into gear, and his lips tipped up in a half-smile. “Oh yeah? And what have you been thinking?”
“About you and me and—”
“You know I can’t come see you right now, right? I mean, with the virus?”
“You can’t fly down here for a day or two? I could fly up there. I miss you,” she purred.
“Can’t, sweetheart. Team rules.” Not really, but she wouldn’t know any different.
“Oh, I hate this virus!” Her voice had taken on a pouty quality. Pouty and squeaky. “I’m missing my favorite man. Guess I’ll have to settle for talking to him—and doing other things with him on the phone. I’m wearing a special outfit. Want to see?” Her voice shifted into sexy mode. He pictured her in something sheer and small as she twirled her blond strands, but oddly, it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him.
His mother’s words about getting to know the women in his life ricocheted around in his brain. “Keep me guessing for right now, sweetheart.” He plopped onto the edge of his bed. “What have you been up to?”
Her tone took on a surprised quality. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what have you been doing? Are you
