Burn (19 page)

“There’s no discussion here, Quinn, you’re coming!” Chelsea’s voice is her usual chipper, sunshiny self on the other end of the line, and I can’t help but grin at my youngest sister’s seemingly boundless supply of positive energy.

“Seriously, thanks for the invite, but there’s no way I’m going to a
college party
, Chels.”

“You make it sound like its some kind of frat party, Quinn! It’s being thrown by some of the graduate students anyways, there’ll be plenty of people there your age.”

I’ve got my phone on speaker, and Reagan snorts next to me as I roll my eyes.
My age
. I’m fucking twenty-seven for crying out loud.
 

“Besides, Reagan told me you could use a night out.”

I whip my head to glare at my other sister as she shakes her head side-to-side; “I didn’t say a
word
about
that!
” she whispers quickly as I frown at her.

“Yeah, Chels, she needs it,” She says louder for our sister to hear.

“See? Come
on
, Quinn, come have some fun.”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about our youngest sister, its that she is
deceivingly
hard to say no to; “Are
you
coming to this debacle too?” I say sarcastically to Reagan.

“I’m
pregnant
, Quinn. No, I won’t be coming to the frat party.”

“Guys, it’s
not
a frat party!” Chelsea huffs over the line; “Quinn,
please?
I promise you’re going to have fun.”

Reagan is nodding at me with a big shit-eating grin on her face and I already know I’ve lost this battle; “Fine, but if I see
one
keg-stand or a single Greek letter, I’m out, got it?”

*****

“Ok, I’m officially
way
too old to be here.”
 

Alright, it’s not like I’m the oldest person in the room or anything, it’s just that the general vibe is a far cry from the occasional one drink with coworkers or the more typical wine and Netflix that usually occupies my free Friday nights.

My sister rolls her eyes; “You are
not
.”

“Chelsea, I could have babysat some of these kids.”

“Well, you babysat
me
!” She says, grinning at me.

“
Not
helping, but thanks,” I grumble as she laughs and drags us into the crowd.

To her credit, the party is definitely a step above anything I remember from my own college experience. It’s at some nice off-campus house instead of a dorm-room, and we’re wearing
name tags
for crying out loud;
name tags.
Parties
I
went to in college involved yelling your name to someone over loud music. But at Chelsea’s graduate program
soirée
, they’ve got sticker name tags and light jazz. The party even has an actual bartender pouring drinks instead of the "help yourself" style kegs and punch bowls I remember from school. OK, so he's pouring
crappy
drinks, but hey, it’s a step in the right direction.

“You may
notice
a lack of keg, if you can see that far down from your tower, Quinn,” Chelsea says, smirking at me. Suddenly she arches a brow and lowers her voice; “Uh, and speaking of ‘noticing’, there’s a tall dark and handsome over there noticing
you
right now.” I turn to see a clean-cut, good-looking older guy with a beer in his hand quickly look away. Chelsea is wagging her eyebrows at me when I turn back, and she winks at me conspiratorially; “I’m going to go, uh,
find my friends
.”

“No, Chels-!”
 

“Try to have some fun, OK, Quinn?” She grins at me before peeling away and pushing her way through the crowd.

Great
, I grumble to myself;
thanks, sis.
I mean, granted, the whole point of tonight was a little distraction and to clear my head of
Logan
, but it’s not like I came here looking for
that
kind of attention anywa-

"Please tell me you're not a student here."

I turn, started by the richly English-tinted accent behind me, and immediately blush at the steely-grey eyes looking intently into my own.

"Because I'm pretty sure I can't buy you a drink or try and get your number at some point if you are." He winks at me, and I can't help but feel a little thrill at it.

Uh, woah.

He’s attractive, in that sort of chemistry teacher way, and that accent is
certainly
hitting all the right points with me.“Uh, no, actually” I stammer awkwardly; "
Definitely
not a student."

"Oh thank God," He says with that charmingly English accent and an even more charming smile; "I suppose that means I can buy you that drink then."

I can't help but grin back at him, feeling my cheeks burn; "I suppose it does, thanks-" I look down at the name-tag sticker on the lapel of his jacket; "Ryan.”

He chuckles and holds his hand out; “I’ve been getting ‘Professor Smalls’ all night, but Ryan sure works too. Quinn is it?" He says, peering at my own name tag as I shake his hand.

“A Professor at a student party, huh?" I smile as I raise a brow at him.

He glances quickly around with a mock seriousness; “Yeah, just don’t let the faculty find out, OK?” I raise my eyebrows before he stops and grins at me; “It’s a graduate student thing; I’m totally fine to be here.” He smiles at me; “Plus now I’ve got someone else over the age of twelve to talk to.”

We talk, and I’m
listening
to him, but I’m also stuck inside my own head trying
very hard
not to think about how this man is everything Logan isn’t. Logan Dempsey is cocky, and arrogant, and inappropriate, and vulgar. The man buying me a glass of wine and chatting me up here tonight is sweet, and kind, and charming - and not in that
cocksure
way Logan is. Sure, he’s a little fumbling, but at least he’s not giving me that
look
that Logan gives me when he flashes
that
grin at me.
 

Of course, it’s that exact cocky grin that gets me so heated around Logan; its that
look
that has me hot and wet and wanting him more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. The thought sticks with me, and I quickly take a sip of wine, nodding at whatever Ryan is saying.
Is
that the reason I can’t seem to cut Logan loose from my thoughts? Is the fact that he talks to me in ways no man ever has, or the fact that he’s
rough
and
dominant
with me that has me practically begging on my knees for him; sometimes quite
literally
? I mean,
God
, here I am in a place I
belong
making quiet, intellectual conversation with a kind,
much more
appropriate man like Ryan, and all I can think about is
Logan
. Ryan Smalls is here in his nice, quiet, proper tweed jacket with conversation about literature and current politics, but all I can think about is a shirtless Logan Dempsey with the ink of his bare skin glistening with sweat as he jabs and hooks around a circle of jeering onlookers. The man across from me is smiling at me and asking me
pleasant
questions about my job, but all I can imagine is Logan’s chiseled body, and that arrogant, sexy mouth opening wide to tell me
exactly
what he wants to do to me.

What is
wrong with me
?

“So then I said, ‘Hey, if we keep talking about Charlotte Bronte, and I’m gonna need some
Erye
’!”

I force a laugh out as Ryan doubles over at his own pun, and I’m just starting to think that
maybe
if I have enough wine, I can start to get Logan out of my head when the voice behind me drags me right back into reality.

“Oh hey,
there
you are, babe!”

I gasp and whirl at the sound of Logan Dempsey’s voice, and my jaw practically hits the floor as I see him, in the flesh, sauntering through the crowd towards me; “Hey, sorry I’m late, just got caught up at the hospital.” I’m standing there in absolute shock as he drapes an arm casually over my shoulder before kissing me on the cheek; “Hey bud,” He sticks his hand abruptly into Ryan’s face; “Dr. Jack Hoff, how’s it going?”

Ryan looks completely startled before he quickly and awkwardly shakes Logan’s hand; “Oh, uh, yes, hello.” He looks quickly between my face and Logan’s before smiling awkwardly at me; “I’m- uh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Yeah, she gets that a lot, don’t you, honey?” Logan kisses my cheek again in this thoroughly
un-Logan
way before turning that shark-like grin back on Ryan; “I mean she just
doesn’t
look like an engaged woman, does she?”

I’m going to kill him,
I think as my face turns dark red;
I’m actually going to kill him.

“Well, I should- Uh, I should go find myself another drink!” Ryan smiles awkwardly at me again before he excuses himself.

“What the fuck is
wrong
with you!” I hiss, turning to Logan and shoving him away from me. I squint and shake my head at the sophomoric ‘Dr. Jack Hoff’ scrawled across the sticker on his chest; “
Jack Hoff
? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Yeah I thought ‘Seymour Butts’ would be a little too overt.” He grins; “Hey, it scared
that guy
away, so I guess it worked.”

“
That guy
was
nice
, Logan; you should
try
‘nice’ sometime yourself.”

He looks thoroughly amused and totally pleased with himself; “Oh,
comon
, that guy was a creep!”

He grins at me, and I narrow my eyes at him; “How the hell did you know I was here?”

He chuckles to himself; “Money buys all sorts of things, Quinn.”

I open my mouth and stare at him; “What, like
tracking devices
! Are you fucking
following me
, Logan?!”

He spreads his hands like
anything
I’m saying is some sort of false accusation; “Do I
look
like a psychopath, Quinn? No, I mean money buys all sorts of things like the pint of mint chocolate chip ice-cream I used to bribe Reagan into spilling where you were tonight.”

I make a mental note to give my sister a serious piece of my mind for selling me out for some fucking
ice cream
.
Way to completely live up to that ‘crazy pregnant lady’ stereotype, Reagan,
I grumble to myself; “Why the hell are you here?”

Logan crabs a glass of wine off a passing tray and shrugs before taking a big sip; “To save you from douchebags like that guy!”

“He’s a
Professor
here,
actually
.” I say primly.

“Quinn, he’s a teacher at a fuckin student party.”

“So? He-“

“So, that’s got predator written all over it. Ten bucks says he wanted you to wear a school girl outfit and call him ‘Teach’ later.

I roll my eyes; “You’re disgusting.”

He grins wickedly at me; “Says the girl about to go suck ‘Teach’s’
D
for a
A.
”
 

“Don’t be crude.” I say, wrinkling my face in disgust.

“Oh, you love it.”

I’m gritting my teeth and turning away from him when I realize Chelsea is standing right across the room chatting with some friends of her. I whirl back to Logan; “You need to get out of here!” I hiss.

He shakes his head; “No way, I just got here. Plus I promised some football-player guys out front that I’d take ‘em for a spin in the Maybach later.”

I give him a look; “You drove a four-hundred-thousand dollar car to a college party?” I roll my eyes; “Not a big fan of subtlety, are you?”

I gasp as his hand openly grabs my ass through my skirt, giving me a lingering and firm squeeze that has me shivering; “Nope.” He says, smirking at me.

“Logan!” I hiss, darting my eyes around the crowded room; “
Chelsea’s
here!”

His hand stays right where it is though, firmly cupping my butt; “Well, you should probably get your ass away from my hand then, Archer.”

I can feel my pulse start to jump as I stand there with Logan’s hand on me. On the one side, part of me is actually
so
ok with him touching me like that, but the other part of me is glancing wildly around the party just
waiting
for my sister to walk up to see Logan Dempsey
at
this party with his hand on my ass and put two and two together.

I start to squirm away from him, but I suddenly gasp as Logan’s other hand comes right around the front of me and cups me
right
over my pussy.

“
Are you fucking for real?!
” I hiss at him, squirming against his firm hands holding me in the front and the back right in the middle of this crowded room of strangers. There’s a horrible feeling of arousal actually start to tingle inside of me at his touch.

Thanks, body; who’s fucking side are you on, anyways?

“Quinn, jeez, quit touching me already,” He grins at me, keeping his face a mask of neutral concern as his fingers begin to
stroke
me through my skirt and my panties, over the crack of my ass and over the front of my sex, making me roll my hips almost unconsciously against him.

“
Seriously
,” I hiss; “Stop it!”

I’m biting my lip, trying not to actually fucking
moan
in this crowd of strangers, when I look up and just about jump out of my skin. Chelsea is
right
in the other room, her back to me, but still only about twenty-five feet away.