He rolled her onto her back and settled on top of her, kissing her cheeks, her nose, the line of her jaw. But then his lips settled on her neck, and the sweetness of the moment morphed into something else entirely. Suddenly, it was all heat and need again.
“If you need me to prove that I’m Quentin Darcy,” he said, “There’s only one way to do that.”
“Your pants are a little far away for you to be showing me your driver’s license.”
He frowned, clearly not appreciating her humor. “I was thinking more along the lines of having someone vouch for me…I thought, if you wanted to go, I’d take you home.”
“To your fancy condo?”
“No…to my family’s home,” he said. “Dinner with Mia and Bennett? Maybe get Clayton and Annalee to come over and bring the munchkin.”
Panic. That was the only word to describe what she felt. He wasn’t just talking about showing her the house. He was talking about introducing her to his family. Yes, sure, she knew them. Fontaine was the kind of town where everyone knew everyone. But he was staking a claim, he was willing to state openly and to everyone who was important in his life that she was too.
“Slow your roll, Ace,” she said. “I don’t think that any of us are ready for that.”
“I’m not thinking about this stuff anymore, Lowey. I just want to do what feels right.”
“And it feels right to you to take me to meet your family?” she demanded.
“It feels right to me to stop hiding the fact that we’re together.”
Together. That was a loaded statement, she thought. It implied things that she wasn’t quite sure he could manage. “But we’re not together…not really.”
He kissed her again, his beard rasping over her skin in a way that made her shiver. “Meeting my family seems to be a good first step. Come with me, Lowey.”
“Jesus! It’s like we’re in fucking middle school again!”
“When you were in middle school…well, it wouldn’t have been illegal, but it would have been seriously questionable for me to be having these kinds of thoughts about you.”
She laughed at that, unable to help herself. “If they hate me,” she finally managed, “It’s on you.”
“They won’t hate you. Me…I’m not so sure about. I did have an epic redneck brawl on the front lawn Thanksgiving Day. I’m in the doghouse.”
She pushed him away and sat up. “If we’re going, I need to shower and get ready before I change my mind.”
Quentin rolled onto his back and watched her as she moved around the room. It was mundane, really. She gatheredclothes from the closet, toiletries from the bag on the dresser. But she was doing it all buck naked, and there was nothing better than watching her move when she didn’t have a stitch on.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, saw him watching and made a face. “Pervert.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Laughing, he rolled to his side as she tossed a shoe at him. “Be nice,” he admonished. “I’m on the injured list.”
That prompted an eye roll from her. “Judging by our earlier activities, you’re not that injured.”
“Oh, I am,” he said. “But with the right incentive, I can power through.”
“And on that note, I’m getting in the shower.” She paused, looking back at him, and added, “Alone.”
He was still chuckling as she closed the bathroom door firmly behind her. Sitting up, he winced as his ribs reminded him just how hard his half brother could punch and reached for his discarded pants. After digging his cell from the pocket, he started to text Mia. They hadn’t spoken since he’d Jerry Springer-ed her Thanksgiving. Deciding that a phone call and a well-timed apology were more likely to get him what he wanted, he dialed her number instead.
She answered quickly, and her response was pretty much as expected. “You’re an asshole,” she said flatly.
“We are in total agreement,” he offered. “I’m sorry I ruined your big holiday plans. It was a dick move.”
Her heavy sigh was all he needed. She’d forgive him. Mia’s downfall was that she was always too forgiving. At least it worked in his favor.
“What do you want, Quentin? You wouldn’t be calling and apologizing if there wasn’t something in it for you.”
