“What the hell are you wearing?” he demands, positioning himself between Quinn and the guys at the beer pong table.
She frowns, a tiny wrinkle forming between her brows. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m Black Widow.”
A damn fine one. Her ass looks like a dream in that skinsuit.
I want to sink my teeth into it and never let go.
But I know better than to say that aloud.
Noah scoffs. “You couldn’t think of something a little more…” He waves a hand, gesturing to encompass the entirety of her.
She cocks a hip and crosses her arms, which only emphasizes the hint of cleavage revealed by the low-cut jumpsuit.
What I wouldn’t give to tug that zipper down.
Focus, DeLaurentis. This isn’t the time for R-rated fantasies.
“Dude.” I knock him on the shoulder. “If you’re going to shame anyone, it should be the pricks gawking at her ass like a bunch of pervs.”
Noah blinks. Then he turns to the guys gathered around the beer pong table. “The next person who looks at my sister’s ass is banned from the house for the rest of the semester!”
Now there’s a rule I can get behind.
Unfortunately, Quinn doesn’t agree. She huffs out a breath and rolls her eyes. “Cool it with the mantrum, Noah. I’m an adult, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Pretty sure he’s noticed, hence, the mantrum.
Not that I blame him. If Quinn was my sister—which, thank Christ, she’s not—I wouldn’t want this bunch of drunk assholes staring at any part of her.
I’m all for personal agency and I don’t want this night to end in ruin, so I clap Noah on the back and grin. “Relax man. I’ll keep the handsy douchebags at bay if you want to grab another beer.”
Works like a charm.
“Thanks.” He nods and turns to his sister. “Do me a favor and stay out of trouble, Quinntastrophe.”
Her cheeks flush as he disappears into the crowd.
“Forget about him.” I nudge her with my shoulder. “It’s the beer talking.”
“We both know that isn’t true.”
Yeah, we do, but Noah’s a dumbass and Quinn doesn’t need—or want—me fighting her battles, so I swat her on the ass instead. “Looks like we’re up.”
Her eyes go round, but her body language relaxes, Noah’s dig forgotten.
We approach the table and the winning team announces they’re going to take a break, making noise about needing to take a piss.
Quinn frowns at their retreating backs. “Do they really think Noah would ban them for the rest of the semester?”
“Evidently.” I smirk and drop my candy dish on the edge of the table. “Though I doubt Noah’s going to remember much of anything in the morning. I don’t think he got your hangover-resistant genes.”
Quinn laughs. It’s a full-throated belly laugh that’s sexy as hell and my cock stirs with interest.
“Can we get next game?” Parker shouts, rolling up the table with Vaughn at his side.
No one protests—which could be a result of Noah’s threat or a show of respect for today’s win over the Badgers—and we begin setting up the cups.
Quinn hands Parker a pitcher of beer and his eyes light up. “Dunk tank girl!”
