“I want to, but—”
“No buts. I have a plan.” One that doesn’t involve hotels and wine and too much damn pressure. “You can trust me, Quinn. Just say the word.”
She nods, green eyes glittering with conviction. “Yes.”
30
QUINN
I can’t believeI’m doing this—again.
For the love of God, please let me lose my virginity in spectacular fashion tonight.
Well, not too spectacular. I want orgasms, not ER visits, which have ruled my thoughts for the last five days. But now it’s Saturday night and I’m standing at Cooper DeLaurentis’s front door, prepared to lose my virginity once and for all.
There’s no going back.
Not that I’d want to.
Last Saturday may have ended in disaster, but everything leading up to it was*chef’s kiss*.
Coop may not do strings, but what he lacks in commitment he more than makes up for with his mouth. And his fingers. And those rock-hard abs.
And, okay, yes, if I’m being honest, he’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being a cockblocking jackass.
Which, I’m learning, is more often than not.
Nerves grip my stomach, twisting it in knots as I stare up at the nondescript townhouse.
College Park Apartments is a popular complex among student athletes, but it’s my first time here. The community is a winding maze of apartment buildings and townhouses, but I’m pretty sure I’m in the right place because Coop’s Audi is parked out front.
I raise my hand and knock before I can second guess myself.
Several seconds tick by and doubt creeps up my spine.
The townhouse is dark. There’s no light in the windows, not even the soft blue glow of a tv screen.
Maybe Coop changed his mind. Or maybe I got the time wrong.
Shit. What if I’m at the wrong apartment?
Yeah, because they always give two units the same number.
I glance at the sign above the door.
Eleven fifty-seven.
There’s a quiet shuffling inside and a loudthwackas the lock is thrown back.
A bead of sweat rises between my breasts and I silently curse my stupid nerves as the door opens, revealing Coop’s smiling face.
His hair is damp, and he’s dressed casually in gray sweatpants and a navy Wildcats t-shirt, which is a relief since I also dressed for comfort in leggings and a Waverly U hoodie.
“Sorry.” He rakes a hand through his hair, pushing the wet strands back from his forehead. “I was in the shower.”
“No worries.”
He turns, swinging the door wide.
