Chapter 15

The car ride back to my apartment was filled with a comfortable silence. Gone was the tension from the restaurant encounter, replaced by a newfound sense of ease between Quinton and me. We talked about movies, his family business (which, to my surprise, he'd opted out of in favor of pursuing his own ventures), and our hopes for the future. He listened attentively, his eyes crinkling at the corners when I made a joke, his laughter a warm rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.
By the time we reached my building, the late-night cityscape shimmered outside the car window, a tapestry of twinkling lights and inky shadows. Pulling into the familiar curb, Quinton turned to me with a playful glint in his eyes.
"Well, here we are," he said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Home sweet home, as they say."
"Thanks for the ride," I replied, a smile tugging at my lips. "It was… unexpected, to say the least."
He chuckled, the sound echoing through the quiet car. "Unexpected in a good way, I hope?"
"Surprisingly so," I admitted, unable to deny the spark that had ignited during our encounter.
He leaned closer, his gaze holding mine for a beat too long.
"Tell you what," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Invite me up."
My breath hitched at the unexpected request. Having Quinton so close, in my own small apartment, was a prospect that sent a jolt through me. But before I could voice my surprise, a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes.
"Or," he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, "you could be bold and invite me to stay the night. "
My cheeks burned as the playful challenge hung in the air.
I forced a smile, meeting his gaze head-on.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Quinton," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the rapid thrumming of my heart. "But sure...just don't expect much."
He threw his head back and laughed. "You don't have a washer. I wouldn't expect anything."
We stepped out of the car and made our way up the familiar stairwell. Unlocking my apartment door, I ushered him inside, a nervous flutter in my stomach. The place looked small and cramped compared to the opulence of Quinton's condo, but it was mine.
He cast a curious glance around the room, his gaze lingering on the movie posters adorning the walls. Then, his eyes landed on the small collection of graphic novels tucked away under my bed. He bent down and retrieved one, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
The book was a single issue of a popular series, featuring a character known for his smoldering good looks and seductive charm. My cheeks burned, a mixture of amusement and embarrassment flooding my face.
"Looks like you secretly like this kind of pure yet seductive character, huh?" Quinton teased, his voice low and husky. He raised his eyebrow playfully, sending another jolt of heat through me.
"Hey!" I protested, reaching for the book. "That's… research material. For a future role, of course."
He chuckled again, the sound warm and inviting. "Of course," he said, holding the book over his head and away from me. "Research for a role, you say? You could at least come up with a better lie than that."
A blush scorched my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and something more primal. Before I could form a coherent response, I lunged for him trying to get the book back. He was quicker though, tossing it over his shoulder and shoving me back on the bed. I landed hard, and suddenly, the air changed. The playful banter had vanished, replaced by a simmering intensity that sent shivers down my spine. I tried to stand, but he pushed me back and reached for the button on my jeans.
"Wait," I stammered. This wasn't part of the plan.
He didn't. He yanked my jeans and pants off. Before I could slide away, he climbed over me.
"Quinton--"
He slipped his other hand beneath my shirt, his touch sending a cascade of goosebumps erupting across my skin. His fingers grazed the sensitive skin of my bare back. I tried to push him off, but then, my shirt was over my head.
"Quinton, stop."
He didn't. He pinned me down, fumbling with the button of his pants. I tried to push at him, but he didn't move. He was too big. He moved with a practiced confidence.
I grabbed the nearest blanket, draping it over our lower bodies before the situation escalated further. The fabric, thin cotton, was a flimsy barrier against the heat radiating from his body, but it was enough to create a small pocket of privacy.
"Shy, are we?" he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "After everything I've done to you?"
"This wasn't the plan," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"Plans can change," he said, his voice a seductive rasp. He trailed his fingers along the exposed skin, sending shivers down my spine. "Especially after everything I've done for you tonight."
He yanked the blanket off me. Moments later, he was thrusting into me in one smooth thrust. I choked on the sudden intrusion.
"You're so wet. I knew you'd be like this."
I didn't know what to do, what to say. My heart was in my throat. All I could do was close my eyes and try not to think too much about it.
Was it so bad? He wasn't...
He wasn't hurting me, exactly. And that thing with Mark.
He groaned. "I hope you get pregnant this time. I'd marry you if you did."
I pushed his words away, trying to enjoy it as much as I could.
It was dawn before I realized it. I felt a bit like I was on set. I remembered moaning, all the right moves, the gasping, but I was cold. We lay tangled in the sheets, the weight of what had transpired settling heavily upon me. Quinton fell asleep moments after. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom searching for the Plan B pills I always made sure to have.
I took one and sank down wondering what on earth I was doing.
Maybe I should just apply at Mark's company.