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You’re rich and not unattractive. Lots of women would kill to be with you for free.”
    “Nothing’s free. It’s not me they want, it’s the money. I prefer to be upfront about my intentions.”
    “And your intentions are . . . ?” She looks me over, and I like the interest I see in her pretty hazel eyes.
    “Sex. I’m not looking to be tied down. Companionship is good, but I don’t like expectations.”
    She nods with understanding. “I can see that. And your work must keep you busy.”
    “It does.”
    I leave the dishes on the counter for Turner to see to tomorrow. Quinn is leaning against my large kitchen island, and I approach her, my blood pumping harder with every step.
    “You are exceptionally beautiful,” I say, feeling a little like a high school kid with a crush.
    She smiles, her perfect white teeth adding to her mystery. At some point, she obviously had braces and the best of dental care. It’s not just that, though. It’s also the set of her shoulders and the way she fearlessly holds my gaze. She could be wearing rags, and she’d still have an air of class.
    “Thanks,” she says. “It’s just the hair and makeup Dawson’s stylist did for me.”
    I step closer, shaking my head. “I have a feeling you’d be just as perfect straight out of the shower,” I say in a low tone. When I reach for her jawline and run my thumb across it, her eyes flutter closed for a split second.
    I let my fingertips graze over the creamy skin of her long neck, brushing past her soft, golden waves. Her eyes open wide and she stiffens.
    “What?” I ask softly, pulling my hand away. “You don’t like that?”
    She swallows and looks up into my eyes. “It’s hard. This is . . . harder than I thought it would be.”
    I step back, and she bites her lower lip and furrows her brow.
    “My instinct is to react like you’re going to choke me,” she admits. “No one ever touches me there. Or anywhere. Except . . . one person. I only let one person touch me.”
    A cloud of jealousy darkens over my field of vision. Who is this person who touches her, and how is he deserving? Clearly he doesn’t take care of her.
    “You have a boyfriend,” I say, surprised by how much that disappoints me.
    “No. I didn’t mean someone like that. It’s . . . my sibling.”
    “Oh.”
    I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the island next to her.
    “Sorry,” she says softly. “I know I’m not doing this right.”
    “Tell me more about your sibling,” I say. “Brother or sister?”
    “I can’t.” She turns to face me, tilting her face up until our eyes meet. The swirl of gold and green and brown in her eyes is mesmerizing. “I might feel more comfortable if . . . instead of you touching me first, can I touch you?”
    My lips part for just a second at the question. I feel a primal urge to reach for her hands and put them on me, to tell her that fuck yes, she can touch me . Anywhere. Everywhere. I want those slender fingers to explore the body I spend so much time honing in the gym.
    But instead, I just nod, trying my best not to scare her off. I don’t even mind this excruciatingly slow seduction. In fact, I’m fully erect in my suit pants right now.
    There are secrets in the depths of her eyes. I see pain and vulnerability there, laced with a strength that turns me on hard. Tonight, I get to show this intriguing, incredibly sexy woman that not everyone wants to hurt her.

Quinn
    I reach out tentatively, my eyes locked on Andrew as my palm meets his chest. The soft fabric of his shirt covers a taut, muscled chest. My fingers trail up and down, sliding over ridges of muscle.
    He’s strong. Fit. Masculine. All the things most twenty-one-year-old women find sexy in a man. And while I notice all this, am I turned on right now? Do I want him to whisk me off to the bedroom and rock my world?
    No.
    I’m out of my element, wearing these designer clothes and smelling like expensive perfume. How did I fall so low I’m