Page 85 of Playboy For Hire

I wanted Quinn so badly. And having sex hadn’t changed that. If anything, it just made me want him more.

But it also made me feel vulnerable. I was so undone by him. His beauty. His confidence. The way he seemed to want me, to pull me ever closer.

I wanted that too, more than I’d ever wanted anyone else, and that terrified me.

I was a college student with no job prospects. I struggled with schoolwork, couldn’t be trusted with responsibilities, and disappointed the people who were supposed to love me most.

How long would it be before Quinn saw that, and left? He was five years older. He had a law degree, a real job and real life. There was no way this could last.

I remembered the night Molly had broken up with me. She’d said we had different priorities. That our lives were going in different directions. She might as well have just come out and said I was too dumb to keep up with her and her friends.

I’d heard through the grapevine that she was going to graduatesumma cum laudethis year. She’d double-majored in economics and chemistry. She was getting a master’s degree at Harvard, and spending the summer interning at a research hospital.

I hadn’t been good enough for her. I wouldn’t be good enough for Quinn either. And that hurt.

As much as I tried not to let my parents’ obvious regrets get to me, I was still their kid. I still wanted their approval. And they never gave it. I didn’t want to care anymore, but I did, and it ripped me apart.

Quinn saw that. He’d stuck up for me. Said I was good.

But he hadn’t said the words I longed to hear.You’re smart. You’re capable. You’re talented. I want to show you off to the world. I want to tell everyone I meet that I’m with you.

Quinn was sweet, but he was also honest. He wasn’t going to say something he didn’t believe.

I pushed up onto my elbow, studying his face. He looked so peaceful, so at ease as he slept. I wanted to mold myself to his body, to show him how much I wanted him. Needed him.

Loved him?

Fuck, this was bad. I ached for him, but I ached for myself too. I was sick of not measuring up. Sick of opening myself up, only to get hurt, over and over again.

I loved Quinn. But that would never be reciprocated. And I needed to protect myself before things got worse.

I didn’t get a wink of sleep that night. I was too wired. Too scared. Too depressed. And it was torture, lying next to him, holding him, knowing it would be the last time.

When Quinn began shifting in bed the next morning, the clock said it was only seven. But when he slipped out of bed without saying anything to me, I was relieved. He was doing the same thing I’d done, that first night at his apartment. He was sneaking out. I closed my eyes and let it happen.

It hurt, him leaving without saying goodbye. But I knew it needed to happen. I just wished I could have held onto the fantasy a little longer.

When I heard the front door close, I sat up, feeling drained and depressed. I rubbed at my eyes, grainy from lack of sleep. The sun slanting through the blinds was giving me a headache.

God, I wanted to sleep for the next five years. But I knew if I stayed in bed, I’d just ruminate and drive myself crazier. No, what I needed was to get up, go to the gym, and put my body through the hardest workout I could manage. I needed to be so tired I couldn’t even think about Quinn.

I stumbled to the bathroom and popped two ibuprofen, washing them down with a glass of water. I brushed my teeth—we’d been too distracted to do that last night—then padded downstairs. I needed a gallon of coffee and a protein bar.

I started the coffee maker, grabbed a bar, then walked to the stairs to go up and change into gym clothes. I was just passing the front door when it opened, and Quinn appeared, holding two cups of coffee in his hand and something wrapped in plastic in his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, utterly confused.

He said something incomprehensible around the thing in his mouth. Then he shook his head and removed it, clutching it in his hand.

“I got some coffee for us,” he said. “Here, this one’s yours.”

He held the cardboard cup out to me. All I could do was stare at it, trying to process what it meant. I’d thought Quinn was gone. It had hurt, but it was better than this. Better than him being nice and dragging this out. Better than the two of us trying to make this work, only for him to realize later he needed more than I could give.

I never wanted to see Quinn’s eyes fill with the same disappointment I saw from my parents, from Molly, from everyone else I’d ever been close to. But there was only one way to make sure I didn’t.

“When I didn’t see you this morning, I thought you’d left,” I said slowly. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them. “I wish you had.”

“What?” He looked like he hadn’t heard me correctly.

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