Page 84 of The Late Hit
“How was practice today?”
Propping my elbow on the table—I know, it’s not polite—I bring my hand under my chin and watch him. Seriously, I could kick my own ass for putting off these feelings that I didn’t realize I was snuffing out.
Grinning, Quinton answers. “B, it was kickass. I know I’ve been sayin’ this, but I feel like we are really going to make it happen. We’re ready.”
My hand reaches across the table, finding his. Turning his palm up, my hand slides over his. It’s a little awkward since our hands are opposite, but it still feels right. He runs his thumb across the side of my palm.
“I’m proud of you.”
It’s his turn to play bashful. “Thanks, Wilder.”
Dinner was perfect. Both of us are so full from the delicious surf and turf. Instead of getting back in the car, Quinton keeps walking past the parking lot.
“Uhh, Q, we parked in that lot.” Hiking my thumb over my shoulder, I gesture to the lot we just walked past.
Holding his hand out, I take it. “I’ve got another surprise for you.”
And with that, we make our trek down the road. We don’t get very far before Quinton is placing his hand on my hip, sliding me in front of him, and then stopping when I’m on the opposite side of him. He’s now between me and the sidewalk. I go to question him about the move, but he just looks down with a smirk and winks at me. Heart fluttering, I melt in a puddle. Right there. On the sidewalk. Quinton Boyd knows the sidewalk rule. Swoon.
It’s a short walk and I thank my lucky stars. These heels are cute, but they weren’t made for walking. My feet are used to the comfort of sneakers. Stopping outside of an old brick building, Quinton pulls open the heavy black door, ushering me inside. My ears are met with music. But not just any music.
Live music.
Shimmying my hips in excitement, I enter the building, throwing Quinton a subtle grin. Boy knows I love live music and dancing just as much as I love tequila shots and football games.
Sidling up behind me, his front brushes against my ass, and my senses instantly heighten. If I can help it, we won't be staying here long. Our bodies fight against the crowd in this packed bar. I’m shouldering us through as Quinton crowds me from behind.
“Well hot damn, if it isn’t Brynn Wilder.”
My head snaps in different directions, finding Quinton, with a puzzled look on my face. He gestures his head toward the stage—my mind realizes the voice came from the microphone.
Ecstasy is on stage.
I’m beaming from ear to ear.
“You look fine as fuck, girl. Bring your ass up here,” Max says in the microphone, gesturing the mic toward me. “Make room, people.”
The crowd starts looking around, trying to figure out who he’s talking to.
Before I make my way toward the stage, I turn back to Quinton, searching his eyes for any clues on how to proceed. Is it bad to go up front when I’m on a date? He doesn’t give me time to let my mind wander before he’s nudging me forward.
“Let’s go.” Turning around, I start making my way to the stage. Before we get to the front, I stop and spin on my heels. “Wait,” I ask. “Did you know they were performing?”
He beams down at me, and that’s all the answer I need.
Quinton Boyd planned the most perfect date for me.
A guitar riff rips through the air, and I immediately recognize the tune. Ecstasy starts their version of “Scotty Doesn’t Know,” and my body immediately starts moving to the beat. Quinton is right behind me, not missing a step as our bodies slide together.
His hands never leave mine the whole night. Skating over my exposed skin, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Our bodies are glued to each other, his front to my back. Ecstasy is playing banger after banger. I haven’t stopped moving to the beat since we got here.
Tonight has been the best night I’ve had in a long time. From dinner to watching my favorite band, Quinton knows how to plan a date. And now it’s time to get the hell out of here. I can’t take his lingering touches anymore. Either he gets me to his room, or I’m going to drag him to the nearest supply closet.
Mycheekshurtfromsmiling. It’s the best pain. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling all night. And my smile doesn’t falter as Quinton pulls his car into the garage.
Turning my head, I stare at his profile while he puts the car in park, and then his gaze slides over to find mine. We just spent the last however many hours dancing against each other, attempting to cool off with beer. Hormones are raging, and if I don’t get him inside and up to his room, I’m going to take matters into my own hands. Right here, right now, in this dimly lit garage.
Reading my thoughts, Quinton’s eyes darken. His smile slowly slips into one of pure lust. Raking his eyes down my body, heat spreads wherever his gaze travels. Wetness pools between my thighs.
