Free Liam Davis & The Raven by Anyta Sunday Page A

whispered again in my ear. He plucked the notebook and pen from my suddenly limp hands, stuffing my much-needed distractions into his back pocket.
    “Turn over. Up on your knees.”
    Thump!
    This one was so loud, Quinn flung his arm over me, half curling onto me as if to protect me from falling bed slats.
    “ I could fuck you like this all fucking night.”
    “Christ, please don’t,” Quinn whispered against the back of my neck, where his face was pressed.
    “Do you like this? Do. You. Like. This?”
    Not particularly. Though I found it somewhat fascinating just how much fun the two of them seemed to be having. Sure I’d had sex before, but it was usually a quieter affair. Perhaps I’d just been with the wrong girl?
    What would Hannah be like if we decided to pursue something?
    Oh–oh-oh-oh!
    The slats jumped and slammed and groaned, and Quinn pressed against me tighter until the groans and cries peaked, and the bed banged one last time against the wall. A shuddering cry ripped out of the male, dissipating into softer pants as they both caught their breath.
    It was a stiff few minutes until —thank the heavens!—the two lovers slipped back into their clothes and returned to the ball.
    Quinn and I waited no more than thirty seconds —just to be sure they wouldn’t come back—before we scrambled out from under the bed.
    Quinn peeled off a stiff sock from his side, and we ushered ourselves out of the room.
    As soon as we were in the hall, I snatched my notebook and pen from Quinn’s back pocket, making him jump. “Just wanted these back,” I said, shoving them back into place.
    With a stiff nod and a stiffer walk, Quinn led the way out of the dorm.
    Outside, I gulped down the cool air as we made our way from Beckman Hall to the street. Transitioning from the most unwelcome noise pollution to the still and quiet night wasn’t as refreshing as I’d hoped. “One thing we are good at,” I said, walking faster to beat off the chill, “is finding ourselves in awkward situations.”
    “Yeah, well,” Quinn said, tugging my sleeve to stop. I hugged myself for warmth as he caught my gaze. “Here’s another awkward moment coming up.”
    I rubbed my upper arms. “What’s that?”
    Quinn pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and gestured toward the car in front of us. “You’re cold. Jump in. I’ll give you a lift home.”
    I was cold (and still nervous walking home on my own since the Freddy incident), so I accepted the offer. Slipping into the passenger seat of the car, I buckled up. “Was that supposed to be the awkward moment?”
    Quinn settled into his seat and gripped the steering wheel. “No,” he said. “The awkward part is when I ask you again if you forgive me for being such a prick last weekend.”
    “Oh,” I said, looking out onto the dark street, peppered with streetlights. How many Freddies lurked in the shadows? I shivered. Focus on the forgiving-Quinn-the-prick conversation! “You want us to start over?”
    He shifted. “Uh, yeah.”
    “I don’t see what there is to start, but okay. I’m sure we can forget last week.” I studied his flushed face, clubbed ears, and thick lashes. A thought struck me as I took in his strong, Thor-like build. “Are you still apartment-less?”
    “I’m staying at Shannon’s.”
    “Right. ” We stared at each other a moment longer. Even with him a good couple feet away, I still felt tingling where he’d been pressed up against me. “Are we going to get moving anytime soon?” I asked. “I have some notes to convert into a column.”
    He started the car, murmuring something under his breath with a roll of his eyes, and drove me to my place.
    I spent the ten- minute drive noting Quinn’s silence and the way his breath kept hitching as if he wanted to say something. When I stepped out of the car, I braced one hand on the roof, the other clenched around the top of the door. I looked over at Quinn. “You want to ask if the room is still free,