Page 61 of Quinlan

That was then, though.

The heart tattoo on my cheek feels like a wound. Or is it that my heart is pounding all over my body, stretching my skin?

“Hello?” I answer without even looking at the caller ID. “Mom?”

“Umm.” A choked laugh greets me. A woman’s. “I hope not?”

I bring the screen up to my eyes, blinking at it. “Ray?”

“Yes.” A sweet chuckle follows. I’m beating myself over not recognizing her sooner. “Not Mom.”

“What’s up?” A few horrifying seconds and I’m already sweating. I drop my head back to the pillow, throwing the duvet off me.

That’s better. The cool air of the room on my body. I needed that. I—

What the hell?

Did I forget to put my panties on after the shower?

“I’m good.” She sounds relaxed.

Definitely not confused, like me.

The duvet rustles on the bed when I throw the rest off me.

Where are my panties?

It’s possible I stripped them in my sleep. I did have a very, very dirty dream.

My horny subconscious brought all the men I’d met over the last week to me at night.

One pair of sapphire blue eyes smirked at me. Tore my T-shirt off my body and bit my nipple so hard I cried.

Inquisitive amber eyes sparked when Liam advanced on me next. He held his Zippo close to his face. The flames flickered across his features before he positioned it between my thighs. Not close enough to burn me. Close enough to make me squirm. The danger felt good.Hefelt good.

Then the dark, dangerous blues or Rome. His harsh grip on my chin turned into a hand collar. His fingers were a gag, shoved down my throat.

In my dream, they knew each other. In my dream, they used me exactly how I wanted them to. Relieving myself of my panties in real life isn’t that farfetched.

“Quinlan, you there?”

“I am.” My panties aren’t.

They’re nowhere to be found. No soaked, scrunched fabric on my white sheets. Nothing on the floor. Only dampness between my thighs. I throw my feet off the bed and drop to my knees.

Maybe they’re under the bed. I must look hilarious. My ass bare and up, phone pinned between my ear and shoulder as I scour for my panties with my ass out. “Sorry. You were saying?”

Weird. No panties there, either.

For the first time this morning, I realize this whole situation is bizarre.

Even this phone call. My neighbor and I hardly ever talk over the phone. We bump into each other on the elevator and make plans. Or we knock on each other’s doors with wine.

What’s going on here?

“No worries,” she says. “I probably woke you up, and here I am, talking your ear off.”

Could be I’m in the wrong. That I didn’t put on my panties after I showered last night. I had a lot on my mind.

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