Page 30 of The Boyfriend Material Novellas

“Also, I should probably give your brother a heads-up. Since it’s the right thing to do. Are you cool with that?”

She laughs. “Let’s tell him now,” she says, grabbing her phone. “Group chat?”

I shrug happily. “Let’s do it.” I search for my phone while she taps out a text then sends it. He replies before I can even unlock my screen.

Quinn:Hi. Vaughn is hot and sweet and awesome. I’m going to date him. If you were Amy, I’d think you planned it, with all those phone calls you took at dinner when I met him, but since you’re you, I know it was accidental. So, thanks for hating parties.

Josh:You’re right. I don’t have a matchmaking bone in my body. And you’re always welcome for the party hatred. Also, good choice in men.

Vaughn:Aren’t we all so adult and mature. Everyone deserves a gold star.

Quinn and I toss our phones onto the pillow, and she grins at me. “Told you.”

I kiss her nose. Then pull back to look at her. “So does that mean you’re mine for the holidays?”

“I’m yours.”

“Good, then I’d really like to have you again.”

And I do, that night then in the morning too.

And we make plans.

Plans make her happy. They make me happy too, because they mean I’m going to see her.

A lot of her.

Like a few nights later.

We walk up Fifth Avenue after dinner, checking out store displays and talking about family. I tell her about Callie and Danny and how excited I am to see them over Thanksgiving and then on a more regular basis when I live in Miami.

“That’s great that you’ll get to see them so frequently,” she says. “I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t see Amy whenever I wanted to. You should meet her.”

My heart thumps a little harder, thrilled that she brought it up. I squeeze her hand. “I’d love to.”

We go to her place that night, where we test out the strength of her kitchen counter.

“I can feel you so far in me,” she says, gasping.

She loves it when I hook her legs around my waist. When I take her deep. When I bring her down hard on me.

“That. When you do that,” she moans.

“I’ll do whatever you need, whatever you want to get you there.”

“You. I want you.”

She loves it, too, when I thread my hand through her hair and kiss her neck as I bring her to the edge of the cliff.

She seems to hover there, gasping, panting, moaning. God, she’s so fucking sexy, so incredibly gorgeous when she falls apart in my arms. When I follow her there, my body feels electric, pleasure pulsing in me.

My heart races. It could be from the exertion, but when she clasps my face and pulls me close, I’m pretty sure it’s from something more. “It’s sooo not sex at all,” she whispers.

“I know, Quinn. I know.”

* * *

The next night, we visit an arcade that rents Skee-Ball machines for parties, and she places an order for the holiday bash.

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