“Oh, really?” Quinn asks, and suddenly, the room heats up.
“So what happens if he asks you to kiss him?”
“What?” I gasp, stepping back away from Quinn, a slowly moving predator.
“You heard me. What if the terms of him divulging this alleged information is on the proviso of him kissing you?”
Gulping, I shakily reply, “I would tell him to go to hell.”
Quinn licks his bottom lip, snickering. “Would you?”
“Of course,” I affirm, still walking backward because suddenly, I feel like prey.
Quinn shakes his head, his tousled locks veiling his eyes. “You see, Red, I think your intentions are innocent, but if he gives you an inch, that won’t be enough, and I think you would do almost anything to get him to talk.”
What is Quinn implying? Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
“I would never,” I say
