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“Come on in.”

I looked up as I stepped through the door and almost stumbled over nothing. Quinton was shirtless and wearing only silver basketball shorts that rode ridiculously low on his narrow hips. The flames went halfway up his forearms. His arms were thick and corded with muscles, his biceps bulging. His chest and stomach were sculpted to perfection, toned, his washboard abs looked rock hard and I didn’t think there was any loose skin on his stomach to pinch. There was a thick, rope of dark hair that traveled down his belly and disappeared into his shorts. He had a light sprinkling of dark hair scattered across his chest. And, most surprising of all, there were silver barbells through each of his nipples.

Very quickly, but probably not quick enough for him to have not noticed my eyes as they perused his body, I looked back at my flip flop covered feet.

“You’re here early,” he said as he shut the door. “Not that I mind, of course. I think the twins just now managed to drag their asses out of bed and I haven’t seen Ty yet this morning.”

Apparently, Tyson had managed to get back into the house without being noticed this morning. I wondered if Quinton had known Tyson had been at my house for part of the night.

“Hey,” a long, lean fingertip covered in thin white scars appeared in front of my face and dipped under my chin. Very gently, he tipped my face up, forcing me to take my eyes off my feet and meet his dark eyes. “You alright?”

My whole face tingled, radiating warmth from either his touch or his strange heat.

“Yeah,” I croaked out. A total lie.

Thankfully, Tyson appeared at the bottom of the stairs, saving me from having to say anything else. He wore all black the same as he had done all week.

Quinton made me slightly uneasy. And it had nothing to do with his rough exterior and his tattoos or even his damn nipple piercings and the whole bad boy persona he seemed to fit into. It had to do with the dangerous air that hovered around him like a physical thing. It’s like he had his own, personal cloud vibrating with emotion.

My skin burned where he’d touched me.

Tyson frowned at his Uncle who was still touching my chin. I took a step back and Quinton’s scarred finger fell away.

“Where’ve you been?” Quinton growled at his nephew.

“None of your damn business,” Tyson shot back. He grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers. He held my hand as he dragged me out of the house.

I made the mistake of looking over my shoulder on the way out the door. Quinton’s eyes were locked on my ass. I didn’t bother shutting the door. He could do it himself. I could see the beginning of a habit, me never closing the door after I’d walked out of it and expecting them to do it themselves.

As Tyson dragged me to his car parked in the driveway I asked, “Were you not supposed to come over last night?”

I did not want to be the cause of problems between Tyson and his Uncle.

He opened the passenger side door of his Audi for me and frowned. “What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t I have been able to come over?”

“Your Uncle…”

He laughed harshly. “Is a jealous dick who needs to get over himself.”

“What?” Why did he always say things that confused me?

“Never mind, Ariel girl, just get in the car. I’m hungry.”

I sat my butt in the seat, swung my legs inside and placed my backpack on the floor at my feet. Tyson shut the door and rounded the hood to the driver’s side door. He climbed in and soon we were backed out of the driveway and zooming down the road faster than the legal speed limit.

I put my seatbelt on and relaxed into the leather. I was tired. A night of interrupted sleep, episodes of Friday Night Lights, sleeping next to Tyson for a few hours and waking up early had drained me of energy.

“I don’t want to go to school,” I whined. “I want to go home and go back to bed.”

“I can’t skip school. If I do, Quinton will be all over my ass. He likes having something to bitch at me about.”

I slid my head to the side and watched his profile while he drove. “Do you and your Uncle not get along?”

His hands tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him about his Uncle. Too late now.

“We get along just fine. We used to get along better before my parents died and we got stuck with each other.”

I flinched. Someone had mentioned him moving here to live with his Uncle after his parents died but he’d never mentioned it himself. What did one say to something like that? I’m sorry? I’m sorry seemed kind of lame when you think about it.