Ultimately, Sam carried Quinn home.
She was more stubborn after getting drunk, and since it was late, they would cause a ruckus if they
returned to Saunders Mansion.
He placed Quinn on the bed and was about to leave when Quinn caught his wrist. “Don’t go.”
Sam’s heart raced-he could feel the warmth of her palm in his hand. “Open your eyes, Quinn. I’m Sam.”
“I know,” Quinn stared at him with a thousand-yard stare.” You’re an irresponsible man!”
Sam pursed his lips-was she that wild whenever she got drunk?!
“You have no right to hand me off to Ryan! I’m not a piece of merchandise!”
Quinn cried as she suddenly rose and stood on the bed, glaring downward at Sam.
“Don’t stand there. You’ll fall,” Sam said.
“I’m not going to fall,” Quinn refused to listen, and kept pressing, “Why did you push me away? How did I
come up short? My figure? My face? Why are you so picky, Sam Saunders?!”
“Just lie down.”
“No!” Quinn refused to let him touch her, evading him whenever he reached out to hold her.
Sam’s heart could leapt out of her throat, watching her teeter over the edge.
“Answer me first. Why do you hate me?!” she snapped, pointed at him in the nose.
“I don’t hate you.”
“You do!” Quinn exclaimed, her eyes puffy. “You’d rather have those bad women than me. Should I
become bad for you to like me?”
“That’s not it.”
“You’re lying! You like those women with big butts and slender waists. The ones who are skilled,” Quinn
scoffed in grief.
Sam was speechless—was she that difficult when drunk?!
“I wanted to get wild too,” Quinn suddenly said.
“What are you saying?!” Sam’s face fell right then. Get wild?! How? Was she thinking what he was
thinking?!
“I’ll sleep with many men and learn some techniques,” Quinn continued.
“I’ll kill you!” Sam bellowed angrily-what on earth was she thinking?!
“That way, I’d find out what sort of women you prefer!”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Yes, I would! I’m that much of a loser!” Quinn cried hysterically. “I can go that far—it hurts and it feels
dirty just to think that I’d do it with another man!”
Sam breathed a sigh of relief-at least she was not that far gone.
Even so, Quinn’s tears kept rolling as her grief unfurled. “But how am I supposed to find out your type?!”
Sam felt stung and said ever so quietly to himself, “You’re my type.”
“What do you want from me, Sam? How do I make you love me?! Tell me!”
Quinn shrieked and suddenly jumped at him.
Stunned, Sam had to quickly catch her, though she leapt so hard she knocked him down.
Falling on his bottom, he was gritting his teeth in pain but froze before he could make a sound.
Quinn was suddenly kissing him, and their breathing and heart rates abruptly raced.
Sam wanted to push her away, convinced that she was just drunk and would regret it tomorrow when she
got sober. However, he could not push her away because he could not bear to do it.
His body stiffening, his eyes widened as he watched Quinn kiss him so meticulously, and he could taste
her in his mouth.
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