He made no move to kill the engine. She made no move to get out. In fact, she was staring out the windshield, clutching her sweatshirt to her chest again. The moonlight traced silver along the lines of her face, leaving her eyes in shadow. Her jaw was tight. “Do you want me to drive you to Becca’s instead?” he said. She shook her head and glanced over. “Can I crash with you again?” Nick kept his eyes on the steering wheel and didn’t say anything. He’d let her spend the night once, after Gabriel had cut her self-esteem to shreds by making a bunch of cracks about her weight. Quinn had been so full of rage and self-hatred that Nick had been worried she’d go home and find a set of razor blades or something. He’d never let a girl spend the night before. He’d never wanted to. He didn’t want to now. Besides, if Michael found her there, he’d make damn sure she left, and he’d probably make it as humiliating as possible, just to be sure Nick wouldn’t try to sneak a girl in again.
