Page 51 of Westin

“No, sir,” I say, cocking my head.

His brows jerks. “You teasing me, darling?”

I nod. I don’t tease anyone much, but it’s not by choice. I don’t like anyone well enough to tease them, but Westin is a different story. He likes it; I can tell by the curve of his mouth as he pulls his underwear off and straightens, fully naked and breathtaking.

I stare, transfixed. Every time we’ve had sex, we’re already tangled up by the time his clothes come off. I’ve never stood back and gotten a good look at him naked.

I want to look him all over, but what I’m staring at stares at me first. I swallow hard. It’s impressive.

“How do you ride with that thing?” I ask before I can stop myself.

He laughs. “I make it work.”

I cock my brow, still unable to pull my eyes from his groin. He’s big and thick, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. It blows my mind that part of him has been inside me, more than once. It’s no wonder I’m sore when it’s over.

Deep inside, I’m feeling like I have an itch he could scratch with that.

He takes a step back, ripples spilling out around him.

“Come here,” he says.

There’s a note of authority in his tone. He moves deeper until the water hits the V of muscle at his waist. I obey, making my way down the bank and stepping in. It’s lukewarm from baking in the sun.

He cocks his head, watching me as I draw near, until the water is just below my breasts. He looks down at me, and I look up at him.

“Who hit you?” he says, voice low.

I swallow hard, dropping my eyes. A sunfish moves in circles around his body and disappears.

“Look at me, darling,” he says. “Who hit your face?”

I drag my gaze back up. He’s not going to let this go until I’m truthful.

“David pushed me, and I hit my head on the railing,” I whisper.

My heart thuds like a drum. There’s a long silence. His face is unreadable, but when I meet his eyes, my stomach goes cold. I’ve never seen someone look so angry and so calm all at once.

It’s chilling.

“Does he push you a lot?” he asks.

I have to clear my throat to get the words out. “Not a lot. He pushed me down the porch stairs a few years ago. He took me by the throat once and slammed me into the hallway wall.”

“I see,” he says.

“Are you…going to do something bad?” I whisper.

Westin’s eyes give me the shivers, like a frost is setting in. He reaches out and touches my face, cradling it. I melt into his touch, desperate for assurance.

“Don’t you worry, darling,” he says softly. “I handle my business.”

“Am I your business?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he says without hesitating.

I sink lower in the water until it covers my breasts and my hair floats.

“What is this, Mr. Quinn?” I say.

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