Page 46 of Lost the Handle

I exhale, shaking my head, but then I go still when I hear her voice. “Nice.”

I whip my head to the side to find the very person I was just imagining getting me off, standing there with rosy cheeks and a devilish grin on her face. “Emery,” I grind out, but she’s moving her eyes along my body, that grin unstoppable. I find myself squeezing my cock, unable to control the lust coursing through me as she studies me with heat in her eyes.

“I came in to thank you for last night, but now I want to thank you for that. Right in the spank bank, Quinny.”

Why aren’t I covering myself up? What the hell am I doing? “This is wrong.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but damn, does it feel so fucking good.” My mouth goes dry as she winks. Why does she have to be so fucking sexy? Breathlessly, she says, “I don’t think you wanted me to behave at all, so my bad for not taking the hint.”

“There was no hint,” I try to get out, but it sounds all rough and like I don’t mean a word of what just left my mouth.

“Oh… Okay…” she draws out, but she doesn’t seem the least bit concerned with my lie. Wait, it wasn’t a lie. Shit. Was it? That sneaky grin comes over her face. “Since I’m not one to drop hints or beat around the bush, and I’m never sorry for being forward, maybe dump your fiancée so I can be on the receiving end of you moaning my name and coming all over me.” Her voice is husky, and that makes the words sound even dirtier. “It’s way more fun, don’t you think?”

Before I can answer, she giggles and heads toward the door. She can’t help but look back at me, her teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip and causing me to squeeze myself even harderto keep from dragging her into this shower with me. “Looking really good, Adler. Real fucking good.”

As she disappears through the door I thought I locked, I’m speechless. My cock jumps at her words, and I close my eyes tightly. She knows I want her, and that knowledge makes Emery more dangerous than anyone could imagine.

I am so fucked.

Chapter

Twenty

Emery

I may have leapedover the line like it was an Olympic sport last night.

I truly only wanted to thank him and let him know how much I appreciated how he helped me. I didn’t even realize he was in the bathroom until I stepped in. I should have looked away, but there was no way in hell I could. And as water streamed down his rock-hard body and his eyes squeezed shut, I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. I had no right to watch him come undone like that, but in my defense, my absolute favorite thing in the world is watching Quinn Adler come. I thought I had memorized every single thing about how he came, but Quinn then compared to Quinn now…

I’m surprised I didn’t spontaneously combust.

Watching as his strong body tensed up, each ripple of muscle bulging while his jaw tightened so hard, I’m sure he cracked a few teeth in the process. I love how his ass clenched, how his abs tightened before he blew, the look of pure male satisfaction on his face… The whole scene left me lust-drunk. But all that was just the appetizer because then he made those noises. Deep onesin his chest that rumbled before they escaped. It felt almost like an otherworldly experience when he groaned my name. It’s like he started my name at the back of his throat before it ended on his lips like a whispered prayer.

It was so fucking hot.

And if he’s the altar, then I’m the sinner on my knees begging for his reverence.

I let my eyes fall shut and tell myself that getting turned on by the guy who is not engaged to me is not a good idea.

Especially when I’m with my dad.

After watching Quinn come everywhere but on me, I stayed in my room to give him space. While he looked damn good coming apart, I didn’t miss the guilt in his eyes. He’s struggling with his want for me and his engagement to Ava. I saw that, and weirdly, I’m starting to feel bad. Which is odd, I know.

I don’t like him to be upset. I don’t like him hurting, but I don’t understand this thing he is doing. It’s obvious he doesn’t want Ava—he wants me—so why is he torturing himself? If I’m honest, I feel a bit ashamed. Watching him like that, saying what I said, made me a bit of a whore, and I sure as shit don’t like how that makes me feel.

But I’d say it all again.

Or jump in the shower with him.

I’m sitting on a rock as my dad sets up some kind of laser thing that is supposed to help him measure out the land and then put the info into his iPad so he and Mom can design. While I’m appreciative of the technology he’s using, my asshole self thinks I could have done it better. Like, this is a lot of setup. I think it would be easier if he could take a photo with his iPad and it gives him the measurements. Or gives him info on what would fit well. Great, now my mind is running off the deep end to another invention I sure as hell don’t have time for.

My dad looks down at the screen, and his brows knit together as he glares at it. I can’t help the soft smile that pulls at my lips as I watch him. He’s my hero. If I were to say I could make a better system for him, he’d wait for me to design it, no matter how long it took me. He’s my biggest supporter, my biggest fan, just as I will always be his. He doesn’t have to be the best hockey player in the world for me to be a fan of his; he just has to be my dad.

His dark hair has a sprinkling of gray through it, even dotting his beard that my mom has been on him about shaving. I don’t know why he won’t, but I like it. When his gray gaze cuts to mine, I send him a wide smile.

“This system sucks. Find me something better, or invent it,” he barks at me, his frustration apparent.

I giggle softly as he comes over and grabs the water bottle he brought with us. I bite into my lip, and while I know my dad would rather deal with the program than talk to me about Quinn, I need his advice.

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