Page 41 of Lost the Handle

“Thank you.”

My eyes fly open, but she still appears asleep, even though I know I heard her whisper the words. I swallow thickly, grazing her cheek with the back of my hand before I force myself to leave her. I walk to my room, my cock so hard it hurts, and my mind is so fucked, I don’t know what’s up and what’s down.

But I do know she’ll tell me why she has my name on her thigh.

And only time will tell if I survive it.

Chapter

Seventeen

Emery

“How in theworld did you get him to wear that shirt?”

I beam widely as I look over at where Quinn is leaning against the counter, his hair in waves brushed over his forehead and his very incredible T-shirt, reading “Even Baddies get Saddies” and showing a shirtless Joe Jonas, crying on the side of the yacht. Quinn has on snug jeans and his worn black Converse, looking all kinds of adorable. He raises a shoulder, hiding a smirk. “I like it. I’m a Joe fan.”

I giggle as Grandma looks back at me. My shirt reads, “I love the Jonas Brothers,” but “Brothers” is crossed out and “Daddies” is printed below it. I didn’t think I could get Quinn to go with me to the concert here in Boston, but since we slept together, he agrees to anything I ask. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Especially when the same goes for me. He asked me to watch a documentary on different tools used for a complete hip replacement, and I agreed because I wanted to be near him.

I wonder if Grandma suspects something. It was supposed to be one time, but it’s turned into a week-long fuckathon. Mypussy is delectably sore, and I love the constant reminder of him being inside me. I love how he looks at me now and how it makes me feel.

Like I’m falling and he’s the only one that can catch me.

I’ve always been attracted to him—how could I not? He’s gorgeous, as all Adler men are. There is something in their genes that makes any woman who sets her eyes on one of them throw her independence out the damn door.

Quinn tells me to drop to my knees, and I don’t even hesitate.

I’ve got the bruises to prove it.

God, I want him even now. He looks all sexy and carefree, and while I’m super excited for the concert, I’d much rather find the closest surface for him to take me on. It’s been a blast learning each other’s bodies. He’s a very giving lover, but that’s his personality. He’s a good dude.

My dude.

I exhale, not letting that thought grow. I tear my gaze from him, my heart doing that little flutter thing in my chest as I look back to Grandma. “See? It’s all him.”

“No doubt,” she says in her thick Boston accent. “You two be careful.”

“We will,” Quinn promises. We kiss her goodbye and tell her to tell Grandpa we’ll see him tomorrow. He’s out at the rink, coaching the team at the high school that Shea Adler graduated from. Once we’re in Quinn’s car, I buckle my seat belt, excitement coursing through my body, but it’s replaced by heat when I meet Quinn’s gaze.

“Picture?”

I nod. “For sure.” An inferno burns in his eyes as he grins just for me. My stomach clenches. It’s crazy how we went from friends to lovers with such ease. He holds out his phone, capturing us grinning at the camera. He leans in, kissing my cheek as I watch the picture save—my laughter and his lipspressed to my cheek captured forever. When I turn my head, he brings up his free hand and captures my jaw in his long fingers.

Then his lips are on mine.

Leaving me breathless.

I lean into the kiss, moving my lips against his with vigor. I love how he tastes, how his lips feel on mine, but most of all, it’s the tenderness for me. He kisses me like I’m breakable, even though we both know I’m not. He pulls back, panting, and then he winks like a fucking teen heartthrob. I laugh, shaking my head, but suddenly, “Lovebug” by the Jonas Brothers starts playing. My laughter grows as he starts singing, loudly and only for me. His eyes light with excitement as he sings and drums on the steering wheel. I sing with him, and when the climax of the song hits, his eyes meet mine. I feel each word like a damn promise from his lips.

Quinn reaches out and turns down the music, only our voices filling the air until they trail off once we lock gazes. “Be my lovebug?”

I roll my eyes. “So corny.”

“Seriously,” he says, and I can see the need in his eyes. “I don’t want this to end here. I want you always, lovebug.”

My stomach clenches, and I feel like I can’t catch my next breath. Unable to speak, I nod, leaning in to kiss the side of his mouth. He turns his head, and once more, our lips are attached. I move my hand up to palm his cheek, and everything inside me is firing off.

Excitement, need, but also a little fear.

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