Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
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 ones in 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.
“Dad, what’s wrong with me?”
He pauses mid-drink and then directs his gaze at me. “That’s a loaded question, sweetness.” I give him a dry look, and he shrugs as he drops the bottle to his side. “For real. Are we asking mentally or physically…? I need more context.”
“Am I really that messed up?”
He chuckles softly. “I think you’re perfect, but a lot wouldn’t agree, which is their problem, not ours.” He lowers himself beside me, leaning his arm on the rock as he looks up at me. His gaze is full of love. The perfect dad. “What’s going on?”
I let out a heavy breath and shake my head. “Things with Quinn are getting messier than I anticipated.”
“What did you expect to happen when you decided to go after an engaged man?” he asks me, his eyes challenging.
“I thought I’d come back, and he’d leave her.”
Dad scoffs. “So, that’s not how it’s going? There is resistance, I presume?”
“Yeah, and I don’t get it.”
“He’s a loyal guy, which is one of the things I love about him.”
Me too. “But Dad, he doesn’t love her. He doesn’t want her—”