Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Leo
Fuck.
Okay, not the hardest day ever, but certainly not a good one.
You tried. You just…lost your patience.
I pursed my lips as I dug my keys out of my pants pocket. A guy was entitled. Right? Or so I told myself.
“Hey!” The voice I knew all too well followed me.
After locating my keys, I hit the keyless entry. I was nearly at the door when Quinton was upon me.
“I said, ‘hey’.”
“Hey yourself. I’m heading home.”
“Jesus. You’re such an asshole.”
I turned to face him. Under the parking lot lamp, his pale skin had a weird pink tinge. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like hell you don’t.” He glared.
Okay…maybe I do. I wanted to ask him to cut me some slack, but somehow I didn’t see that working well for me. “Uh, how did things go with Finn last night? You never—”
“No fucking way, Leo. That’s not happening. You’re not derailing me.”
“I don’t know which track you’re actually on. So if you’ll let me—”
“Jesus. You’re such an asshole.”
I rolled my eyes. “So you’ve said. I don’t have anything—”
“Not done anything? You could certainly stand to be nicer to your nursing staff. We’re not lazy like you think.”
Breathe. “I didn’t say—” I took another breath. “I am nice.”
“Seriously?” He slashed his hand through the air. “You’re not. You glare at us if you come into the break room and we’re having a laugh.”
“You’re taking this way too personally.” Did I do that? I couldn’t remember. Just that I hadn’t spotted a nurse with the patients and then three were in the lounge having a grand old time.
“If you insult one nurse, then you insult us all.”
“I didn’t insult anyone. And besides, I have a job to do. Excuse me for demanding that you do yours.”
His eyes widened. “Think very carefully before you say shit like that. Those are fighting words.”
Appease him. “Look—” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I’m just a bit stressed out. Between juggling my schedule, finding time for the kids…
It’s not like I have someone to give me a relaxation hand job at home.
” Oh my God, you did not just say that. And yet, judging by the shocked look on Quinton’s face—with his eyes wide and his mouth open—I’d done exactly that.
“So what you’re saying is you’d be nicer to us if you got laid?”
“Well…it wouldn’t hurt.”
He poked his cheek out with his tongue. “What the hell, I’m not busy tonight. I guess I’ll take one for the team. I’ll meet you at your place.”
“Isn’t your home closer?”
“Mama’s off work tonight, and I do not want to explain why I’m giving an arrogant surgeon a hand job.”
“Oh.” My mind sort of scrambled at that. “Well, when you put it like that—”
“Get in your fucking SUV, Leo, and drive home. I’ll be right behind you.” With that, he pivoted and stalked off toward his vehicle.
After I slid into the driver’s seat, I slammed the door.
And then adjusted myself. Because Quinton pissed off—and clearly horny—was a sight to behold.
With shaking fingers, I pressed the button to start the engine.
Very carefully, I drove through Abbotsford, across the bridge, up several steep hills, and finally into the darkness of the hills.
Since streetlamps were strategically placed at intersections and few other places, I drove in the dark.
With only my thoughts to keep me company.
I’m bringing a man home for sexual gratification.
Something I’d sworn to never do. The house was sacred and entirely dedicated to my children.
I saw it as more theirs than mine. Everything was designed for their comfort.
To give them a sense of security. And now you’re asking him to come inside for the second time.
The perfection of the first visit sat prominently in my memory—but we’d had the kids as chaperones.
As onlookers. So we hadn’t touched each other.
Tonight?
Was I really expecting him to give me a hand job?
Or was I simply relieved we were no longer fighting in the open parking lot where anyone could have seen us?
Hell, maybe someone had, but had chosen to stick to the shadows.
You really need to be more careful. Yeah, except careful and Quinton Li didn’t belong in the same train of thought.
He was trouble with a capital T, and I wouldn’t want him any other way.
That had me hesitating as I took the turn onto my street. How do I want him? How does he want me? This back-and-forth antagonism isn’t good for either one of us. Which begged the question—was I an arrogant jackass?
The answer hadn’t come to me as I pulled into my plowed driveway. Snow didn’t usually stick around this long, but we’d been having a cold snap. Once parked, I hustled into the house. Thank God I’d showered at the hospital, so that was taken care of.
And my house was pristine—as always. Because I never knew when the kids might need to come over—and I was a stickler for cleanliness. In fact, I’d cleaned Thursday night after coming home from counseling, and I’d do the same this Thursday. To prepare for having the kids over.
I removed my coat and hung it in the front hall closet. Then I headed to the bathroom to take a piss. Because nothing like needing to pee while getting a hand job.
The front door opened and closed.
I flushed, re-zipped, washed my hands, and headed back out to the main room.
Quinton was removing his coat and toeing off his shoes.
Damn. I forgot to do that. I’d likely brought snow into the house. I moved over to the mat and bent to untie my laces.
He grasped my hips and pressed himself against me as he held me steady. His erection pressed against my ass.
Slowly I straightened, leaning back against him—with his hands still gripping my hips—while I toed off my boots. Languidly, I rubbed my crack against his straining cock. “I thought you were going to give me a hand job.” The huskiness and need in my voice surprised me.
“I’m always up for manhandling you.” He chuckled as his breath ghosted across the back of my neck.
“What do you have in mind?” Because I had absolutely no doubt Quinton had come here with a plan.
“You. Me. Your bed.” He nipped at my neck. “Preferably you fucking me. But I’ll take whatever I can get.”
My cock, previously half-hard, pressed tightly against the fabric of my khaki pants. “Do you need to shower?”
“Nope. Did that at work.”
“Anticipating running into me?” Because the timing had been curious.
“Not really. Although when I saw you striding past the Starbucks, where I was in line to get a tea, I abandoned all thoughts of health and followed you. Only semi-stalkerish.”
I wasn’t going to bring up the reason he’d confronted me. That could wait. Or you might never address it at all. That works for me. Yeah, it did.
“My bed is untested.”
He stilled.
“I’ve never asked someone home with me. And, as you know, Gideon was my one and only.”
“Our night in the hotel…?”
“Getting back in the saddle—so to speak.”
“And what a glorious saddle ride that was.” He blew a warm breath that skittered up my neck to my earlobe—a particularly sensitive place for me.
“You want me to fuck you?”
“Yeah. That sounds about right. You have condoms and lube?”
I cleared my throat. “After the last time—relying on you to take care of things—I decided I wasn’t going to be unprepared again. They’re in a locked filing cabinet in my cupboard.”
He chuckled. “That’s not weird at all.”
“I only have three bedrooms and no space for a den. I use the kitchen table as my desk when I need one. So yeah, important papers, condoms, and lube are under lock and key. Both my kids are way too smart for their own good.” Well, Melodie especially.
But Trevor’s curiosity could get him into trouble sometimes. Together, they were a formidable duo.
As if on cue, my phone buzzed.
I yanked it out.
And found a picture of Archer with the kids on Melodie’s bed as he read them a bedtime story.
My breath caught.
“He’s really good with them.” Quinton. Peering over my arm.
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “I couldn’t ask for a better…whatever. I guess eventually he’ll be their stepfather.”
“He’ll never replace you.”
“Yeah, but he sees them more than I do. I should—” I swallowed again. “Maybe work less?”
“Melodie’s in school, right? And Trevor will be soon?”
“Yeah.”
“So Gideon gets them evenings and one weekend a month. You get them all weekend.”
“Plus I go there for dinner on Wednesday nights.”
“Really?”
I met Quinton’s gaze. “Our attempt at civility—our attempt to show the kids that divorce doesn’t always mean acrimony. Even though it did for almost two years.”
“He’s forgiven you.”
“Yes.”
“Have you forgiven yourself?”
Quinton’s question caught me off-guard. “I did what was best.”
“You did.” Yet he didn’t sound convinced. “But it’s still a hell of a burden to carry.”
“It’s why I’m in counseling.”
“Well, that’s good then. All’s well.” He traced his index finger along my thumb.
A shiver ran up and down my spine. I chuckled. “Yes, I’m still interested.”
“Oh, good. I mean, kids first—”
“But since they’re not here, we might as well take advantage of that fact.” Because I never intended to do anything about any itch I might want to scratch while the kids were around.
“I like the sound of that.”
“You need anything?”
“To piss.”
“Well, you know where the bathroom is. Might as well strip—unless you have some fetish where you want me to fuck you still clothed.”
He laughed. “Hell no. Skin on skin all the way.” He sauntered off toward the bathroom.
I made a beeline to the bedroom. After retrieving the lube and condoms, I stripped as fast as I could—still careful to lay my clothes on my reading chair so they wouldn’t wrinkle. I was just pulling back the covers when Quinton appeared at the door.
He whistled.
I stilled.
He grinned. “I’ve been trying to tell myself for the past three weeks that you couldn’t be as handsome as I remembered.”
“Oh?”
“And you’re not.”
I blinked. “Well, okay then.”