Page 113 of Dust to Dust

“That’s kind of you.” I patted his leg. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t…be intimate with a woman.”

“Like you can’t ask them out?”

“No. I can’t…well, you know.”

At the realization, heat rushed my cheeks. “Don’t you think your problem is more suited to a urologist or a reproductive specialist?”

He shook his head. “It isn’t a physical issue. I still get morning wood.”

Oh God. I felt the urge to crawl under the couch and hide from mortification. But I forced myself to stay seated. “Hmm, it does sound like an emotional block.”

“Exactly.”

Furrowing my brows, I asked, “What is the trauma it could be stemming from?”

Although I knew he’d prepared himself for my question, a shudder ran through Kellan. He once again began to pace in front of me. “You don’t have to do this.”

After running his hand over his face, he gave a determined shake of his head. “A year ago, my father forced me and my younger brother at gunpoint to hold my sister down as he allowed her future husband to rape her.”

In my mind, I’d worked up many potential scenarios for Kellan’s trauma. None of them even remotely touched the horror of what he’d experienced. To be forced to witness your sister’s rape had to be the most horrendous torment I’d ever heard. But then to have your own father be your tormentor was unimaginable.

When I could finally speak again, I said, “I think we’re going to need more alcohol.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Quinn

It was a little after two am when a knock came at my office door. “What?” I demanded.

To my surprise, a familiar blonde head poked in. “Aren’t you done?”

“Almost.” I eyed her curiously. “Why?”

She swept inside the door. Instead of her usual leggings and t-shirts, she wore a form-fitting green dress that hit just at her knees with a mouth-watering pair of green suede knee boots. I remembered seeing her in the dress during our shopping spree, but the boots were definitely new.

Cocking my head at her, I asked, “Why are you all dressed up?”

A mischievous grin lit up her face. “I have a surprise for you.”

While I inwardly groaned, I kept my face impassive. “What kind of surprise?”

She swept a hand to her hips. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, silly.”

“Perhaps this is when I tell you I don’t like bleedin’ surprises,” I grumbled.

“No, you don’t say,” she teasingly replied.

“Isla,” I warned.

With a cheeky little grin, she came around the side of my desk. She held out her hand to me. “Come on, Big Guy. You’re mine for the rest of the night.”

Since the last thing I wanted was to give into her surprise, my hands gripped her tiny waist. “Quinn, what are you–”

She shrieked as I hoisted her up. “Put me down!”

I obliged her by plopping her down on my desk. I then shoved her dress up her thighs. Gripping her knees, I pushed them wide apart. “What are you–”

My head dipped between her thighs. She sucked in a harsh breath when I licked her over the tiny scrap of green lace. Fuck, I could never get enough of her smell or her taste.

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