Page 64 of That Kind of Guy

Think about turtles. Turtles are gross. They’re slimy.

Good. This was helping.

I cleared my throat. “That suit looks great on you too.” What? “I mean, you do, too. Look good. You look good, too.”

She snorted. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” My cock throbbed and I tried not to picture her in the decoy underwear I had bought. I really shouldn’t have bought those. What a mistake. The image of her wearing them had been sneaking into my head at the most inconvenient times.

Avery wandered over to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. Her perfume wafted into my periphery again and I had the overwhelming urge to bury my face in her neck and huff her into my soul. She leaned down to look at me, giving me a front-row seat to her goddamn incredible tits, right in my face.

“You look weird.”

“I’m fine,” I rasped as I held on for dear life to my control. “Can I have some water?” I just needed to get her tits out of my face before I said or did something very stupid.

“You have some right there.” She picked up my glass and handed it to me.

Right. Shit. I rubbed my hand over my face and inhaled, trying to calm myself. My cock throbbed with need. I should have jerked off in the shower before tonight. I had been putting that off lately, because I had a sneaking suspicion the second my hand wrapped around myself, I wouldn’t be able to get Avery out of my head.Get your head in the game, Rhodes.

“Right. Thanks.” I took it from her and downed the glass while she watched with a small grin. “Where’s your TV?” I was desperate to change the subject.

She leaned down to slip her heels on and again, I couldn’t tear my gaze from her perfect tits. An image of me yanking the dress down and running my tongue over her pinched nipples played in my head. Fuck.

She shrugged. “Don’t have one.”

Turtles. Slimy turtles staring at you. Turtle crawling on your bed. Avery crawling on your bed. Shit. No.“Hannah said you love old movies.” My voice sounded far away. Hannah had told me this when I asked her about engagement rings.

“I watch them on my laptop.”

“Your laptop is a thousand years old. They found it in an Egyptian tomb.”

She grinned at me and stood. “Are you ready, or do you want to continue staring at my tits all night?”

Our eyes locked and a laugh burst out of my chest. Busted. “Why not both?” A sly smile grew on my face.

Avery locked up and my hand came to her elbow as we descended the stairs.

“Uh oh, Lazer’s on the loose!” that fucking Hawaiian shirt guy called from the patio. He wiggled his eyebrows at her and his gaze also snagged on her neckline.

Any grin on my face dropped when he looked at her like that. My hand slipped around her waist and I locked her to my side.

Hawaiian Shirt Fuckface leaned in further to her chest. “Is that the vintage moonstone pendant you got a couple weeks ago?”

She nodded with enthusiasm and her hand brushed the necklace. “It sure is.”

He leaned in further to look at the necklace and white rage flooded my veins. “What a piece.” He grinned lazily up at her. My teeth gritted and my jaw was tense. I was staring a hole through this guy’s skull.

A thought struck me like a punch in the gut. Avery only hooked up with summer workers. I didn’t know if it was a rule, but it was a general guideline. I thought back to our conversation about discretely dating on the side.

What if, at one point, she had something going withthis guy? What if she wanted to continue dating this guy? What if she was just waiting until we were done to hook up with him again?

My jaw clenched. This asshole had to be twenty-three, maybe twenty-four. She didn’t have to date the guy, maybe she just used him for sex. He was just downstairs, what could be more convenient than that?

An angry rage rocketed through my veins and my arm tightened around her waist. God, he had a stupid face. A punchable face, that’s what Holden called faces like his, all mashed around and stupid-looking. He couldn’t even grow a proper beard.

Another feeling rattled through me—possessiveness. One word came to mind and my hand tensed over Avery’s waist.

Mine.

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