Page 81 of Dad Next Door

“Do you need to go?” I asked dazedly as he pulled away.

“Nope.” His eyes blazed with heat.

“Do you want to go to my room?”

“Yeah.” He stepped back and licked his bottom lip, his eyes roving over me.

I held out my hand. He took it.

With a fortifying breath, I led him to my room.

We’d been so busy the last few weeks we hadn’t gotten to spend much time together. We mostly met up for an hour or so after work when I was on my off weeks, and spent our time chatting, having dinner together, and a few times we’d watched a movie at his place.

In that time, we’d kissed, cuddled on his couch, exchanged a few hurried hand jobs, and engaged in a lot of over-the-clothes touching and frotting.

I didn’t know if Quinn was taking things so slow for my sake or if this was his preferred pace too, but I was ready for more.

He followed me into my room and waited as I locked the door behind us. When I turned to face him, he was smiling softly.

“What?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Nothing.” He ran his hand down my arm and gently took my hand. “I just like looking at you.”

My face heated to the point my ears actually hurt from how much they were burning. Awesome. Now I probably looked like an awkward tomato. Talk about sexy.

“Tris.” His soft voice broke through my thoughts.

“Sorry.” I flushed even hotter.

“Don’t be sorry.” He squeezed my hand. “This is a big deal.”

“It shouldn’t be. I’m thirty-eight years old. It’s not like I’m some shy virgin.”

“No, but you’re also healing from years of emotional and physical neglect. We can just talk or whatever. I don’t care what we do as long as we’re both comfortable and get to spend time together.”

Little flutters exploded in my chest. He was so intuitive, so caring. He understood me better than anyone ever had.

“We can talk after.” Hooking one hand around his neck, I dragged him down for a kiss.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me tight. His cock, like mine, was already hard.

We stood there, wrapped up together and kissing like our lives depended on it. Like we’d never get the chance to kiss again.

“What do you want?” he asked between kisses, his voice a husky rasp that made my insides tighten.

“You.”

“You’ve got me, Doc.” He gently rubbed my back. “What are you ready for?”

I loved it when he called me that. It felt intimate and special because of how he said it. Like it was a prayer or something to be cherished.

“I’m not sure,” I said honestly.

I wanted to tell him I was ready for all of him, but that was my lust talking. I’d get there at some point, but not yet.

“Do you want to lay down?”

My neck flushed hot. I nodded.