I checked the time on my cell, while also seeing if she’d texted that she’d changed her mind. Not that I expected her to. Even if she had, the stubborn woman would never admit it. “But since they won’t be here for another hour, I’ll let you get me a beer for old time’s sake.”

We both knew I was just fuckin’ with him, but Haze was a good kid and did it anyway. I flopped down in my usual recliner and reached for the remote.

As much as I enjoyed time with my brothers—especially when it involved partying—I didn’t really wanna be there. I wanted to be with Mac.

Or in Mac.

I wouldn’t give her the space she claimed to want if I went home. I’d lurk in the backyard like a damn stalker or walk in her front door like a psychopath.

Swedes took a spot on the couch and lit a spliff before offering it to me.

I shook my head. Much to my dick’s frustration, I wasn’t fuckin’ Mac, even if she did call me over. Not until I got the all clear from O’s doctor contact.

But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t feast on her pussy till we both passed out. I’d gotten her taste from my fingers, but I wanted it from the source. And I didn’t wanna be high when I had that.

I’d milk my beer, but that was it.

’Cause I really was that damn pathetic.

17. Gimme a Hand, Neighbor

CHAPTER 17

GIMME A HAND, NEIGHBOR

MAC

I can do this.

I’ve done it a thousand times before.

I’m the master of my own domain.

I…

Can’t do this.

Lying in bed, I had my hand between my spread legs. I’d tried the magic wand. The rabbit. The pretty rose.

When none of them worked, I’d switched to manual mode—my finger on my clit. But the more I played, the harder it was to find my release. I was soaked. Practically shaking with need. Desperate and built up. So close, yet miles and miles away.

It was like I was edging myself when I very much did not want to be. I didn’t know what my deal was.

Actually, that was a lie. I knew exactly who to blame.

Ward.

It was all his fault.

Two incredible orgasms from his skilled hand, and I was ruined. Temporarily. I’d fix it.

Even if it took me all damn night.

More determined—or maybe mad with desperation—I read highlights from my favorite one-handed romance books. I watched bits of movies aimed toward women, though they missed that mark. I even relented and closed my eyes, allowing myself to picture the man I’d been working hard to ignore.

Him kissing me.

Touching me.