“I’m starving. But is there time for me to grab a quick shower?” I showered after practice. Should have slipped into the ice bath, although even that now would have been wasted.

“Sure.” She blinked, and I swore a color rose on her cheeks. Probably from the wine, not my asshole self standing there, gaping at her. “It’s warming in the oven. Want anything to drink?”

“Water would be great.”

I’d had enough to drink this week. Would probably have a few tomorrow, on the course and at Joey’s. Tonight I should probably keep my head clear, not to mention with the season starting, I needed to cut back anyway.

I made quick work of hurrying upstairs to my room. Glanced at my closed bedroom door.

Ground my teeth together.

That fucking dress.

That smile.

Why in the fuck did the first woman who turned me on in three years have to be my sister’s best friend? A woman just getting out of what sounded like a seriously fucked up relationship?

But… fuck it.

There was no way I could go downstairs, not with my pulse racing. My dick so goddamn hard it could split the seam of my athletic shorts.

“Fuck,” I groaned again and shoved off my boxers. Flipping on the water, I didn’t even wait for it to warm before stepping into the icy cold spray.

Needles hit my skin, and I flinched from it, but still… nothing helped my erection, standing proud, long, and so damn hard it almost hurt when I wrapped my hand around it.

“Shit,” I gasped as I ran my hand up and down my length. I worked myself fast and quick, the sudden desire to paint Emmersyn’s breasts with cum whipping through me. The way I wanted to bite that area of soft flesh right above her hips. I wanted my dick sliding in between her tits, and I wanted those thighs straddling my shoulders as she sat on my face.

I allowed myself the moment of those visions pummeling me, making me throb, making my chest seize with a want I hadn’t had in years, well before Ava walked out on me, and when I came, I ground down on my teeth and braced my free hand on the shower wall so Emmersyn didn’t hear me grunting out her name from a floor away.

What in the hell had I gotten myself into?

Eleven

Emmersyn

I should have been over my physical attraction to Kane years ago. I mean, Heather had his picture up all over her place. Both in college and afterward. She spent hours forcing me to watch his games, to which, admittedly, I never understood. Throw me in front of a football game or baseball game and I got it. Could pick a team and cheer with the best of them. Hockey? It all moved so fast. Which meant I usually ended up spending my time reading books and drinking wine while she screamed at the TV, occasionally slapping my thigh and shouting, “Did you see that?” Either while she was pissed off at a ref, another player on a different team, or thought her brother had done something awesome.