Chapter 39 Scottie
Scottie
HIGHLAND BABY COWS
Believe it or not, that’s not even the worst fight me and Elyse have ever had. After close to three decades of friendship, we’ve been through some shit. But at the end of the day I love her, and she’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister.
We fought it out.
Talked it out.
Cried it out.
And all is right with the universe.
“So,” Gavin starts as we make the sort walk home, hand-in-hand. “Do I get to know what went down with you and Elle?”
Laughing, I shrug. “We talked and we’re good now.”
“For over two hours…”
“Was it two hours? Weird.” I pretend to think on something for a moment.
“We ended up moving past it pretty quickly. She was hurt and you know how she gets when she’s hurt, she’s like a snake without venom.
But then I explained it all, besides all the the sex, obviously.
After that, we watched a bunch of videos on highland baby cows. ”
He stops walking, standing in the middle of the path. “You mean to tell me I was sweating bricks, worried about my sister verbally attacking you or worse, and you two were giggling about videos of baby cows?”
“Highland baby cows,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”
He shakes his head like he doesn’t know what to do with me.
“There was one other thing we discussed.”
“If it’s about more baby cows, I’m not sure if I’m interested.”
“Elyse said that Kathleen got fired.”
His shoulders lift like it’s not news to him.
“She came after you, she talked badly about Lily. So I took care of it.”
I want to ask more, but I don’t. It doesn’t matter. There will always be people like Kathleen—bitter, restless, looking for cracks to crawl into. I’m done wasting energy on people like that when there are better things to think about. Happier things. Sexier things.
“Well,” I say, tugging on his hand so he starts walking again, “wanna go get naked and talk about our feelings?”
His eyes drag over me slowly, deliberately, like he’s tracing over every curve. The corner of his lip lifts into a smirk that’s pure hunger.
I think he might’ve stopped listening after I said naked.
“I mean,” he says, voice low enough to vibrate in my chest, “if you’re offering.”
“Oh, I’m offering.” I toss him a look over my shoulder as I start walking again. “I’m practically begging.”
He catches up in two long strides, sliding his arm around my waist like he can’t stand even an inch of distance between us now. His fingers settle right at my hip, thumb drawing circles in a way that shouldn’t be distracting but is.
We walk the rest of the path like that—pressed close, steps syncing.
When we reach the porch, he turns me, crowding me gently up against the railing. Close enough that my breath gets tangled up in his.
“Before we get naked,” he says, tone deceptively even, “I need you to know something.”
His fingers slide down my spine. A drag so slow my eyes roll back. When his hands settle on the small of my back, I blink up at him, and immediately feel the shift in the atmosphere between is.
I swallow against the pulse in my neck, my heart beating erratic.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“I meant what I said.” He pauses, eyes soft and sure in a way that feels like it’s touching me. Like his gaze alone could pull me closer. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you.”
I suck in sharp rush of air.
I heard him shout it in the vineyard.
But people say a lot of things they don’t mean when tensions are high.
And I didn’t want to grab onto that declaration like it was real when there was a chance he only said it in the heat of the moment.
So I pushed it away, shoved it down, placed it behind a locked door. Because if he never said it again—I didn’t want to be the only one holding on to the one time he did.
His hands come up to cradle my jaw, thumbs stroking under my cheekbones, eyes locked with mine. “You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know I wasn’t saying it because everything was exploding.”
I nod, unblinking, something inside me loosening, unraveling, coming undone all at once.
“Falling for you has been like falling of a cliff—the adrenaline, the danger, the way I feel like I might die if I land wrong. You make my heart feel like it’s beating again.
All the risks I used to take, all the dangerous things I used to do—none of them compare to how you make feel. You make me feel alive.”
My eyes burn, hot, my vision blurring.
“I thought I’d given up on that part of myself—the part addicted to the rush—not knowing you would be the biggest rush of all.”
My heart squeezes, achingly full. The kind of full that makes it hard to breathe because it’s never held this much before.
“I love you too.”
He looks startled, like he didn’t expect me to say it, but how could I not when it was practically bursting out of me.
Before I can get another word out, his mouth meets mine. Gentle. Hesitant. Like he’s afraid to push me further.
I lean in, kissing him back—deepening it, choosing him.
He makes a sound in his throat, and it vibrates between us.
We stumble inside on instinct. Our movements turning frantic and clumsy without breaking our kiss.
His body presses to mine, backing me up until I hit the wall. His mouth consumes me—hands sliding into my hair, at my waist, everywhere he can reach. I fist his shirt in my hands, pulling him closer.
He lifts me, hands firm on my thighs as I wrap my legs around him.
His forehead drops to mine for a beat—one ragged breath shared between us—before he starts moving, guiding us up the stairs.
My fingers slip into his hair, loosening his bun, and tugging hard, drawing a low sound from him—one that hits low and deep inside me.
“Gav,” I plead, rolling my hips.
“I know,” he breathes, strained and raw, and it undoes me completely.
We reach the top of the stairs and a few strides later he’s tossing me onto the bed, crawling over top of me.
He settles between my thighs, weight braced on one forearm, his other hand sliding up the back of my leg—slow, claiming. His gaze flicks over my face, my mouth, my chest, like he’s deciding where to start and hates that he can’t touch all of me at once.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, low enough to feel more than hear.
I drag my nails down his spine, the lightest scratch. “You.”
He huffs a breath as his eyes blaze over me like they’re battling between hunger and patience. “You have me.”
I reach for the hem of his shirt, tugging.
He sits back just enough to pull it over his head in one motion, tossing it aside.
I follow, lifting my own shirt off, discarding it. His eyes flare, skimming over my exposed skin.
His hands move to my hips, fingers hooked in my shorts, eyes on mine as he slides them down, along with my panties, in one smooth motion.
“I want you everywhere.” I squirm, needy for him.
“Everywhere,” he repeats, voice rough around the edges.
My breath catches. “Yes.”
His thumb brushes against my bottom lip before he gently slips it in my mouth. “I’ve been in here,” he says, low enough to curl heat through me.
He pulls his thumb free, dragging that same hand down my torso, smoothing over my hips until he reaches between my thighs. He runs a finger through my soaking slit, and the sound that falls out of me is immediate and involuntary.
“Here too,” he murmurs, mouth close to mine. “This part remembers me well.”
His hand lingers there for a moment, fingers slow and certain, like he’s feeling the way my body reacts to him. Then he slides his touch back—down the inside of my thigh, across the curve of my hip—tracing me like a path he’s familiar with.
“What about here?” he palms my ass cheek, rubbing soothing motions in complete contradiction with the wicked grin on his lips. “Has anyone ever been inside this tight little hole?”
“No,” I swallow roughly as his touch travel back between my thighs, this time going further, teasing my back entrance.
“Good,” he whispers, his warm breath dusting over the shell of my ear. “Then I get to be your first.” He place a soft kiss on my jaw. “And only.”
A tremor runs through me, fear and excitement tangled so tightly I can feel them in my pulse.
I know it can feel good.
But I also know it can hurt.
It’s a little taboo. A little naughty.
And those two things alone unfurl something low and warm in me—a wanting I’ve never let myself look at too closely. A desire to give into that pull, that forbidden want.
He must feel a shift in me, because his gaze turns to something softer.
“Hey.” He cradles my jaw with one hand. “It doesn’t have to be tonight. It doesn’t have to be ever.” He smooths over my cheek. “I’m just a feral animal when it comes to you. A goddamn caveman.”
I giggle, because he is. I never would’ve thought this quiet, pensive man would turn into someone who looks at me like he might lose his mind if he can’t get close enough. Someone who unravels so completely with his hands on me.
But now that I know, I crave it. And I want him with the same hunger, the same need.
“I want to try it,” I whisper.
His eyes flare with shock. “You sure?”
I nod. “I trust you.” And it’s the truth.
His breath leaves him in a quiet exhale. “Okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll go slow.”
I expect him to immediately get to it, but instead he places a soft kiss to my lips, like I’m something fragile and precious, his gaze so tender my heart stutters.
He shifts us, arranging me to lie at the center of the bed, before settling over me once more, his lips gentle as they trail down my neck, his tongue sweeping at my pulse points, the heat of his body enveloping me.
His hand snakes down my body, stopping where I’m soaked and ready of him.
He teases me, fingers lazily slipping in and out, flicking at my clit.
His mouth eventually makes it down to my breasts, where he laps at my nipples, swirls his tongue over across the swells, tugs gently at the rosy skin.
I feel him everywhere, like he’s purposefully overwhelming my body in delicious torture.