Chapter 9
“It’s fine, Cece. It’s no big deal. Every woman has a vibrator, and just because a stupidly handsome polar bear shifter happened to see yours is nothing to freak out about.” Cece told her bathroom mirror reflection.
He also saw your underwear.
Yes, she remembered.
She sighed loudly before pulling her wet hair into a bun on top of her head. She couldn’t hide in her bedroom forever. She zipped a hoodie over her t-shirt and considered pulling sweatpants over her leggings before leaving the bedroom.
Thanks to her shower, she was finally feeling warm.
She hated having to go back out in the cold, but she needed firewood chopped.
It would be dark soon, and she could tell just by how little heat was trickling from the registers that it would be a ‘sleep in front of the fireplace’ kind of night.
She would chop enough to get her through the night.
Chopping more would be tomorrow’s problem.
She walked downstairs and peeked into the living room. Briggs was standing near the bay window, texting rapidly on his phone. She studied his ass and his thick thighs before creeping down the hallway and into the kitchen.
Gawking at and lusting over her bodyguard made her feel like she was in some weird romance movie. She needed to figure out how to make peace with the witches after her, and get Briggs the hell out of her house before her magic made her do something she would regret.
She wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening, but her attraction to Briggs was accompanied by a steadily growing pulse of her magic. Her magic wanted him, and Cece was a little alarmed by how difficult it was to contain the magic.
But would it be so bad to fuck Briggs? To give in to what her magic wanted, what it needed and -
Cece, no! Don’t start thinking like that. You control your magic. It doesn’t control you.
She repeated that under her breath as she grabbed her work gloves from the bench by the back door and stepped outside. She immediately began to shiver and considered grabbing her jacket, but she knew from experience that she would be too hot after only a few swings.
She walked across the backyard, breathing deep of the cold, clean air and studying the forest at the far end of the yard.
She couldn’t see anything in the trees, but she was suddenly uneasy.
It wouldn’t be difficult for someone to hide in the thick trees, to wait and watch for her to walk out alone and defenceless, and then -
“What are you doing?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin and only just managed not to scream when she heard Briggs’s deep voice right behind her.
She whirled around, her heart banging against her ribcage. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Briggs studied the woods before inhaling deeply.
She glanced behind her. “Do you, um, smell anyone?”
“No.” His gaze returned to hers. “Rule number one - you don’t leave the house without telling me. In fact, you don’t go anywhere without telling me. Is that clear?”
“So, I’m your prisoner?” she said.
“Call it whatever you want,” he said, “but don’t leave the fucking house without telling me.”
“Fine! God,” she said. Shivering, she headed toward the massive pile of logs, yanking the axe out of the large stump she used as a chopping block.
“What are you doing?” Briggs asked.
“Chopping wood,” she said a bit snottily.
She set the axe down on the stump and eyed the logs before grabbing one of the smaller ones. She’d almost died the night before last. She didn’t have it in her to pick up one of the larger ones.
That’s some bullshit right there. Thanks to Ronin, you’re completely healed. You don’t want Briggs watching you sweating and struggling to carry it.
She ignored her inner voice and carried the log to the stump. She set it on the stump and picked up the axe, acutely aware of Briggs’s gaze.
She raised the axe and, with a loud grunt, swung it downward. It hit the log dead center but barely penetrated the wood, and she grimaced and pulled the axe free. Before she could swing again, Briggs moved in and held out his hand. “Give me the axe.”
She considered saying something snarky about not needing a man to chop her wood, but she was already freezing, and God, she really did hate this particular chore.
She handed him the axe and her work gloves and backed away.
She watched silently as Briggs pulled on the gloves, set his feet, raised the axe and…
holy fuck… split the log with one swing.
He picked up one half, set it on the stump and split it in half before doing the same with the second half.
He stacked the split pieces neatly a few feet from the stump before choosing another log from the wood pile.
It was much bigger than the piece she chose, and her mouth dropped when he swung the axe and split it in half like it was butter.
He rested the axe on the stump. “Go inside before you freeze to death.”
“I only need enough for tonight,” she said. “I can chop more tomorrow.”
He just nodded and, after a moment, she turned and headed back into the house.
It wasn’t that much warmer than outside, and she slipped on some fingerless gloves and jammed a knitted hat on her head.
She grabbed the ground beef from the fridge and heated some oil in a pan.
She’d originally planned to make a sandwich for dinner and leave Briggs to his own devices for his dinner, but the man was out there chopping firewood for her.
It wouldn’t kill her to make a quick pasta dish for them to share.
Everyone liked pasta, right? She wasn’t sure how much Briggs ate, but she suspected it was a lot, so she doubled the pasta and chopped more veggies than usual to add to the sauce as the meat browned.
She added the vegetables to the pan, sautéed them, and seasoned them.
She grabbed a bottle of pasta sauce from the pantry, mixed it in with the meat and vegetables and left it to simmer.
The window over the sink looked out over the backyard, and as she carried over the pasta pot, she glanced out the window.
“Holy shit.” She stared in shock at the pile of split wood, barely able to comprehend how much Briggs had chopped in the short amount of time.
Her gaze moved to Briggs, and an undignified squeak escaped her mouth.
She gripped the sink edge as a powerful wave of lust rolled through her.
Despite how cold it was outside, Briggs had shed his long-sleeved shirt to reveal - sweet baby Jesus - a white tank top that clung to his broad chest and flat stomach.
She watched in a thick fog of desire as Briggs raised the axe above his head and brought it down with a whistling thud. The log split with a crack, and she stared shamelessly at Brigg’s rippling, flexing biceps as he picked up the log and set it on the stump.
“I think I might be starring in a real-life lumberjack porno,” she said, her voice soft and full of undeniable lust. “That’s what this is, right?”
Take a picture! Dear God, woman, take a picture.
Instead of giving in to her inner voice, she filled the pot with water and peeled her gaze from a wood chopping Briggs with real effort. She could feel her magic flickering in her veins, and a heady rush of excitement and lust made her knuckles glow a light green as she set the pot on the stove.
She didn’t need pictures to remember this moment.
Nope, the vision of Briggs in nothing but jeans and a tank top in her backyard, swinging an axe like her own personal lumberjack, was forever burned into her brain.
The last three minutes had given her enough material for her spank bank for the next year.
“I can’t believe how much wood you chopped.” The little witch had followed him from the kitchen into the living room, watching silently as he stacked an armful of wood next to the fireplace before starting a fire.
Briggs shrugged, straightening to watch as she crossed the room to pull the curtains closed. She wore leggings that hugged her perfect ass, and he could barely control the urge to follow her across the room and cup it.
She turned, and he cursed inwardly at being caught leering at her. Christ, he needed to get his shit together.
Her cheeks a little flushed, she cleared her throat. “Thank you for doing that. Seriously. The amount you chopped in an hour would have taken me at least six hours. Now I won’t have to chop for a few days, and you have no idea how happy that makes me.”
We’ve pleased our mate! His bear was fucking giddy.
“It’s not a problem,” he said. “I’ll chop more tomorrow.”
“Oh, no, that’s, um, okay. I wasn’t trying to hint that I wanted you to chop more,” she said.
“I know.”
They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before Cece said, “Do you like pasta? I made pasta for dinner.”
“You’re not required to feed me,” he said.
“You just chopped up two trees for me,” she said. “I’m gonna feed you. If you don’t like pasta, I -”
“I like pasta,” he said.
“Okay, well then, um, let’s eat.” She smiled awkwardly at him before heading toward the kitchen. He followed her, staring unabashedly at her ass the entire trip to the kitchen.
Cece took off her hat, smoothing her hair self-consciously, before stripping off her gloves. “So, the kitchen is a little warmer because I was cooking, but we can eat in the living room in front of the fire if you’re cold.”
“I never get cold,” he said.
“Ever?”
He shook his head, and she gave his body an envious look that did more to his cock than it should have. Embarrassed that just the little witch looking at him was enough to give him half a woody, he pointed to the cupboards, his voice on the gruff side. “Why don’t you have cupboard doors?”
Every cupboard in the kitchen was missing a door, and while everything in the cupboards was stacked and arranged neatly, he didn’t think it was a purposeful look to have them open.
“Oh, uh, Aunt Sybil wanted to paint the cupboards, so she and I took all the doors off,” Cece said. “The doors need to be sanded and fixed up a bit. We were going to do it, but then my aunt, she…”