Chapter 6
6
SEAN
T his was the best day of my life. No question about it.
It had started like every other day. I grabbed a cup of coffee and got to work on things around the house. The No Trespassing sign was a last-minute decision, and now I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if I’d ignored that particular chore on my list. I would have never met Bronte. And I certainly wouldn’t be standing here in my workshop while she settled onto a stool with her second drink in hand.
I pulled my worktable in front of me and grabbed a small block of wood. I kept plenty of them around—scraps from my day’s work. This would be the perfect size for what I planned to do.
But then I looked at her and questioned all of this. What if it didn’t live up to her expectations? Did she have expectations? I was basically carving her nude, but curves only. I wouldn’t be adding nipples or any other details.
“Do you want me to take something off?” she asked. “Would that help?”
Her question drew my attention back to her face. I’d been looking down at the block, thinking through what I was going to do, but now I could only stare at her. Had she just offered what I thought?
“You’re not wearing layers,” I said.
Was I blowing this? I should have just said yes. Jump on the opportunity when it was presented to me. What was wrong with me?
“I know.” She looked down. “But this blouse is kind of loose-fitting. It’s hard to see what’s under there, right?”
She was right about that. When I’d first met her, she’d worn running gear, and it had all been form-fitting. Her curves were highlighted perfectly. That image was imprinted on my brain. But yes, if I had only the blouse she wore now to go by, I’d be at a loss. My imagination would have to do a lot of the heavy lifting.
“Maybe if I just show some cleavage,” she said.
She set the glass on the shelf next to her—a shelf that held several of my carvings—and reached for the top button of her shirt. My dick immediately jumped to life.
I should say no. A gentleman would say no, right? And a good host would put her comfort first. Sitting there with her shirt half undone would definitely not be comfortable, but it would make me just about the happiest guy on Earth.
I should look away, act like this was no big deal. But I couldn’t. I was staring like a teenager who’d never seen a woman unbutton her blouse before. I had to force my jaw to stay in place to avoid gaping at her like a moron.
The top button was already undone, but she kept her gaze down as she went for the second one, then the third. By the fourth button, serious cleavage was showing. I could even see that she wore a gray bra.
“More?” she asked, lifting her head.
Now my mouth fell open. I had to force my eyes to stay on her face, but I was definitely checking her out in my peripheral vision. The woman had the largest breasts I’d ever seen in person, including the strip clubs I was dragged to with friends in my younger years. Watching women take their clothes off for tips had never been my thing.
This was my thing. This gorgeous woman showing me so much of her body. Of course, she wasn’t completely naked. In fact?—
“It’s nothing more than what you’d show if you were at the beach,” I said with a shrug. “Or hanging out at the swimming pool.”
She laughed. “Yeah, cleavage-wise, you’re right, but my bathing suit is a modest one-piece. But, you know, you make a good point.”
And then, without further comment, she started unbuttoning the rest of her blouse. I hadn’t expected that to happen. Not in my wildest dreams would I have imagined something I’d say would make this beautiful woman bare more of her body.
Guys worked for years to refine their pickup game, and I didn’t care anything about any of that. What I did care about was making sure this woman felt safe and comfortable. That was far more important than seeing her naked, and seeing her naked was pretty damn important.
“Wait!” I said. “I don’t want you to think that I expect this.”
Her fingers stopped moving over the buttons. I wanted to take back my words, if only to get those fingers moving again. But that was my body doing the talking. My brain knew this was the right thing to do.
“I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” I said. “I can carve just fine without.”
As if to demonstrate, I turned to grab some tools from the table behind me. When I flipped back around, her hands were on her lap and she looked hurt.
Oh crap, I’d been the one to cause that pain. That was the last thing I’d ever want to do. I scrambled for a way to make it right.
“I suck at this,” I said. I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them again. “I told you I’ve been living up here alone a while. But I was never really all that good at getting women into bed. I hated the whole game of it all. I just wanted a woman I could be open and honest with.”
Her expression changed then, softening considerably. The pain seemed to disappear from her eyes. That was a good sign.
“I’ve never done any of this,” she said. “I’ve had men try to pick me up, but not anyone I’d even consider sleeping with. I feel like I’ve spent my whole life waiting for something.”
She didn’t say more. But what I wanted to hear was that she’d spent her whole life waiting to meet me. It was too early for that, though.
Was that how I felt? The more I thought about it, the more I decided, yes, it was. I’d waited my whole life to meet Bronte. The funny thing was, I didn’t even know her last name, but I was sure she was the woman for me.
“Do you want me to keep my clothes on?” she asked.
“Hell no.”
The words flew out of my mouth. I winced. I hadn’t meant to be so blunt. What was wrong with me?
But a smile spread over her face, making it well worth it. Okay, so maybe she thought I was a total perv, but she didn’t say another word. She just started unbuttoning.
Only a few buttons remained, and the shirt was completely undone. She pulled it off, dropping it to the floor, and there she sat, wearing only that gray bra. I had to force my attention off her and back to my carving. I was here to work, not to gawk.
But damn, those tits were beautiful. Perfect. I wanted more than anything to touch them. To remove that bra and run my thumbs over her nipples, followed by my tongue. I’d kiss my way down that gorgeous body of hers, undo her pants, and?—
“I think I should take off the pants too,” she said.
I looked up to see she’d grabbed the glass and was taking another sip from it. She’d barely touched it since I’d freshened it up for her. I only put a small amount of brandy in the drink, so it was mostly orange liqueur and lime juice. Maybe she thought the alcohol was what was giving her courage.
“You don’t have to,” I said, looking up at her. Then, remembering the hurt look I’d spotted in her eyes earlier, I quickly added, “Unless you want to.”
“I want you to sculpt me naked.”
Sculpt me. I knew that probably had everything to do with the wood on the table in front of me and not what she wanted me to do to her specifically. But my cock heard it another way. As it pressed against the zipper of my jeans, all I could think about was running my hands over her body the way I smoothed out my carvings.
I began working as Bronte stood and unbuttoned her pants, letting them drop to the floor. She kicked off her shoes, and that left her only in her underwear and socks.
As she settled back on the stool, my erection became downright painful. My cock was begging to be set free. I had to keep it under control, though. If she knew what was going on over here, she’d definitely label me a pervert.
“Have you ever sculpted a naked woman before?” she asked.
“You’re not completely naked,” I said. “But no, not even close. I just started wood sculpting when I moved here. I never really considered myself an artist. But one day, I found a piece of wood that looked like an apple, stem and all. I brought it home and got to thinking. There are bear carvings all over town. Shops full of them. It’s a tourist thing. If people can carve wood into bears, why not other shapes?”
As I talked, I got to work. I was already rounding off the area that would be her head. It took almost every ounce of concentration to not think about the way those breasts strained the fabric of her bra. Her cleavage was so abundant, my imagination was going wild.
“And you’ve never thought about selling this stuff?” she asked. “I’m sure the local shops would love it. You could maybe even sell them in the lobby of the ski lodge. You’re a local resident, after all. There’s probably nobody else doing stuff like that here in Seduction Summit.”
I shook my head. “I love doing this. It’s relaxing. But my work gets me out of the cabin. I wouldn’t want to be cooped up here all day working.”
And yes, I was aware that I could do this and still get out in nature. It wasn’t an either-or proposition. I just didn’t see myself giving up working as part of a team, even as much of a loner as I was.
No, this would probably always be fun for me. Nothing more, nothing less.
“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Her sudden statement made me aware of the silence that had stretched between us for a while. I was so caught up in my work—not to mention trying to shut out the nearly naked woman seated just feet away from me—that the silence hadn’t really bugged me yet.
I lowered the tool in my right hand and looked at her, really processing what she’d said over the past hour or so. “Can I ask something?” I asked after wrestling with how to word the question for several long seconds.
She nodded. “Anything.”
That permission alone went straight to my heart. She trusted me. She wanted to be open with me. I could ask her anything.
I loved that, but I also felt the weight of the responsibility. I never wanted to break that trust, not as long as I lived.
“You’ve mentioned you’ve never done anything like this before,” I said. “Have you…?”
Crap, this wasn’t as easy as I might have thought it would be. I couldn’t seem to force out the question. She’d said ask me anything, but I didn’t want to overstep her boundaries.
“No,” she said. “I’ve never slept with a man. I’ve had kisses. None were all that good, though. I’ve never been kissed by a real man.”
Real man? I wasn’t sure what that even meant. But she was in her twenties, so I could only assume she meant an older man. A man who knew what he was doing. If the bar was set that low, I probably could live up to her expectations. At least I hoped I could.
“If I take my bra off, would that help?” she asked.
My eyes widened. I should say no. I didn’t need the bra off to carve her image. Saying no would be the gentlemanly thing to do. But the woman was sitting here in her underwear. Gentlemanly flew out the window a while ago.
So despite myself, I found words coming out of my mouth as my cock pressed painfully against my jeans. “Yes. Take off your bra.”