Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Silas
When Scout arrives, I'm waiting in my living room. My arm's in a sling. Opening the door feels awkward.
Scout's standing there with her curly hair down, wearing yoga pants, a purple tank top, and a white cardigan. She has an oversized duffel over her shoulder, two yoga mats under her arm, and a suitcase trailing behind her.
That's all she needs?
"Am I early?" she asks.
I step back. "You're fine. It's not like I have anywhere to be."
Scout comes inside and sets down her stuff.
"You're supposed to be on complete bed rest." She looks me up and down, frowning when she sees my black jeans and black t-shirt. "You should be in sweats." She shoos me toward my bedroom.
"I'll go back to bed when I'm tired."
I lean down to pick up her duffel bag and she yanks it out of my hand, giving me a hostile glare. "I've got this. Bed, now."
I grit my teeth. "You're not the boss of me."
"I am, though. That's why I'm here, Silas." She starts to herd me into the hallway, toward my bedroom. All the condos are the same here in the Sinclair, so it doesn't shock me Scout knows her way around. But her attitude surprises me. I've never seen her scowl at anyone else.
"What the fuck?"
When she's about three inches away, moving toward me with her hands up like she's trying to prevent my escape, I step back.
"Yeah, what the fuck," she echoes. "That's what I'm wondering. Did I make a mistake in agreeing to this? The doctors and nurses at the rehab clinic wouldn't put up with you being an asshole. They'd sedate you if needed."
I snort. "Would not."
"That's enough out of you." She keeps walking, forcing me to move. She can tell I don't want her to touch me. That would be crossing some sort of invisible line I've drawn in my head.
"Wait, wait. What if I want to rest in the living room?"
Scout pauses. "Will you change into more comfortable clothes first?"
I glance down at myself. "I'm fine. What's wrong with jeans?"
"We both know you wouldn't be wearing jeans if I wasn't here."
"Yeah, well. If you weren't here, there's a good chance I'd be naked. So you can deal with jeans as a compromise."
"Silas." She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. "The point I'm trying to make is that you should be in your softest sweatpants. You don't need to try to impress anyone, least of all me."
"I'm not," I grate out.
"Fine." She rolls her lips, drops her arms, and looks around. "Your condo's exactly what I expected. An absence of… almost everything."
She thought about what my living space would be like? That makes me tense. I look around, trying to see things from her perspective.
My place is concrete floors, steel appliances, and leather furniture in black and gray. No art on the walls. No rugs to soften the echo. The only color comes from the red light on the espresso machine and the green temperature display on the fridge.
She turns in a slow circle, taking it all in. Her mouth lifts into something between a smile and a wince. The fact that she doesn't seem to approve of my condo shouldn't mean anything to me, but it doesn't sit well. I don't have a lot of stuff, but everything's top of the line.
What could I possibly add that would make the space better? Nothing, I reason.
"Let's get this over with." I turn and head back toward my bedroom. "Guest room's down the hall. We'll have to share the bathroom."
She follows me, padding along in damp sneakers, looking at everything like she's cataloging evidence.
We come to her temporary bedroom and I stop outside as she walks in.
I feel suddenly conscious of how empty the room is.
Just a bed with two white pillows and a lamp with a small LED bulb.
The closet's empty. The nightstand drawer holds a spare phone charger and a Sudoku book.
That's it.
She lowers the duffel onto the bed and exhales like the shape of the room's pressing on her lungs. "Okay." Then softer, "I know you don't want anyone in your space, Silas. I promise to be as quiet and stay out of your way as much as possible."
"It's done now." I shrug, then wince. I shouldn't have tried to move my shoulder yet.
Scout's eyes cut to my right arm. "You're hurting."
"I'm fine."
"You're not." Her voice gentles. Not condescending. Not pitying. Just certain. She motions to the bed. "Sit. Let me make it hurt less."
"I said..."
Her eyes flash. "Silas, don't be so stubborn. Sit."
I should walk away. I don't. My legs carry me to the bed. I sit.
Scout's thumbs press into my shoulder blade. Heat shoots down my spine.
Everything goes rigid. Her fingers find the knot that's been bothering me all day. Small, strong, deliberate pressure through my shirt.
I haven't been touched like this in years. Not with care. My body doesn't know what to do with it. I sag forward slightly, my eyes closing without permission.
"This is just pressure," she says quietly. "Breathe in for four. Out for six."
"I'm not..." Her thumb finds the knot under my shoulder socket.
White fire explodes.
A sound tears out of me. Raw and loud in the quiet room. She's not even touching me sexually, but my body responds anyway. My cock stirs, awakened from his slumber. Fucking asshole.
My face burns. Scout doesn't stop. Another involuntary sound scrapes up my throat. I clamp my jaw.
"Breathe," she murmurs. Closer now. "That's it. In. Out."
I try. It comes out ragged. The knot gives a fraction. She works it steady and present.
My hands fist in the comforter. Another sound leaks out.
Scout shifts her touch and the world tilts. Heat races down my arm. My breath hitches before I strangle it.
Every point of contact burns. I'm starving for this. Touch without expectations? My whole body's screaming for her to never quit. But my brain is flashing bright red warning signals.
"Stop," I rasp. Not because it hurts. Because it feels good.
Scout's hands still immediately. "Okay." No argument. She steps back.
I get to my feet. The room tilts for half a second. My shoulder throbs.
"Okay."
She narrows her eyes on my face, but doesn't say anything. I don't look at her response too closely. If she's pitying me, I'll choke. If she's not, I'll choke anyway.
I mumble out an excuse that doesn't do much to cover up what just happened. "I have to... go... lie down."
I make it down the hall on legs that feel miswired. My bedroom door shuts with a sharp sound. I hit the lock and crumple on the big bed.
I close my eyes for several long seconds. When I open them again, my phone's already in my hand, though I don't remember taking it out.
The app stares up at me, alive. Her username at the top of the thread. Yoga4Lyfe. Ridiculous. Bright. She's not ten feet away in the guest bedroom and I'm pretending she's miles away. She's too close.
Now that I've retreated into my cave, I can say things in this room, in the dark, with a fake name, that I cannot make my mouth form. I can still feel the ghost of her touch against my shoulder. My dick is still hard.
My thumbs hover on the screen.
StatMan12
You there?
It only takes a few moments for Scout to respond.
Yoga4Lyfe
I am.
StatMan12
I'm needy.
Yoga4Lyfe
Oh? Tell me more.
StatMan12
I want you spread out under me, sobbing into my hands while I ruin you.
I close my eyes. One beat, two, then my phone vibrates.
Yoga4Lyfe
That's filthy.
I want you to tell me more.
A noise cracks out of me, less of a laugh than something shattered. I type before shame can overcome me.
StatMan12
I want my face buried between your legs until you can't remember your name. Your curls belong wrapped around my fist. You should beg me, because I want nothing more than to see you wrecked. I want it so bad I can taste you. I want to ruin your pussy.
Silence stretches long enough to make my pulse ring in my ears. Then her reply comes through.
Yoga4Lyfe
What would you do with your hands? I want you to tell me everything.
I swear softly under my breath. My hands, shaking when she pressed into that knot in my shoulder. Gripping the duvet because I didn't know what else to do with them.
I suck in a breath and move back on the bed, laying back amongst the pillows. My erection thickens. The urge to pull my dick out and rub one out's nearly overwhelming. But Scout's too close for me to do that without feeling like a fucking creep. So I just tell her what I'm thinking about instead.
StatMan12: One hand on your throat, just enough pressure to tell you where I want you.
The other on your hip, keeping you exactly there while I lick you open.
I suck your clit, shove two fingers into that hot pussy, and enjoy the sounds you make.
I don't stop until you're shaking so hard you beg. I don’t stop then, either.
My heart's a fist slamming against my ribs from the inside. The bedroom feels too small. The wall between us might as well be skin.
Her reply comes delayed and then not.
Yoga4Lyfe
That’s not what a nice man would say. Are you nice, StatMan?
StatMan12
No. I'm not nice. I'm not soft. I'm not built for gentle. I’m built for ruining your pussy, stretching you out, making you mine.
Another buzz.
Yoga4Lyfe
Oh, god…
I set the phone down and press my hands into my eyes.
I can smell her on my shirt. Lavender and eucalyptus.
She's Enzo's ex. Off limits. Forbidden. It’s better if I remember that and don’t start pining after her again.