18. Chapter 18 Bree
Chapter 18: Bree
I wake up with a buzz of excitement low in my belly.
Tonight is the night.
I’m finally going to have sex with Scott Fergus.
Real, toe-curling, life-changing sex, the kind I’ve only dreamed about. And judging by what that man has done to me with his mouth already, I know I’m in for something mind-blowing.
I stretch under the covers, my body still a little sore from yesterday’s work on the cabin. My mind drifts back to the deal we made last night. Casual, no strings, just sex. It’s what I asked for, what I need.
Right?
I push that little flicker of doubt aside. This is about learning what good sex is supposed to feel like, and I trust Scott to teach me. Besides, I’m leaving when my cabin is fixed. That’s the plan. No getting attached.
But, damn, my body is already attached.
I pull on my work clothes, standard leggings and a tank top, and find Scott already up, chopping wood like the rugged mountain man he is. His shirt is off, and his back muscles flex with every swing of the axe. Tattoos ripple across his skin, and I swear I could watch him all day.
I shake my head. Nope, we’ve got work to do. And later? We’ve got a whole other kind of work lined up.
I practically hum with anticipation as we drive to my cabin and start on the cabin repairs. Scott, though, he’s quiet.
Too quiet.
Usually, we banter, me teasing him, him grunting back like the grumpy caveman he is, but today he’s keeping his answers short.
I brush it off at first, thinking maybe he’s just focused. Or tired from his run last night.
But by noon, I’m starting to worry.
“Hey,” I say, pausing as I hand him a water bottle. “Everything okay?”
He nods. “Yeah. Just a lot on my mind.”
I get it. He’s not exactly a man of many words, but I also don’t want him second-guessing what we agreed on.
Because I’m not second-guessing. I’m all in.
I flash him a grin, hoping to lighten the mood. “Well, if you’re stressed about tonight, you shouldn’t be. I’m very low-maintenance. Should I wear something you like? Or cook a fancy meal first? Wine? Candles? You tell me.”
Scott groans, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He doesn’t look at me.
“You don’t need to do any of that, Bree.”
I blink. “Okay… but if you want—”
He cuts me off, voice rough. “I don’t need anything but you.”
Oh.
My heart does this stupid little flip, even though this isn’t supposed to be emotional.Just sex. But still… that was kind of sweet, right?
I nod, trying to play it cool. “Got it. No frills. Just me.”
He lets out a low grunt, his jaw tight as he gets back to work. I can tell he’s holding something back, but I decide to let it go. We’ll work it out later… in bed.
By the time we finish for the day, my body is aching, but I’m still so excited, probably more from the anticipation than anything else. When we get back to his cabin, I sling my bag over my shoulder and smile.
“I’m claiming first shower,” I say, darting inside before he can argue.
I practically skip to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Stripping down, I step under the hot water, letting it work out the tension in my muscles.
This is happening. Finally happening. I’m going to have sex with Scott Fergus!
I lather up, my hands trailing over my curves as I imagine Scott touching me tonight, his rough palms on my hips, his mouth on my breasts, his body pressing mine into his mattress as he finally takes me.
Heat pools low in my belly as I rub soap over my skin, teasing my nipples until they harden under my fingertips. I close my eyes, picturing his face between my legs again, the way he looked at me like he couldn’t get enough.
God, I’m already turned on.
A creak sounds beyond the shower curtain. I freeze, eyes snapping open.
“Scott?”
The curtain shifts, and he’s there, towering, shirtless, his jeans riding low on his hips, those tattoos cutting down his muscled chest.
Holy mother.
He doesn’t speak right away, he just stands there, his eyes dark as they rake over me. The steam from the shower clings to his skin, making him look like some kind of rugged god. His gaze drops to my breasts, then lower, lingering on the curve of my hips and thighs.
I should probably cover myself, maybe even be embarrassed. But I’m not. Not with him.
Finally, he speaks. “This is what I wanted, Bree. Not a meal. Not clothes. Just this.” His eyes burn into mine. “You. Touching yourself. Letting me watch.”
My mouth goes dry. “Holy hell that’s hot.”
“Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I can’t deny the rush of arousal his words spark. My hand trails lower, between my thighs, fingers finding the slick heat already there.
I don’t look away. Neither does he.
I circle my clit slowly, my breath hitching as his eyes darken further. His jaw is tight, his hands clenched at his sides like he’s barely holding himself back.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
The tension crackles between us, I’m already close, just from his gaze, from the low rumble of his voice.
“Let me see you come,” he demands, stepping closer. His fingers brush my cheek, gentle despite the roughness in his tone. “Then I’ll take you to bed and finish what we started.”
That’s all it takes. I shatter, gasping his name as pleasure crashes over me.
Scott catches me before my legs give out, holding me up under the hot spray. His lips brush my forehead, then my temple, and I know—casual or not—this man is about to ruin me in the best possible way.