23. Chapter 23 Scott
Chapter 23: Scott
O ne last night.
That’s what she said.
Like it’s nothing. Like this thing between us was just sex, just a damn lesson she needed, and now she’s heading back to her life. Leaving me behind like all I was good for was showing her what good sex is supposed to feel like.
I grip the edge of the kitchen counter so hard my knuckles go white.
Fuck that.
She’s not leaving. She can say it all she wants, but she’s mine.
I’ve spent the last week waking up with her warm body pressed against me, tasting her every morning before the sun’s even up, hearing her soft gasps as I drag her over the edge with my mouth, my fingers.
I know her body better than she does now. I know how she likes it, slow and deep when she’s feeling vulnerable, rough and dirty when she’s feeling bold.
I know how she looks when she comes, and I know she’s starting to love this mountain again. She’s starting to love me, even if she’s too scared to admit it.
So, yeah. One last night, my ass.
Tonight, I’m going to make damn sure she never wants to leave.
I’ll make her come so many times she forgets what city life even is. I’ll cover her in my seed, so every time she moves, she feels me, ao every step she takes tomorrow, she remembers who she belongs to.
And after that? I’m asking her to stay.
Fuck Jake. I’ll deal with him later. Bree is mine.
I start setting things up. Candles, hell, I don’t know where Clara found these, but they’re here, so I light them. Fresh sheets on the bed. Dinner? Who cares? We won’t need it.
I hear Bree in the shower, her soft humming drifting through the cabin, and my dick stirs just from the sound of her.
I picture her wet, soapy, that curvy ass pressed against the glass, her body marked by me.
Soon.
I’m pulling off my shirt, ready to join her, when there’s a knock at the door.
I freeze.
Nobody knocks on my door. Not this late.
Another knock. Louder this time.
I yank the door open, already half pissed off, ready to tell Hank or Clara or whoever the hell it is, to come back tomorrow.
Fuck. It’s not them.
It’s Jake.
Bree’s brother. My best friend.
Fuck.
His eyes narrow as he takes me in, shirtless, jeans unbuttoned. He’s not stupid. He knows what this looks like.
“Where is she?” Jake asks, voice tight.
My stomach twists. “She’s… here. Showering.”
His jaw twitches. “You going to invite me in, or we having this talk on the porch?”
I step aside. This is not how tonight was supposed to go.
Jake walks in, eyes sweeping over the cozy, lived-in state of the cabin. Bree’s stuff is everywhere. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.
“You sleeping with my sister?” he asks, an edge to his voice that makes it clear this isn’t just friendly curiosity.
I straighten up, squaring my shoulders. “Yeah.”
His eyes flash, and for a second, I think he’s going to swing. I almost hope he does, I could use the release. Then he stops.
“You promised, Scott. You promised you’d look out for her, not—”
“I am looking out for her,” I snap, stepping forward. “And I’m not fucking around with her. I care about her.”
He stares at me, breathing hard, fists clenching at his sides.
“You serious about this?” he demands.
Dead serious.
But before I can say it, Bree’s voice floats in from the hallway.
“Scott, have you seen my—”
She stops dead in her tracks.
Standing there in nothing but a towel, damp hair clinging to her shoulders, she freezes as she sees her brother. Her face goes pale, then bright red.
“Oh, shit,” she mutters.
Jake’s eyes narrow, looking between the two of us.
Bree’s gaze locks onto mine, wide and panicked.
This isn’t how I wanted it.I was going to make tonight perfect and show her how good we could be together. I was going to ask her to stay and to be mine, forever.
This just isn’t how it was supposed to go.