Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
SCOTTIE
“Thanks,” I say, taking a rolled-up cob of corn in foil from Wilder.
“Sure,” he says as he sits back against a rock, since there was only one chair provided in the bin. And even though I’m irritated with him, he’s still a gentleman and let me have the chair.
After we set up the tent, Wilder took a walk in the woods, sticking somewhat close to camp while I tried to adjust the tent and make it less crooked. Unfortunately for me, I knocked it down just as Wilder came back.
So we spent another half hour straightening it and making sure it wouldn’t tip over in the middle of the night. You’d think that the tent would be something that could easily pop up, but no, this is a tent from the seventies with rust and broken ties. I swear they provided this tent on purpose so couples have to work together to erect it. Well, job well done. Only problem is I think it made things worse.
After a few seconds of silence, I say, “How long do you think they’re going to leave us here? Like do you think they’re coming back tonight?”
“No.” He shakes his head and bites away at his corn. “We are here for the night.”
“They can do that?”
“I mean, if we really wanted to, we could try to hike back to camp, but I’m not really into the whole hiking-at-night thing.”
“Me either.” I sigh. “Does this mean we have to talk about our problems?”
“No,” he says. “You can do whatever the hell you want.”
I don’t like this side of him. And sure, I’ve only known him for a few days now, but I’ve gotten to know him well enough to see that when he’s free-spirited and having fun, he’s really great to be around. I feed off his energy, and he actually makes me feel better about everything. Not so uptight.
But this side of him. This indifferent side? It’s not fun. It’s not pleasant. And it’s very cold.
And I don’t think I can last another however many more days we have here together, so I decide to do something about it.
“About last night?—”
“We don’t need to talk about it.”
“I think I need to,” I say softly, which of course pulls his attention. I’m learning that even though he might be irritated with the entire situation, he’s still a good guy at heart. He’s a guy who will sit and listen if he hears that someone needs that kind of attention.
“Okay.” He turns toward me. “Do you want to start?”
“Yeah.” I set my corn on the cob down on my foil. “I have a whole bunch of feelings from last night.”
“Start with the first one you felt.”
This is what I’m talking about. He’s a good guy. Instead of getting defensive and wanting to be the one who is right all the time—something Matt would do—he intently listens, asks me to speak my feelings. It’s so…healthy.
“I was confused at first, because…well, I’ve never really had anyone stand up for me like you did. It was different, and I didn’t know how to react really.”
“That’s understandable.”
“And then when I did figure out how to react, that reaction turned into embarrassment. I was embarrassed that they were talking about us. I was embarrassed that you were handing out dildos, and then, when we were in the cabin, I was embarrassed that you thought I was making excuses for them.”
He slowly nods. “Okay. What else?”
Taking a deep breath, I make eye contact with him and say, “And I didn’t like it when you asked if I made excuses for my ex.”
He wipes his fingers on a napkin. “Yeah, that was really shitty of me, Scottie. I’m sorry. You deserve better than to be questioned like that. I fucked up and should not have said that.”
Wow.
Just…wow.
I don’t think I’ve ever in my entire life had someone apologize to me like that, taking full ownership and not even coming up with an excuse. Just a straight-up apology. It nearly throws me off.
“Th-thank you,” I say, stunned.
“Did you have any other feelings?”
“I think those were the main ones.”
“Okay, well, I’m sorry that I embarrassed you. That was not my intention. I was frustrated with how they were treating you, how they were treating us, and I lost control. I don’t like it when people are picked on. I’ve had to deal with that nearly my whole life?—”
“You were picked on?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, Mika was.”
“Oh,” I say softly, completely understanding.
“He was always different, and the people around us made sure he knew.” He stares off toward the forest, probably thinking about the past. “There have been many times in my life when I’ve stood up to kids bigger than me because Mika wouldn’t stand up for himself. I’ve taken fist after fist to the face for Mika, but I regret nothing.”
My heart aches as I think about Wilder taking hits for his brother. He’s such a good guy. Guilt consumes me about how we’ve been fighting, how we’ve been ignoring each other. Sure, what he did was embarrassing, but in the long run, he was trying to stick up for me in the best way that he could, and maybe that’s something I need to start recognizing. That maybe, in this situation, I’m not entirely alone. Maybe I need to start trusting people again.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, but Mika is really lucky to have you as a brother.”
“Thank you,” he says softly.
“And I’m sorry that I got angry with you. I should have seen that you were just trying to protect me. I guess I’m just not used to such selfless behavior, so I didn’t know how to react.”
He slowly nods. “Well, let this be the standard,” he says. “You should accept nothing less from here on out from the people you surround yourself with.”
“You’re right.” I stand from the chair. “Can I give you a hug?”
He nods and sets his food down too. He closes the space between us and wraps his arms around me in a tight, comforting hug.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him as I press my face to his chest.
“I’m sorry too, Pips.” His cheek leans on the top of my head as he holds me tight. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“I know,” I answer.
And then we stand there, holding each other for longer than I expected to be holding him. Yet it doesn’t feel strange. I don’t feel the need to pull away from him. I don’t feel awkward. I actually feel like…like this all seems right. And that realization seems stranger than him actually holding me.
When he pulls away, he tilts my chin up and asks, “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Are you?”
He nods. “Better now.” He lets out a breath and asks, “Did you see if they had any sweets in the food bin?”
I let out a laugh. “I don’t know. Let me check.”
“God, it’s so quiet out here,” I say, looking around at the dark woods surrounding us. “Like, eerily quiet. Makes me feel uneasy.”
“Same,” he says as he leans against my legs while he sits on the ground in front of me. I offered him the chair, but he told me to keep it. He didn’t have a problem sitting on the ground; he just needed something to lean against. That turned into my legs, and oddly, I like it. “Look at us city folk surviving the outdoors.”
“Surely you’ve gone camping before though.”
“Yeah,” he answers. “Many times actually. I’ve done a few trips here and there on my own. Nothing too far from home, but this isn’t new to me.”
“Uh-huh, so then why was it so difficult to erect the tent?”
“Because that thing was made in the seventies and shouldn’t be around anymore. Tents are easier now. Some of them you just blow with air and it’s up.”
“Blow it with air and it’s up. You heard that, right?”
He turns to look at me. “I think sleeping in that cabin is making you perverted. Good thing you’re getting some fresh air tonight.”
“Good thing,” she says. “Who knows what I might have said if I stayed in there another night.”
“For real, you might start asking where the titty tassels are so you can perform.”
“Is that actually attractive? Like, do people really like that? Swinging tassels from a breast?”
“I mean, they have to be somewhat popular if they’re still something. For me personally, I’d prefer to just have nipples in my face. They don’t need to be covered up.”
“Just pierced…right?” I tease.
He chuckles. “Listen, I was with a girl once who had pierced nipples, and they were just as much of a treat for me as they were for her.”
“Really?”
He nods and stokes the fire in front of him with a stick. “She loved them, and she loved when I played with them. We’re talking feral behavior. And hell, they were nice. She had great tits too, so they worked well on her.”
I don’t know why I feel a little awkward with him talking about someone else’s boobs, but I do.
“Is that, uh, something you look for in a woman? Piercings?”
“Nah, that’s a superficial requirement. If she has piercings, that’s just a pleasant surprise. I wouldn’t fuck someone just because of that.”
“Oh, you, uh, you wouldn’t?”
He shakes his head. “Now, I’m not saying that I haven’t made a mistake here or there, but for the most part, before I fuck someone, I have to have a connection with them, you know? Can’t really go after the empty vase. The woman needs some substance to her.”
“You don’t find a man who says that very often.”
He shrugs. “I’m not like every other man.”
That’s for certain. I’ve come to find that out very quickly. In fact, their parents did a great job raising their boys. It stands to reason that Wilder would be as good a man as his brother.
“What about you?”
“Oh, um, I’ve only ever been with my ex, Matt.”
He turns. “Wait, really?”
I nod. “Yup. Just him. We met in college. That’s when I lost my virginity, and yup, I’ve only ever known sex with him.”
“That’s…kind of sweet in a way.”
“Would have been if we didn’t end up getting a divorce. Now I’m a twenty-nine-year-old who has only ever slept with one man. I mean…what if I do it wrong?”
“Probably not the case.”
“ Could be the case, as things definitely petered out toward the end of the marriage.”
“That doesn’t mean you were doing it wrong,” he says. “That just means that you two weren’t compatible anymore. Having compatibility with your partner is really important. Without compatibility, there’s no urgency to want to fuck each other.”
“Yeah, there was no urgency at all. He barely even looked at me in the final months of our marriage. He was more invested in his online gaming than in me.”
“Sad,” he says. “Because you’re far more fascinating than any online game.” My cheeks heat up as he turns to look at me. When those light gray eyes connect with mine, he says, “His fucking loss, another man’s gain.” Then he stands from the ground and stretches out before dusting his butt off. “Okay, I think it’s time for bed.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, unsure what to do with myself after that comment.
“I think I saw a toiletry bag in the bin.” He rifles around and then pulls out a bag. “Yup. Here’s a toothbrush and some toothpaste. Oh, and some biodegradable toilet paper and hand sanitizer. I can get the sleeping bags set up while you take care of business.”
“Thanks,” I say.
He points to a large tree and says, “That might be a good spot. Take a bottle of water with you.”
Not comfortable with this at all, I walk over to the tree, and before I can even consider starting to get ready, he jogs after me with a flashlight.
“Hold on. Let me check and see if there is any poison ivy. Squatting over that would not be fun.” He checks around the tree and then nods. “You’re good. Do you want to keep this flashlight so you can see better?”
“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”
“Holler if you need anything.”
He jogs off, and for a second, I watch him. Never would I have imagined that the man I met on the street that one Friday morning would turn out to be so kind…thoughtful…caring. The way he uses his words makes me feel important, validated. His attitude toward the whole camp, so positive compared to what I was living with for so long. Matt was always negative, always complaining about something. It…it took a toll on me. So being around Wilder feels like a breath of fresh air.
Awkwardly, I take care of business, hating every second of it. I’m so not an outdoorsy girl. And because I was so scared of peeing all over my only pair of clothes, I took my underwear and pants off, peed, and then slipped everything else back on. I will dehydrate myself before I have to do that again. Mark my words.
I brush my teeth next and then head back to camp, where Wilder is standing in front of the tent with a worried look on his face.
“What?” I ask. “Oh God, did you see me with my pants off back there?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Uh, I was just setting up the tent, and it seems like there’s only one large sleeping bag…for two.”
I gulp, because I think we all know what that means.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yeah, I scoured the bin. And there’s only one pillow. I think that was their intention.”
“You could say that,” I say as I rub my arm, the chill of the night setting in as the fire goes out and the only light provided is by the lantern and the moon peeking through the tall trees. “Well, um, I guess I could take the pillow and you could?—”
“I’m going to stop you right there. That’s not happening.”
“We can take turns sleeping.”
“Scottie.” He levels with me. “We’re both adults. We’ve been sharing a bed ever since we got here. We can make this happen. I just need to know that you’re going to be okay with…snuggling.”
With you?
Absolutely.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what it might feel like to have him snuggle in close. His broad chest and welcoming arms are just asking to be snuggled into, but that’s also a line that we haven’t crossed yet. A line that I’m sure I probably shouldn’t cross given how fragile I am at the moment. One good night of snuggling might do me in.
Then again, do I really have any other option? If I offer to be the one who doesn’t take the sleeping bag, he’s not going to allow that to happen. He’d go without a sleeping bag and pillow, and I don’t want that to be the case. It’s already kind of chilly, and we’re both in shorts and T-shirts.
So I guess…we’re doing this.
“Snuggling is fine,” I say.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Positive,” I answer with a smile.
“Um, do you want to get in first or do you want me to?” I ask as I kneel in the tent, probably making this way more awkward than it has to be.
“You go first, get comfortable, and then I’ll slide in.”
“Sure.” I clear my throat and then slip into the plush sleeping bag that is definitely made for two but not a roomy two. Like there is no chance that we won’t be touching all night.
Once I’m comfortable, Wilder asks, “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Okay.” He reaches behind his head and pulls his shirt off, surprising me. He must see it in my face, because he says, “I’ll burn up if I go in there with you and my shirt on.”
“Yeah, it’s no problem,” I answer as I swallow another bout of nerves.
He slips his socks off as well and then slides into the sleeping bag, taking up every last inch of room we might have had.
“Shit, this is really tight.”
“Are you talking about the sleeping bag…or something else?” I say before I can stop myself.
He pauses and then sits up to look at me. “Did you just make a sexual joke?”
“I think…I think I’ve been hanging around the Brads and Chad too much.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, you have. But also, good one. I was talking about the sleeping bag.”
“Yeah, it is kind of tight.”
“You seriously okay with this?”
“Yes. I don’t want either of us to be cold.”
“Okay,” he says and then lies down and slides his hand over my stomach, causing me to jolt. “Shit, sorry, should have warned you. Uh, do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?”
“I think I would feel awkward as the big because you are much broader than me.”
“I don’t know. It could work. Want to try it?”
“Not so much.”
He chuckles and then slides his hand over my stomach again and pulls me into his chest. The heat of his skin sears through my shirt. My nipples go hard and press against the cups of my bra, reminding me that I still have it on.
“Crap,” I say.
“What? Am I doing something wrong?”
“No,” I answer. “I forgot to take my bra off, and I know it will be an issue if I keep it on all night. Do you mind if I take it off?”
“Have at it. I’ll cover my eyes.”
I scoot out of the sleeping bag. “I can take it off under my shirt.”
“Oh, you hold the power of the ‘bra under the shirt removal’ magic trick.”
“Is that the official title for it?” I tease.
“I think they’re still trademarking it. Other names could be in the works.”
I laugh and then remove my bra and shove it off to the side. Then I slide back down into the sleeping bag and up against his body. I wiggle in close to get comfortable and feel his hand on my hip, stopping me.
“Whoa, uh, easy there, Pips. Not too much wiggling, okay?”
“Am I too close?” I ask.
“No, but you keep moving that cute ass of yours up against my dick, and you’re going to realize just how close you are.”
My cheeks flame from the compliment. “Oh, sorry.”
“No problem. Just going to state for the record, if things in the morning are…happy to see you, I’m sorry in advance. I’m sharing a sleeping bag with a hot-as-hell girl who’s no longer wearing a bra. I did the best that I could.”
Oh, umm, was that just a compliment?
Hot as hell?
Does he really mean that?
Does it really matter?
Shouldn’t matter to me. I should just let it roll off my shoulders, but then again, I can’t remember the last time I was complimented in such a way.
“Um, don’t worry about it if it does happen. I’ll take it as a compliment.”
He chuckles, his chest rumbling behind me. “Please remember that in the morning.”
His hand shifts over my stomach as he finds his comfortable spot, and butterflies erupt in my chest from the caress. God, it’s really been that long for me. Hard to imagine that a small touch like that can erupt so many feelings inside me.
“Can’t remember the last time I was held like this,” I say, not wanting to hold that thought in.
“Really?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“Matt wasn’t much of a touchy-feely guy. And as distance started to crawl into our relationship, it drove him further and further away.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Wilder says, sounding truly sympathetic. “And one of your love languages is touch, right?”
“I mean…yeah, I like to be touched. I like to be complimented. I don’t need someone telling me how beautiful I am every second of every day, but if I dress up, it’s nice to know that someone notices me.”
“That’s just human decency,” he says softly. “For what it’s worth, when you wear shorts and a T-shirt, you’re beautiful. When you wear a pencil skirt and a tucked-in shirt…equally beautiful.”
“You don’t have to say that.” The minute the words leave my mouth, I know I shouldn’t have muttered them. It just feels reactionary, to not accept a compliment but rather put myself down.
And Wilder calls me out on it.
He lifts up and pushes me to my back. Even in the dark, I can see the crinkle in his brow. “We’ve talked about this. I don’t say shit just to say it. When I say you’re beautiful, I fucking mean it. Got it, Scottie?”
I nod my head, feeling ashamed that I allow myself to think such negative thoughts about myself. “I’m sorry. I know we talked about it. I’m just…I’m struggling to believe what’s true and what’s…what’s you just being nice to me.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Well, you’re my best friend’s brother, and I know you’re on a mission to help me. And when people are trying to help others, they sometimes…embellish to build confidence, you know? And I’m trying to figure out what is true and what is embellishing.”
He slowly nods but keeps his eyes on me. They feel like they’re boring a hole straight into my soul as he says, “I wouldn’t fucking embellish on that shit. Do you want me to give it to you straight? Because I will.”
“That’s not necess?—”
“You’re beautiful,” he says. “Stunning actually. I get lost in your eyes when I shouldn’t because they’re so unique and I want to know more about the brown ring around your pupil and why it fades into this ocean blue that I can’t quite figure out. I’ve caught myself catching glimpses of your lips, wondering why they look so soft when I never see you put lip balm on. When you speak, there is hurt in your voice, like someone took a piece of your soul and hasn’t returned it, yet it makes you who you are—makes you that much more interesting. There have been times when I’ve wanted to touch your hair, push it behind your ear, just feel it because it’s so silky. You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met before—complex yet simple. Insecure but also very confident. And I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t attracted to you. And I’m not saying this to hit on you. I’m not saying this to try to get you to tear your shirt off. I’m saying this because you deserve to hear it. You deserve the truth. You are beautiful, Scottie.”
My heart is hammering against my rib cage.
My mouth is dry, but my palms are sweaty.
And for a girl who has a hard time taking a compliment even though she wants them…I felt that one all the way to my soul.
I wet my lips. “Th-thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
And then we stare at each other for a few seconds, his hand still on my stomach, his frame nearly hovering over mine, the proximity of our bodies so close. I have this overwhelming sensation to trail my hand down his chest. To ask him to lift my shirt and caress his warm palm over my skin. To wrap my hand around the back of his neck and bring him in even closer.
“You know,” he says, breaking the tension building between us, “it wouldn’t hurt you to compliment me.”
A sense of ease works its way through me as I chuckle. “Fishing?”
“Maybe a little. Go ahead.” He nods. “Say something nice. Boost my ego for me.”
I sigh but continue to look him in the eyes. Honestly? There are many things I could compliment Wilder with. He’s a faithful, kindhearted brother, someone who defends people he feels are being wronged. No matter the consequences. He’s funny. He’s super sexy with those nearly colorless eyes and ripped muscles. But the need to tease him is overwhelming . “You’re not normally my type.”
“Wow.” He laughs. It’s hearty and from the gut. “Jesus, please, stop. Don’t say more. I don’t think my ego will be able to fit in this tent if you keep up with the compliments.”
“You didn’t let me finish.” I laugh.
“Oh, by all means, please continue to regale me with your compliments. I think you were saying how I’m normally not your type. Continue.”
I roll my eyes. “What I was trying to say is that I wouldn’t normally go for a guy like you?—”
“Uh-huh, you said it differently, but it still feels the same.”
“Stop.” I laugh as I gently pat at his chest. “What I’m trying to say is that I would normally go for someone different, but the moment I saw you in front of Anthropologie, I thought to myself, how on earth did Mika not tell me about you?”
“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. “Interested, were you?”
“And this is why I do not compliment you.”
He laughs and lies back down, wrapping his arm around me and holding me close to his chest. “It’s okay. You can say it. You have a crush on me.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Annoyingly attractive.”
Yup, exactly why I didn’t want to say anything.
“It’s the lip ring, isn’t it?”
Yes.
“Or my eyes—I’ve heard they’re mesmerizing.”
Also those.
“Or my strapping body that I spend countless hours training in the gym?”
That doesn’t hurt.
“Or is it the fact that you’re questioning whether I’m pierced anywhere else?”
Also, dying to know such things.
“Nope,” I say. “It’s your chin. It’s well structured.”
“My chin?” he asks in such a comical way that it almost makes me laugh.
“Yes, your chin. So…great job growing it. Okay, going to bed now.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s your choice,” I say and snuggle against the pillow. “Night, Wilder.”
He’s silent for a second, and then his hand moves slightly under the hem of my shirt, inching over my heated skin. Immediately, a dull throb erupts between my legs as his palm connects with my stomach. And then he leans in, and, in a sultry, deep voice, he asks, “Are you sure it’s just my chin?”
Dear God.
No, it’s not.
It’s the whole package.
It’s how kind you are to me.
How you make me feel special.
The way you look at me with those eyes, like I matter. Like I’m of importance.
It’s the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you have no problem sticking up for me.
It’s everything. At first glance, I wouldn’t have thought he was my type. And even now, given how good he is, I still wouldn’t have thought he was my type. But I’m starting to learn what I deserve in a man, and Wilder somehow ticks all those boxes.
Wetting my lips, I nod as his thumb strokes my skin. God, I might burn up right here on the spot. “Yeah, your chin,” I say, barely getting the words out.
“Hmm, shame, I thought it was so much more.” And then he lies back down but keeps his hand under my shirt. I swear it’s a test. Like he’s waiting for me to tell him to remove himself. Like he’s seeing where my head is at.
And the thing is, I don’t want him to move. I want him to hold me like this. I want to feel his skin against mine, because it’s been so long. Because it’s comforting. Because deep down inside, I’m starting to figure out that I wouldn’t mind just a little more from him.
“Well, we all learn something new every day.”
“I guess we do,” he says softly, his thumb still stroking my stomach. “Just like I’m learning that you don’t mind having my hand under your shirt.”
I would actually prefer it a little higher, thanks.
“Um, well, I wouldn’t, uh, I wouldn’t want your hand to get cold.”
He chuckles, the sound so addicting. “You’re so considerate,” he says as his hand moves farther north. “I wouldn’t want my hand to get cold either.”
I bite my bottom lip. “Cold hands are no fun.”
“Not even a little,” he says, his thumb stroking the spot just below my breast.
Mother of God.
Within minutes, this man has not only reinvigorated my confidence, but he has turned me on faster than my ex ever had with just the lightest stroke of his thumb.
“G-glad we can establish that,” I say, really unsure what I’m saying at all.
“You know, you sound nervous, Scottie. Is there a reason why you’re nervous?”
Yeah, because all I can think about is how I want you to touch me more than you are. And I shouldn’t be thinking that. I shouldn’t be thinking about him in any sort of sexual way. But my God, I’m panting. Begging. Needing.
“Not nervous,” I say.
“You sure?” he asks in a teasing tone.
“Positive,” I say.
“Because if you want, we can change positions. You can lie on my chest if you want, and you can place your hand on my stomach.”
That would be a very bad idea.
Incredibly bad.
Because whereas he has some semblance of self-control, I know I’d have none. Nope, the minute I had a chance, I’d be running my finger over every ab, circling his nipples, slipping my hand under the waistband of his shorts…
It would not be good.
“Um, that’s okay. This works. Unless you’re uncomfortable.”
“Nah, I’m quite comfortable,” he says, splaying his hand across my stomach, one of his fingers just grazing the underside of my breast.
“Yup.” I gulp. “Me too.”
“Good.” He sighs and then says, “Well, good night, Pips.”
I wet my lips and try to even out my breathing. “Night, Wilder.”