Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
WILDER
I should not like this as much as I do.
Holding a woman…waking up next to her in the morning…her hair brushing against my face as she quietly sleeps.
Yeah, I should not be so caught up by this feeling, but I am.
I like it.
I like that she let me sleep with my hand under her shirt.
I like that she didn’t move an inch last night.
And I like that she smells like fucking flowers and pine.
Last night, when we solved our differences, all I could think about was how easy that was. How simply honest conversation resolved animosity. There was no holding grudges. We just…continued on. It was so healthy that I almost didn’t know what to do with it. I appreciated it.
And I know she did too. Because the rest of the night was spent enjoying each other, which definitely decided how we slept last night.
When I saw that there was one sleeping bag, I chuckled, because typical Sanders, right? Pushing two people together, moving past comfort levels and forcing them to make that connection. I appreciated it. I looked forward to it.
Because even though I know I shouldn’t be touching Scottie like I did last night, I fucking loved every second of it. Craved it, actually.
And when I accidentally grazed her breast, fuck, it took everything in me to not move my hand up farther and play with her.
Because I wanted to. I really wanted to.
She shifts next to me, stirring awake, her ass rubbing up against my cock for what feels like the hundredth time. I try to back away, but she presses closer, causing me to smirk.
“Mmmm,” she moans softly, circling her ass against me again.
Jesus.
One more of those and she’s going to feel something unexpected.
“Touch me,” she mumbles.
Yeah, I know a sleeping voice compared to an awake one, and there is no way she’s awake at the moment. Meaning I need to not listen to her.
Her hand falls to mine, and she grips it. Then to my surprise, she drags it up her body, right to her breast.
Her soft, full breast.
Fuck…me.
“Yes,” she mumbles again and then swirls her ass against me, making me go hard.
Yup, told you. Just one more, and I was a goner.
“More, Wilder,” she mumbles. “More.”
She’s having a sex dream about me. Consider me flattered, but I’d hate for her to wake up and find me groping her with a boner, because telling her she did it to me in her sleep isn’t really the kind of excuse people accept.
I need to find an exit before things escalate, so I remove my hand, her hard nipple scraping against my palm—my mind whirling with what could have been—and then I move to my back so I can climb out of the sleeping bag, but to my dismay, she rolls with me and presses her face to my chest, her hand falling to my stomach.
I still and look down, unable to see anything but the sleeping bag, but I’m sure as hell feeling a bunch of things.
“Mmm, yes,” she says, her hand sliding down my stomach and right to the waistband of my shorts.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Sweat breaks out on my skin as her fingers play with my lower abs, circling, scraping, teasing my waist to the point that I’m now hard as stone, my cock aching.
I need to shimmy out of here.
I reach to the side of the sleeping bag, looking for the zipper, but I’m having a hard time locating it while her hand inches closer and closer until…
“Fuck,” I hiss as her hand slides over my erection.
I turn away, find the zipper, and then roll right out of the sleeping bag, startling her awake from the jostling.
“Everything…everything okay?” she asks.
“Bathroom!” I shout as I crawl toward the exit of the tent. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
I make quick work of the door, take off out of the tent, and run behind one of the large trees, where I lean against it and breathe heavily, glancing down at my fucking dick poking against my shorts.
I drag my hand over my face and blow out a heavy breath.
Okay, that was…that was not supposed to happen.
And yet it did.
And for the brief moment that it did happen, I fucking liked it.
Yup, I liked it. And I wouldn’t mind if it happened again.
But that’s not what I’m here for. I’m not here to hook up with my brother’s best friend. I’m here to…to…to what?
Make her feel better?
Help her through a difficult time?
Work on my own bullshit that I carry around in my head?
Let’s not go there.
I take a few deep breaths, and after what feels like an eternity, everything returns to normal. I pee quickly, and then I head back to the tent, where I find Scottie outside brushing her teeth. When her eyes meet mine, they softly smile.
Fuck, she’s pretty. I told her only the facts last night. She’s absolutely gorgeous. But I didn’t tell her that it’s made me wonder if she thinks the same about me. That I’ve wondered if she likes me despite my lack of future ambition. That I’ve wondered if she’d ever consider dating me for real, even though I’m confused as all hell if I really want that. She’s slowly turning me inside out and upside down, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way. If ever.
“I’ve never seen someone exit a tent so fast before.”
Because you were about to find my dick thrusting in your palm, and I wasn’t about to have that.
“Yeah, guess the open air makes me really need to pee,” I say as I pull on the back of my neck.
She chuckles, rinses her mouth, and then says, “Do you think they’re going to come get us this morning?”
“Unsure,” I answer as I pick up my toothbrush as well as a bottle of water and start brushing too.
“Was there breakfast food in the bin?”
I shake my head and then spit my toothpaste out. “Not that I saw.”
“Which means they’re probably going to get us this morning.” She glances at the tent. “Do you think we should take that thing down?”
I finish up with my teeth and then rinse my mouth before answering. “It would be my pleasure to take it down. I’d enjoy nothing more.”
Then together, we start pulling it out of the ground and unsnapping the poles.
“How did you sleep?” I ask her after a few seconds of us silently working together.
She looks over at me, the sun hitting her in this way that makes her look almost…angelic. For a moment, I get lost in the way she can be so effortlessly beautiful in the morning. Her hair rumpled, her cheeks pink, her eyes sleepy but also alert. Christ. Imagine if she woke up like that, but I was looking down at her still wrapped up in my arms?
I can tell you one thing for sure—we would not be taking the tent down.
“I slept pretty good, actually,” she says as she breaks down the poles and gathers them together. “You’re good at snuggling.”
“Now there’s a compliment. Besides my strong chin, I’m a good snuggler—something to keep in mind.”
“Maybe something to put on the dating profile.”
“If I ever joined one of those apps, I would.”
“You haven’t been on them?” she asks, sounding surprised as the tent falls all the way to the ground.
“No,” I answer. “Just…I don’t know, haven’t really thought about being with anyone, and I feel like people who go to those apps, at least the right people, are looking for a relationship, you know? And I don’t want to do them a disservice by not wanting to be in a relationship.”
“Ever?” she asks.
“No, not ever. Just, I guess, when I’m ready.”
“Not to pry, but you know, we’ve talked a lot about me. So it’s your turn. When do you think you’ll be ready?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly as I start rolling up the sleeping bag that was pulled from the tent before we started taking it down. “I think when everything just seems…right. If that makes sense.”
“Can I ask what that means?”
I can see her tiptoeing, clearly after an answer that I’m uncomfortable talking about. Then again, she’s talked about a lot of uncomfortable things, so maybe it’s time for me to share.
“Uh, well, with Mika. I want him to be comfortable, mentally healthy. I feel like I have some baggage where my mom is concerned and with my dad’s death and his accident. There are some things to unpack there.”
“I thought you said baggage wasn’t a bad thing.”
“It’s not,” I say, looking her in the eyes. “It’s really not. But I haven’t really dealt with my own baggage, so how can I inflict that on someone who wants to be in a relationship with me, you know?”
“I understand that,” she says. She sticks the poles in the tent bag. “Mika said that your mom cheated on your dad.” When she looks up at me, she winces. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. It was a dark moment for him when he told me.”
I pause, my limbs going still as the words float around us, just out there in the world. Words I try to ignore, to suppress, because it’s such a fucked-up situation.
My dad was in a horrible car accident that left him quadriplegic. It was tough on everyone, especially my mom, who had to work extra hours to pay for his home care and then come home and take care of us. She…she was stressed, she didn’t have my father the way she used to, and one night, after hearing Mom on the phone with someone clearly making a time to meet, Mika followed her to our dad’s best friend’s place. He saw them kiss in the front doorway, and from what looked like clothes coming off quickly, he surmised the rest. She owned up to it when she got home.
It was devastating to say the least. From there, it felt like everything fell apart.
And shortly after, my dad ended up passing. I went to college, Mika dropped out of college and became a full-time bartender, and we haven’t really healed from the situation. Well, I’ve had conversations with my mom, come to peace with it, but Mika, not so much.
“I’m, uh, I’m surprised Mika told you that,” I say as I stick the sleeping bag in the bin.
“He doesn’t tell me much about your family, honestly, but it was during his rough time, and mine at that. It was a drunk night. He was raging about Matt and then mentioned that at least Matt didn’t cheat on me like his mom cheated on your dad. He said it in passing, and I wasn’t really sure if it was true or not, but I guess seeing the way you treat this marriage counseling thing and the way you look after Mika, I just put two and two together. I’m sorry if I’m overstepping.”
I shake my head. “You’re not. You’re Mika’s friend first, so I guess there are some things you know about my family that I might not have thought that you knew.”
“That’s about it.”
I nod and then start rolling up the tent. “Yeah, well, I’ve come to peace with my mom and what she did. I don’t agree with it, but I also understand it. My dad didn’t even talk. He was…he was not the man that he was before the accident. It was hard on her, and I sound like I’m making excuses.”
“You’re not,” Scottie says. “That’s…that’s a tough situation. I honestly can’t imagine. I know what it’s like to feel loneliness. I’ve been there. Sure, Matt was able to walk and talk, but I also lived in a house with a man who didn’t care to acknowledge or appreciate me. I know what that could do to a person.”
I look up at her, the understanding in her eyes breaking down a wall inside me that I didn’t even know existed. Because…she gets it. It’s so hard talking to people about my mom, especially Mika. I don’t agree with or condone what my mom did. It’s terrible actually, but then again, if I step back and I put myself in her shoes, how could I possibly observe as a bystander and judge her? She lost her husband in that car accident. She was taking care of two kids. Being a caretaker for her husband who couldn’t even acknowledge her. Working overtime. She was stressed and…and needed that comfort. Was it wrong? Yes. Do I understand it? I sort of do.
And anyone I’ve mentioned it to has judged my mom, chastised her, said what a horrible person she is, but I know she’s not. I know she’s not that woman.
But Scottie…she gets it. She fucking gets it.
“Thank you,” I say to her.
She shrugs shyly. “You’re welcome.”
I move toward her and pull her into a hug. Her arms wrap around me instinctively, and she holds on to me tightly as I place my chin against the top of her head.
We stand like that for a few minutes, just holding each other, allowing understanding to wash over the both of us. And when we finally pull away, it’s only a few inches. Our eyes meet, a palpable connection beating between us. It’s more than just a friendship that we’ve formed. There’s genuine honesty. There’s an appreciation.
Her eyes fall to my mouth for a brief second and then travel back up to my eyes. Our arms are still wrapped around each other. It would be so easy to bend down right now and kiss her. To cup the back of her head and show her just how much I appreciate her. How much I’ve enjoyed these last few days with her, even when we were fighting.
And as I bite down on the inside of my cheek, I tell myself don’t .
Don’t cross that line.
Don’t push any further than I already have, because I wasn’t lying when I said that I wasn’t sure about what I want. If I can handle a relationship.
But hell, she’s making it fucking hard to keep myself away, especially when she looks at me with those expressive, nearly pleading eyes of hers.
“Thank you for last night,” she says quietly.
“For what?” I ask.
“For reminding me about what it is that I want in life. I forgot how nice it is to have human touch, and you…you reminded me of that.” She smiles. “I was kind of happy there was only one sleeping bag.”
That makes me chuckle. “Jesus, is it bad that I was thinking the same thing this morning?”
“Really?” she asks.
“I mean…yeah. I forgot what it was like to snuggle with someone. It was nice. I enjoyed it. Not to mention I didn’t mind the whole hand up the shirt thing. It was a nice touch.”
“Of course you’d say that.”
I wet my lips. “Can’t blame a guy. But it should probably be just a one-time thing though, right? I mean, imagine if we snuggled in the sex cabin. Think about how the cabin would take it wrong.”
“The walls would whisper,” she cutely says.
I chuckle. “They’d torment us. Tell us to go further. Tease us relentlessly. The vibrators would vibrate. The cock rings would jingle.”
“The lube would bubble. The condoms would crinkle.”
I lift a brow. “Did you just rhyme?”
“I did.” She winces. “And I said lube would bubble. I don’t think it does that. Honestly, I wouldn’t even know. I’ve never used it.”
“Never used it?” I ask with a shake of my head. “Pips, we need to get you out of this hole you’ve been living in.”
She’s about to respond when we hear a motor approaching in the distance. We both look to the side just in time to see Sanders drive up toward us in his four-wheeler. Wearing a turkey-shaped hat on his head, he parks the four-wheeler and then sticks his head out the side, taking in our position.
“Well…that’s more like it,” he says as he hops out, revealing his Thanksgiving dinner shirt and matching pants. It’s summer, and he’s wearing mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie on his body, but at least he matches. He’s got that going for him. “How was your night?”
I slip out of Scottie’s embrace but keep my arm wrapped around her shoulders as I face Sanders. “It was good. Right, Pips?”
She looks up at me and then at Sanders. “Yes, it was good.”
“Did we work out our issues like adults?”
I nod. “We communicated, aired out the issues, and both apologized with sincerity.”
“Good.” He folds his arms. “Because I have food in the back of the four-wheeler if I need to keep you out here another night.”
“I think we’re good.” I grip my back and stretch. “Could use an actual mattress tonight.”
“Then let’s finish cleaning up, and then we can head back to camp. I have quite the activity planned for today.”
I can only imagine what that is going to be.
Together, we gather up the rest of the tent items, stuff them all away, and then pile the bin on the back of the four-wheeler. I slide in next to Scottie in the second row and drape my arm behind her.
“So,” I say. “Uh, the other couples mentioned the other night that there’s some tent experience that they hoped they’d take part in. Was this that?”
“They said that?” Sanders asks on a laugh. “Yes, this would be it, but I’m not sure why they’d want to take part in it. To me, sleeping on the rock-hard ground over a fluffy mattress is way more of a punishment than anything. Then again, they’re a different bunch.”
You can say that again.
What is it with them? They were jealous about this outing in the woods with a tent? Christ, I wouldn’t be frothing at the mouth to make that happen. Unless one of them heard about a different experience and then told the others.
“Tell me something you learned about each other while out here,” Sanders says, continuing his therapy sessions whenever he gets a chance.
“I learned that Scottie likes it when my hand is up her shirt.”
“Wilder,” she scoffs while both Sanders and I laugh.
“You know, Ellison likes the same thing,” Sanders says. “She also doesn’t mind sharing a sleeping bag.”
“Scottie didn’t mind that either. She actually enjoyed it quite a bit. She got real handsy.”
“Me, handsy?” she says, looking over at me. “You were the one who grazed my boob.”
“If only it was the nipple.”
Her mouth falls open while Sanders continues to chuckle.
“Yeah…well…Wilder had a boner this morning and pretended he had to pee when in reality, he was trying to hide it from me.”
I gasp. “You saw that?”
“The woodland creatures from a mile away saw it,” she deadpans.
I press my hand to my chest. “Babe, are you saying I have a prominent penis? Thank you.”
“Jesus,” she mutters under her breath.
“Okay,” Sanders says. “So if you were aroused this morning, why didn’t you want your wife to see it?”
Oh shit, that’s right, we’re married. Kind of forgot that detail for a second.
I clear my throat and say, “We took a vow of celibacy while we’re trying to work out these issues. Didn’t want to make sex a thing, since we’re both so good. You know, as Sabrina Carpenter would say, we have really good bed chem.”
“Ahh, I see. And if she saw your arousal, that would be…”
“Pressuring,” I answer. “I never want her to feel pressured about taking care of me like that.”
“So you took care of yourself?”
“Not so much,” I say, not caring that I’m talking about this in the slightest. “I stood behind a tree, taking deep breaths as I tried not to think about Scottie’s slumbering yet wandering hand that caressed my dick.”
“What?” she asks, pulling back. “I didn’t caress you.”
“Oh babe, you most certainly did,” I say with a smirk.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Uh, yeah, you did. You flipped over while I was on my back, moved your hand around my chest and stomach—she’s always loved my abs, man?—”
“You are a very fit man,” Sanders says.
“Thank you. And then from there, her hand went right over the old dong. Made me nearly jump out of my shorts. That’s when I scrambled out of the sleeping bag and the tent, claiming I had to go to the bathroom.”
“And what would have happened if you didn’t flee? What if you just let her touch you while she was sleeping?” Sanders asks as he avoids a rock in the path.
“Uh, well…I would have been panting and begging for more as she wandered her hand around. I probably would have slipped up on our pact, pushed her shirt up, and while she had her way with me, I’d have had my way with her.”
I catch her gulp out of the corner of my eye as she looks straight ahead, avoiding me at all costs.
“Well then, maybe tonight will call for a redo. If you’re in a comfortable place with your communication, then maybe it’s time to reestablish that intimate relationship as well.”
“You know,” I say, gripping Scottie’s shoulder. “I truly think we might be ready.”
“I feel so much better,” Scottie says as she comes out of the bathroom, fully dressed and her hair wet from the shower. “There’s something about sleeping outside that just makes you feel gross.”
“Well, you didn’t look gross to me,” I say as I lean back on the bed.
“Thank you.” She scrunches her hair with her towel and says, “Can I ask you something?”
“Always,” I answer.
“Were you telling the truth in the four-wheeler? Did I really touch you?”
My eyes meet hers. “Yeah, Pips, you did. That’s why it seemed like I had fire in my goddamn pants, because if I didn’t get out of there quick enough, you would have been touching a lot more if I had my way.”
“Oh.” Her teeth drag over her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Hey, it’s fine. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it, because I did. Sure, it was surprising, but also, can’t deny a beautiful woman caressing me the way you did.”
“Well, I had no idea. I wouldn’t intentionally do that.”
“Seriously, Scottie, it’s fine. Nothing you need to worry about. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says and then hangs up her towel. She takes a seat on the bed next to me and asks, “What do you think he’s going to have us do today?”
“No idea,” I answer. “But are we on the path to good now? Like, no more fighting? We’re supposed to be showing that our marriage has a shot now, right?”
“Right,” she says. “I think the tent was the perfect turning point for us. Now that we’ve had that moment and we’ve aired out our differences, we can move on with the rest of camp and show Sanders that he really is a magician when it comes to saving marriages. He can feel great about himself, he can tell Ellison that we’re the miracle couple, Ellison will like me more, which in return will be great for when I want to move on to another job, and then all will be right in the world.”
“Exactly, and I can always look back at the time that I went to a marriage summer camp with a woman I didn’t know.”
“Put it in your experience journal.”
“Don’t have one, but I might make one now.”
“Good.” She smiles at me. “Okay, shall we head on over to the main building?”
“I think we shall.” I stand and then hold out my hand to her. “Happy couples hold hands.”
“You’re right. They do.” She takes my hand, and together, we head out of the cabin and down the path toward the main building.
It’s a beautiful summer day with a light breeze, making the humidity not that horrible. And the wind kicking off the lake is always an added bonus; it’s like nature’s air-conditioning.
We head into the covered area where all the furniture has been moved, and there are single chairs in various parts of the space.
“What is this?” Scottie asks. “Musical chairs?”
“Imagine that,” I say just as Chad and his wife walk up.
“Heard you got the tent,” he says through clenched teeth.
This guy. Jesus.
“Yeah, we did,” I say with a smile. “And fuck, was it amazing. Shame you didn’t get to experience it.”
He rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m not here putting on a show like you.” Then he directs his wife to the other side of the building, far away from us.
When I feel Scottie grow tense next to me, I say, “Don’t worry about him.”
“He knows,” she whispers. “He has to.”
“He doesn’t. He probably has erectile dysfunction and is taking it out on us.”
But she doesn’t laugh, instead she worries her lip.
“I don’t know,” Scottie says. “He’s the one who initially tried to catch me in a lie, and I think he might have gotten in trouble with HR from it. I feel like he’s trying to sniff something out because I know he’s not a fan of mine, and I’m not a fan of his.”
“I can see why.” And then I whisper, “Seriously, just keep cool, we have nothing to worry about.”
Now Brad walks by us, looking semi-guilty. “Umm, thanks for the handcuffs,” he mutters. “I, uh, I was the one who got tied up.”
“And…?” I ask.
He just nods, a light smirk playing on his lips as he heads toward Chad.
Ah, I see that he’s pledging his allegiance, but there was a slight desperation behind his eyes that made me think he wants to switch teams. I’ll just have to let him know that we’ll welcome him and his wife with open arms.
Next, Duncan and his husband walk by. Duncan stops in front of us and places his hand on my shoulder. He gives it a few pats but then keeps walking. He doesn’t need to say much more than that. I get it.
Everyone besides Chad seems well rested, happy…like they’re ready to move on to the newest task and forget about the night around the fire.
The newest task seems like it’s about to start as Sanders shows up still wearing that godforsaken turkey hat; how the man is not roasting under it, I will never understand.
“Welcome, everyone. We’re starting a new practice that we haven’t done here yet at Camp Haven. This is a play on musical chairs.”
“Ha, you called it,” I whisper to Scottie.
“But instead of musical chairs, this is called sensual chairs.”
Uh-oh.
That doesn’t sound like a game for two people pretending to be married.
“I’m going to start you off by having everyone pick a chair. Any open chair.” When no one moves, he says, “Go ahead. Pick one.”
I lead Scottie to a chair far off in the corner where no one else is so we can discuss whatever this activity is going to be.
“I’ll be playing music in one-minute increments. There will be a card on the bottom of your chair. You are to read the card and complete the task on the card. I’ll have staff roaming around, making sure everyone is participating and participating correctly. When the music stops, you move to a different chair to take care of another task. The game will be over once every couple checks off every chair and task. Understood?”
Everyone seems to nod their head, and then Brad raises his hand. “Question about the chair. Is this something we’re both supposed to sit on?”
“Yes,” Sanders answers. “Both of you, at the same time. You position how you feel necessary, but you need to be facing each other.”
Which means Scottie is straddling my lap again. Just what I fucking need after the groping from this morning.
I turn to her and say, “Want me to sit on you?”
She cutely raises her brow, making me laugh.
“Yeah, didn’t think so.” It was worth a try.
So I take a seat on the chair, and Scottie slowly straddles my lap, facing me.
Fuck, she smells amazing. I think it’s the shampoo she uses that she brought with her. It has this flowery scent that kicks me in the damn crotch every time I get a whiff of it.
And she fits so perfectly on my lap, like I’m her own personal seat.
I place my hands on her hips and ask, “Are you comfortable?”
She rests her hands on my chest, her fingers splaying across my pecs. “Yeah. Are you? I’m not hurting you, am I?”
Mentally, this is straining; physically, it’s so fucking comfortable.
“Is that really a question you’re asking me?”
“I guess not,” she says as I playfully squeeze her hips.
“Now that everyone is in position, we’re going to start the music, and that’s when you need to read the card that’s under your chair and follow the instructions,” Sanders says.
“I hope they don’t do this at regular summer camps,” I say.
“Talk about a lawsuit,” she mutters just as the music starts, and it’s shockingly loud.
“Is that…‘Wicked Game’ by Chris Isaak?” I ask.
“I think it is,” she answers as I reach to the side for the card that’s Velcroed to the chair. “What does it say?”
I flip it open and read out loud. “Look your partner in the eyes, and tell them one quality that you admire about them.” I look up at her. “Oh shit, I thought this was going to be harder.”
She lets out a sigh of relief. “Me too. When he said sensual chairs, I was expecting…I don’t know…dry humping or something.”
I let out a laugh while she chuckles.
“Well, thank God we don’t have to dry hump in public.”
“Really saving some dignity this morning.”
“We are,” I say, unable to hide my smile, because she’s just so damn adorable.
“Okay, we can do this,” she says on a sigh.
“Want me to go first?” I ask.
“Sure,” she answers.
I look her in the eyes, and I say, “Scottie, I admire your vulnerability. I know you put yourself in a weird and awkward situation, and you had the chance to just give up and move on, but instead, you decided to see this thing through. You decided to open yourself up to these conversations and to sift through the weight of your divorce with courage. And I don’t think you see that sort of tenacity enough. I don’t think you see people open up their hearts and expose themselves the way you have. So I’m truly impressed by you, and you continue to impress me each and every day.”
Her eyes grow watery, and her hand gradually moves to my neck. “Thank you,” she says softly. “That was…that was really nice of you.”
“I mean it.”
She nods. “I know you do, Wilder. I know you do.”
And that right there, that makes me smile, because that’s change. That’s her coming out of this repressed shell that she’s been living in and recognizing the fact that she’s so much more than how her ex treated her. Sure, he might not have done anything physically bad to her, but ignoring someone, not showing their importance in your life, that is just as bad. Because that wears on you. It’s manipulative and mental abuse. And she deserves so much more than that.
“Okay, my turn,” she says on a deep breath. Her beautiful eyes match up with mine. “I admire your positivity, and I know you were probably hoping for something else?—”
“Do not second-guess your answer,” I tell her. “Be brave and tell me why you like my positivity.”
“You’re right. Okay.” She clears her throat and continues, “I admire your positivity because as someone who spent the last few years living in a household where everything was negative, where nothing was done right, where complaining was the number one role of communication, you bring such a light to a dark, dim world. You’re able to see things for their beauty rather than their flaws. You’re able to find growth rather than encourage the regression. You’re able to take an uncomfortable situation and put a fun twist on it. You don’t let people hold you down, nor do you hold them down yourself. You lift them up. And you stand up for those who need it. I’ve never met anyone like you before.” Her thumb strokes against my neck. “And I’m really happy that I did.”
I rub my hands up her sides. “Thank you, Scottie. That was incredibly nice of you.”
“I mean it,” she says with a smirk.
“I know you do.”
Then the music ends, and Sanders calls out. “Okay, rotate seats.”
Scottie gets off my lap and takes my hand in hers as we move over to the next chair. I take a seat first, and once again, she climbs onto my lap, but this time, there’s no hesitation; she almost seems at home as she sits on top of me. And I like that.
I like that a lot.
The music starts, and I pull the card from the side of the chair and, once again, read it out loud.
“Cup your partner’s cheek, bring your foreheads together, and whisper what you like most about their body.” I look up at Scottie. “Huh, this is a bit more intense.”
“It’ll be fine,” she says with a wave of her hand.
So we both grip each other’s cheeks, my palm to her soft skin. Then together, we touch our foreheads, the position oddly comforting given how close we are. I stare into her eyes, our noses nearly connecting.
She wets her lips, and then I do the same as a spark of electricity seems to bounce between us.
Yeah…way more intense.
She goes first and surprises me as she says, “You have the nicest stack of abs I think I’ve ever seen on a man. Like, incredible. Defined. Sexy. Just hard not to stare at.”
I can’t hold back my smile. I know this is hard for her, offering compliments. A part of me thinks it comes from years of little communication with her ex, but I love that she was able to jump right in and offer me a compliment. And a fucking good one at that.
“Thanks, Pips.” I wet my lips again, wanting to pull her in just a little bit closer. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—I fucking love your legs. They’re so sexy, and I bet…” I pause. Do I say the rest? Do I tell her what I’m really thinking? Why the fuck not? “I bet they’d look good wrapped around me.”
Her mouth slightly parts as her grip on my cheek shifts. I wait for her to pull away, to almost be surprised by my answer, but instead, she replies, “I love your arms. It’s obvious that you spend time in the gym, and I love that they’re not super bulky but rather thick and carved, and they wrap around me perfectly.”
I tug on my lip ring and say, “Pips, that ass of yours in those pajama shorts that you wear? Deathly. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve snuck glances at you while you wear those.”
I can feel her cheek heat from the compliment.
“You have a nice…um…bulge.”
That makes me chuckle.
“Just…thick-looking.”
“Checked it out?”
“Hard not to in the shorts you wear.”
Satisfaction rushes through me. “You have great tits. I stared at them a few times while you were in your bathing suit. Also, amazing nipples, and you have no problem with them being hard, which I love. I hate when women hide their hard nipples. You don’t. You just let them be hard, and it’s sexy as fuck.”
She wets her lips again, and I catch her chest rising and falling just a little bit harder. “I really like how big?—”
“Time’s up,” Sanders says as the music stops, and we’re forced to get out of our chair.
She takes my hand, and I lean down and whisper, “You really like how big what?”
She shakes her head. “That activity is over. On to the next.”
“Tease,” I say, tugging on her hand as we find the next seat.
Once we are situated, the music starts, and I pull the card.
“Take this time to freely touch your partner in any way you want.” I lift a brow and smirk at her. “Any way I want, huh? Where should I start?”
“You seem far too excited about this.”
“Damn right I am. After you fondled me this morning, it’s my turn to have some fun.” I wiggle my eyebrows, and she rolls her eyes dramatically.
Fuck, I’m loving this playful, lighter side of her.
“Well, I know where I want to start,” she says.
“Yeah? Where’s that? Where you left off this morning?”
“No,” she answers and then lifts her thumb to my lip ring. “This fascinates me. I feel feral when you tug on it with your teeth.”
“Feral, huh?”
“It’s just one of those things that you don’t expect to be sexy, but then it is. Just like your tattoo.” Her finger drags over the ink. “It’s really simple, understated, yet it looks incredibly hot on you.”
“Is that all you want to touch?” I ask her, loving that she’s taking free rein.
“No.” Her eyes meet mine.
“What else do you want to touch?” I nearly whisper.
“Your stomach,” she says.
“Have at it, babe.” I scoot down a little on the chair and lift up my shirt between us, showing off my abs.
She immediately sighs and then moves her fingers over my stomach with zero hesitation but instead ready to own me with her touch. “This can’t be real.” Divot by divot, she lets her fingers explore, and I watch her eyes intently as they grow with hunger.
“It’s real,” I say.
And then to my surprise, she moves her hand up my stomach to my chest and over my left pec. Her palm connects with my nipple as she coyly smirks.
“You’re feeling me up, Pips. Nipple and all.”
Her cheeks blush. “Matt was never fit, and that’s fine, but being near you, getting a chance to feel muscles like this, I don’t know, it’s kind of addicting. I like all your contours and sinew. Is that weird of me to say?”
“No,” I say as I allow my shirt to fall down, but she keeps her hand in place, letting her fingers run over my stomach until they reach the waistband of my shorts. “Watch it there, Pips. You don’t want to get too close.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t want that,” she says and then pulls away, leaving my skin on fire. “Okay, your turn.”
“To touch you?” I shake my head. “Anything I want to touch would be incredibly inappropriate in public.”
“And what would that be?”
I give her a “get real” look. “Scottie. Minutes ago, I went off about how hot your tits and ass are. You really think I’m about to feel you up?”
“I just felt you up.”
“That’s different.”
“How so?” she asks.
“I don’t know, but it feels different.”
She rolls her eyes, picks up my hand, and places it on her breast.
Our eyes meet, and I say, “Wow, this is really sexy.”
She chuckles and says, “Give me a squeeze.”
“Scottie.”
“I’m serious, Wilder. Feel me.”
I’m tempted. I’m so fucking tempted, but also, I know one squeeze won’t be enough. “Scottie.” I swallow. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m making you touch my breast. Do you think I’m uncomfortable?” she shifts on my lap. “Just feel me, Wilder.”
The way she says it, with a pleading tone, it almost breaks me.
Almost…
“Babe, I’m not going to?—”
“Time’s up,” Sanders says. “Move on to the next chair.”
I drop my hand from her breast, and we stare at each other for a few seconds, disappointment washing through her eyes right before she stands. This time, she straightens out her clothes and then turns away from me, not taking my hand in hers as we move to the next chair.
Fuck.
It’s immediate.
I can feel the cold coming from her. The distance she’s putting between us.
Her body language changed.
Her demeanor is no longer easygoing.
And I wonder if denying her what she wanted was something her ex used to do?
But did she seriously want me to feel her up right here?
I was trying to be respectful.
Waging a war of uncertainty in my head, I take a seat on the chair, and she drops down on my lap as Sanders calls out, “Now remember, we need to be doing this correctly. Read the cards, and perform the tasks to the best of your ability. This is a learning exercise. If we don’t follow through, we will do it again.”
“Did you hear that, Wilder?” she whispers. “Perform your task to the best of your ability.”
“I heard him,” I say as I take the card off the side of the chair and read it out loud. “Kiss your partner, no tongue allowed.” My eyes immediately shoot up to Scottie.
Kiss?
We have to kiss each other?
Well…fuck.
And here I thought this was going to be an easy activity with just questions. It started off so innocent but turned to fondling and now this?
“Um, are you okay with me kissing you?” I ask her.
“Doesn’t look like we have a choice. Question is are you okay with it? You couldn’t even touch me at the last chair.”
“Don’t,” I say as I put the card back. “Don’t start a fight. And don’t start thinking things in that head of yours. I was being respectful.”
“We’re not supposed to be respectful right now, Wilder. We’re supposed to be following directions.”
“You want to follow directions? Okay,” I say and then cup her cheek and bring her in close to me.
I let my lips barely drag over her cheek and then to her ear, where I kiss her lobe, then the spot below her ear and across her jaw. Her breathing picks up as I move over to her chin and then to the other side of her jaw.
“I wasn’t not touching you because I didn’t want to touch you,” I say as I tilt her chin up with my thumb and then work my lips down her neck. “I wasn’t touching you because if I did…I probably wouldn’t have stopped.”
My lips move up to her cheek, to the spot below her ear again, and then back to her cheek, where I reach her nose.
“If you haven’t realized, Scottie, I’m really fucking attracted to you, and I’m trying to give you space. Trying to let you heal.” I kiss the corner of her mouth, causing her to take in a deep breath. “I’m trying to be a goddamn gentleman, but apparently”—I kiss the other corner of her mouth—“you don’t want that.” And then I press my lips to hers, shattering the calm that’s been building between us and twisting our situationship into chaos, because holy fuck, her lips are so soft.
Fucking softest lips I’ve ever kissed in my life.
And this is exactly why I was trying to stay away, keep a healthy distance, because I knew this was going to happen. One taste was all it would take to wake me up and start my craving.
I slide my hand behind her head, cupping the nape of her neck, and cup her ass with my other hand, pulling her in even tighter. Her arms lock around my neck as she kisses me back.
She kisses me back softly, with no urgency, just enjoying the feel of our mouths entwining.
She’s slow, thoughtful, not taking, just receiving.
Which makes me feel even more crazed, even more dazed. Because I’m thrumming inside.
Burning.
It’s as if one touch of her lips to mine was like a bolt of lightning zapping through me, waking me up from a slumber I’ve been in for years.
“Okay, switch,” Sanders calls out as Scottie pulls away.
Jesus.
Slowly, my eyes open as I take in her expression. Her tongue peeks out and wets her lips, making me feel absolutely fucking unhinged.
She gets up from my lap, and before she can walk away, I snag her hand in mine and move over to the next chair. Once we’re settled, Sanders starts the music, and I try to gather myself as my heart hammers in my chest. I pull the card from the side and read it out loud.
“Make out.”
My chest goes heavy as I set the card to the side. Her hand smooths up my chest to the back of my neck, and then she moves her body in close, her breasts scraping against my chest before her mouth connects with mine, but this time, she’s in control.
And this time, she parts my lips, slipping her tongue against mine.
I sigh into the kiss and allow her to control it as I bring my hands to her shirt and slide them under the fabric and right up her back, my palms to her heated skin.
She scoots in closer and tangles her tongue with mine, taking the card incredibly seriously, which creates an inferno between us. And even though we’re in a room where other couples are around us, I can only feel her. I am only interested in her.
Heat builds and builds inside me, lighting me up and making me so goddamn desperate for the next taste, for the next lick, for so much more than just making out.
I want to unsnap her bra and play with her breasts, feel her up like she wanted me to, like she felt me up this morning. I’d drop her down to the ground, bring her shirt over her head, and allow my tongue to wander. To taste her skin, to wait desperately to see what kind of sounds she makes. I’d find myself between her legs, licking, sucking. I want to explore her gorgeous body. Fuck, I want to feel those legs of hers wrapped tightly around me.
With every pass of her tongue across mine, that need grows stronger and stronger as a moan falls out of my throat.
Her grip on me grows tighter.
Her mouth opens wider.
And I take that moment to slip my hand past the waistband of her jeans, where I grip her ass just as Sanders calls out, “Time’s up.”
“Fuck,” I mutter as she pulls away, leaving me in a goddamn daze.
Lazily, I watch as her tongue drags over her lips, keeping her eyes on me the entire time.
Fuck me.
Fuck fucking me.
I’m turned on.
I’m hard.
I’m now desperate for more.
I feel unhinged, and at any point, I might just snap from the need pulsing through me for this woman.
“Next and last chair,” Sanders says.
Clearing my throat, I stand from the chair, adjust myself quickly, and then walk over to the last chair, wondering if this where we end up dry humping. I mean, we’ve built up to that point. I wouldn’t be surprised, and frankly, I’m kind of hoping for it.
“Okay, read your cards,” Sanders calls out.
I reach to the side, grab the card, and then read it out loud as my body buzzes from the kiss we just shared.
“Tell each other your favorite drink.” My brows knit together. “That’s the task? Tell each other our favorite drink?” I look at the back of the card, wondering if this is a trick. Where is the dry humping? Where’s the kissing and fondling? Where’s the “Get naked with your partner and have a good time”? “He’s going to make us go from making out to telling each other our favorite drink? Why?”
“Maybe because you’re parched after making out,” she says.
“Are you parched?”
She just shrugs her shoulders, acting so fucking nonchalant that it actually doesn’t settle well. Because we just made out, tongue and all, and she’s acting like it’s another day in the office. Like our kiss had zero effect on her.
That can’t possibly be true.
Isn’t she buzzing like I am?
Isn’t she ready to move this to the next step?
Doesn’t she want more?
“Well, I guess I’ll lead the conversation since you seem a little stumped.” She taps her chin with her finger and says, “Hmm, you know, I think I’ll have to go with an Arnold Palmer. There’s something about the iced tea, lemonade combination that gets me every time. But it has to be a good ratio, you know? It can’t be too sweet with the lemonade, and the iced tea has to be unsweetened.”
So she’s just going to act like everything is normal and talk about iced tea to lemonade ratios? How?
How is she not inwardly panting?
How does she not look dazed and confused?
How is she not on the verge of licking me all over like I want to lick her?
Claim her.
“What about you?” she asks.
I scratch the back of my head and say, “Uh, I don’t know…Dr Pepper.”
“Really? Kind of thought you would say Coke because of your soda app.”
Shit, she’s right. I can’t even think of my favorite drink, that’s how out of sorts I am.
“Are we talking your main love? Like that’s what you need in order to live? I mean, I guess I don’t need an Arnold Palmer to live, but that wasn’t the question either. Just our favorite drink, so I think I’ll stick with my answer. You sticking with Dr Pepper?”
I stare at her.
Blink.
Grow annoyed with her easygoing attitude.
“Yeah. Sticking with Dr Pepper,” I answer, even though inwardly, I’m screaming Coke. I love Coke!
“Great.”
“Time’s up,” Sanders says.
“Well, this was fun,” Scottie says as she gets off my lap.
“Yeah,” I say, still confused by her change of attitude.
“I actually think I have to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” She pats my chest and then takes off as if everything in the world is fine.
Meanwhile, I’m over here reeling.
Fucking reeling.
Because I just made out with Scottie, and I more than liked it. I loved it.
I want to do it again.
And again.
But this time, with her shirt off.
This time, with her bra off.
This time…in fucking private. With every article of clothing off our bodies.