Chapter 19
Nineteen
The drive from Beck’s Airstream to my house on Crystal Lake is short. She had been chatting about music ever since she got into the truck but fell completely silent when I pulled to a stop in the driveway in front of my house. Glancing over, I see her eyes have widened and her lips are parted.
“What?” I ask, looking from her to the house and back again.
“This is where you live?” Her words rush out as she stares out the windshield at my two-story log home.
“Yes,” I say slowly, trying to see what she does.
“Oh my God. It’s so beautiful,” she gushes as she opens the door and hops out.
After grabbing her bag from the back seat, I meet her in front of the truck.
“Thank you. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it.”
Before this place, I was renting a small house in the village.
It was comfortable and close to work, but it never felt like mine.
Then, this house hit the market. My real estate agent called and told me she had found exactly what I wanted.
I was skeptical, but the moment I saw it, I knew.
It reminds me of my grandfather’s house and the comforting feeling of being there with him. Thirty days later, I took possession.
Though it’s a little older, the large log house had been well looked after by the previous owners. I worked with a contractor to make a few updates before I moved in. Now, I can’t imagine living anywhere else.
“Did Grace design your gardens?” she asks as we follow the walkway to the front porch.
“She did. Before she took over, it was a bunch of dirt, rocks, and a few unkempt bushes. Now I have maintenance-free perennial gardens. Every so often she shows up and cuts things back, and new flowers grow like magic.”
“They’re beautiful. I love how they look like they are a natural part of the existing landscape.” She smiles softly and says, “If I ever own a house, I would like gardens like this.”
“Let’s go inside. I don’t want you to get cold.”
Using the keypad, I unlock the door, and we step inside. The temperature has dropped since I was home last, so I turn up the thermostat and the gas-powered fireplace in the living room.
Curiously, she wanders farther into the room, running her fingers along the back of my leather couch. Stopping at the bookshelf, she examines the titles. “I have some of these. I didn’t know you read psychological thrillers and mysteries too.”
“Yeah, I love to read. Sometimes I’ll throw in horror to freak myself out.”
“I never took you for a masochist.” She raises an eyebrow at me.
I join her when she reaches the large windows that cover the entire front wall facing the water.
Though I have waterfront property, my house sits up on a hill among the trees, overlooking the quiet lake.
I hired a landscaping company to make a path made of flagstone down to the water’s edge.
We are lucky that this is a quiet lake, with no obnoxious speedboats racing around destroying the shoreline.
I can’t see my neighbours on either side, and that’s okay with me.
I appreciate the privacy and peace I’ve found here.
“Wow, I didn’t realize you were up so high. The view is breathtaking.” Tilting her head, she points towards the small cottage on the water’s edge across the lake. “Is that Hannah’s cabin?”
Standing behind her, I lean over her shoulder and point. “Yes, and that one over there belongs to Brian Marshal.”
“Really?” She looks up at me with her nose scrunched. “I thought he lived in the village. Is it an income property?”
“No, he divides his time between the two, I think. The lights are on over there most nights.”
“I had no idea. But I also try not to think about him at all, so how would I?” She chuckles, turning away from the window.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” I ask. “There isn’t much variety, but I know I have coffee, tea, and water. Or are you ready to have a bath?”
“Bath first, drink later, please.”
“Follow me,” I say, leading her up the stairs and down the hall towards my bedroom.
As we enter, she takes in the sparse space. “This is a great room.”
“I don’t know about that. It’s kind of dull.” It really doesn’t have much personality. Wooden floors and furniture. Various shades of grey cover the walls, windows, and bed.
“I really like the dormer. It would be perfect for a little reading nook. You know what else would look good in here?”
“Tell me,” I encourage. “I haven’t really done much in here.”
“A splash of red. I can see it now.” She holds her hands up like a frame as she slowly turns in place. “Pillows, blankets, maybe an accent wall. Ooooh and art. Definitely art on the walls. I bet Hannah has something at the gallery that would be perfect.”
“Huh.” Rubbing my palm across my jaw, I look around, trying to see it through her eyes. “Maybe you could help me pick a few things out. I have no idea what to buy.”
“That would be so much fun. I really enjoy decorating.”
“The bathroom is right through here.” Turning on the light, I step aside so she can enter first.
“Holy shit, Ryan, this is incredible.” She spins around with her eyes wide before gravitating to a large window that overlooks the lake above the trees. “I feel like I’m in the clouds.”
“Don’t worry about the window. You can see out, but nobody can see in. It’s completely private,” I tell her as I place her bag on the floor.
“I wouldn’t care even if they could. This is magnificent,” she gushes, glancing over her shoulder at me. “The women you bring here must love it.”
“There are no women. The only person who has ever been in this room besides me is you.”
“Why?” She furrows her forehead as she turns to face me completely.
Leaning my shoulder against the doorframe, I cross my ankles. “I’ve never dated locally. Professionally, that would be a nightmare. Chances are a close friend or family member would be a current or former client, and I don’t want to deal with that.”
“But surely you have brought other women here.”
“No.” I purse my lips and shake my head slowly before saying, “It’s not like I date a lot, so it’s no big deal for me to travel out of town.”
When she remains silent, I enter the room to collect towels and turn on the faucet. After checking the water temperature, I turn to her and say, “I’m sorry I don’t have any bubbles, but I have bath salts. Do you want some of that?”
“Sure,” she whispers.
Smiling softly, she watches me pour the granules into the water and swish it around with my hand. Stepping away, I dry my fingers with a towel hanging by the sink.
“I’ll leave you to it. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
As I turn away to leave the room, she places her hand on my arm to stop me. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she rests her head on my shoulder. Returning her hug, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m just happy. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome.” I hold her close for a moment longer before placing a kiss on top of her head. “Take as much time as you want. I’m going to take a shower in the bathroom down the hall. I’ll meet you downstairs when you are done.”
Stepping away, I leave her to enjoy her bath. I pause outside, leaning my head on the closed door, listening to her removing her clothes, turning off the tap, and the splash of her stepping into the hot water. My cock has already grown hard with the thought of her naked and wet only feet away.
Grabbing a change of clothes from my closet, I head down the hall to the guest bathroom.
I set them on the counter, turn the shower on, and strip.
The hot water hits my shoulders as I step under the spray, easing some of the tension I’ve been carrying since last night at Beck’s trailer.
I pump shampoo into my hand and work it through my hair, focusing on the simple motions.
Wash. Rinse. Breathe. Trying to think of anything but her. But it’s hopeless.
Squirting a generous amount of body wash into my palm, I run it along my neck, shoulders, chest, then down over my abdomen.
When I reach my swollen cock, I don’t hesitate to wrap my hand around the base.
Closing my eyes, I brace my opposite forearm on the cool tile and begin moving my hand slowly up and down the length of my shaft.
Visions of Beck immersed in the water, pink nipples just above the surface, fill my mind. Her head tilts back, eyes closing as she parts her legs beneath the water. Her hand drifts down her body, and a soft whimper slips from her lips when she reaches her pussy.
I imagine her pleasuring herself as she thinks of me.
My heart pounds as I sink into the fantasy—her fingers circling her clit before sliding them inside. Her lips part as she cries out my name.
“Fuck,” I groan under my breath as the vision takes hold.
Hot water pours over my skin as my hand glides over my slick cock from root to tip. The warmth in my gut coils tighter, pulling another low moan from my throat. The slow rhythm doesn’t last long before it quickens, my hand moving faster as the pressure inside me steadily builds.
My body tenses, taking over before my mind catches up.
Control slips. My strokes turn rough and uneven as the sensation climbs higher, tightening until it finally snaps.
I bite my lip with a groan as pleasure crests, and the release tears through me in hard, pulsing waves.
My hips jerk and breath shudders as I ride it out and come against the shower wall while the water continues to stream down on me.
For a moment, I lean into the tile, trying to catch my breath and steady myself. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought of Beck while taking care of myself, and it certainly won’t be the last. But she has never been in my house while I was doing it before.
Removing the showerhead, I rinse the wall, washing away any evidence of my pleasure.