Chapter 39
It’s been a long week. I came over to Scott’s after work last night. We’ve spent all day in bed, but I’m restless. It’s not like me to be so static. And I want to get out and do something couple-y. I roll over and grin at him.
“Get ready.” I lean in and kiss him.
“What?”
“I’m taking you out.” I climb out of bed and head to my pile of clothes, tugging them on swiftly.
“What?”
“Nerd, get ready, I’m taking you out. I wanna show my boyfriend off.” His eyes widen. I stalk towards him, I pin him to the bed, wrap my arms around him and tug him closer. I lean in, his glasses steaming slightly, and he bites his lip.
“Boyfriend?”
I flick him on the forehead. “Yes, dipshit. We’ve been through this. Boyfriend. Now, wear something cute, I’m taking you clubbing.” I climb off him.
“Like a date.”
I tug him off the bed. “Not like a date. An actual date.” I give him a quick kiss. As his eyes flutter closed, I grip his shoulders, spin him, and smack his ass. His hands fly to his cheeks as he yelps and jerks.
“Shower, wear something cute. I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up.” I blow him a kiss and turn, walking swiftly downstairs and out to my car. I blow out a breath. I’m really doing this.
A boyfriend. I shake my head and laugh. I have a fucking boyfriend.
I drive the short distance home, rushing through the door, up the stairs, and diving straight into the shower. I scrub, trim, and shave. I groan, fuck, I need to be inside him again. I can’t believe I’m being all fucking needy and shit.
Normally, I’m a one-hit wonder, fuck ’em and chuck ’em, but less nasty. They try again, but I set my boundaries. With Scott, I just can’t get enough of him. Everything about him has me wanting—no, needing—him.
I never thought I would ever feel like this, least of all about Scott. He’s been my almost-brother for as long as I care to remember. That night, the one that changed it all forever, was when I truly saw him, saw the man he had become, and now I just can’t get enough.
I climb out of the shower, wiping my hand down the mirror and staring at the smudged reflection.
I toss a smirk. As I run my fingers through my hair, scrubbing a little product into it, letting it fall where it wants.
I wrap a towel around my waist and one over my shoulders as I walk into my room, heading to the wardrobe.
I peruse everything and grab out a pair of ripped jeans and a white vest top.
I’ll pair my worn military shirt with my military boots.
I spray my aftershave and moisturise my face. My five o’clock shadow is neatly trimmed. I drop the towel, letting it pool at my feet, and I get dressed.
I look around the room, pick up the towels and dirty clothes, take them into the bathroom, come back, and straighten the bed. Finally, I snatch up my wallet, my phone, and order an Uber.