Chapter 18 #2
The movie plays, but I can't focus. All my awareness centers on the woman beside me.
The way she absently plays with her hair.
She makes these soft sounds of amusement as she watches the movie.
After she flicks her long hair over her shoulders, my eyes keep finding the graceful curve of her neck.
It would be so easy to turn my head and press my lips at the tender juncture where her neck meets her shoulder.
Fuck me. I'm painfully hard and grateful for the blanket. I try to think about anything except how easy it'd be to tilt her face up and kiss her. Her mouth's right there, pink and plump, her lips looking like they'd be warm and soft.
When the movie ends, she shifts and winces. I notice immediately and gesture to her.
"Your ankle's swelling more. Let me see."
"It's fine."
I snort. "Don't lie to me."
She scoots forward on the bed. I make a split-second decision and pull her legs onto my lap.
Talk about intimate. Now I've undoubtedly upped the ante.
I hear her sudden intake of breath as my hands slide down her calf to her ankle, checking the swelling and testing the range of motion.
She's tense under my touch. Her breathing isn't steady.
"You're tensing," I murmur. My mouth's too close to her ear.
"I wonder why." Her voice is breathless.
"Relax. I won't hurt you."
I work my thumbs into the muscles around her ankle, careful but firm. Every sound she makes goes straight through me. Small gasps. Quiet sighs. The way she leans back toward me without thinking. My control hangs by a thread.
I find myself wondering, What would happen if we hooked up? Just this one time, to get it out of our systems?
"You're surprisingly good at this," she says.
"I’m a professional hockey player." My voice sounds rough. "Sore ankles are my thing."
After a minute, she turns her head slightly and looks at me over her shoulder. "Your shoulder must be killing you after carrying me. Let me work on it."
Every alarm in my head goes off. "No. I'm okay."
She purses her lips. "Silas."
"It's fine."
"You're lying. You've been favoring your left side all day."
She's right. We both know it. My right shoulder throbs constantly, and it was made worse when I carried her. "I don't need help."
"Turn around," she says gently. "Let me, please."
The refusal sticks in my throat. Slowly, like I'm walking toward something I won't be able to undo, I turn my back to her.
The first touch of her hands makes me jolt. She starts at the base of my neck with steady pressure. A sound escapes me before I can stop it. Relief and desire twist together, too close for comfort.
"You're carrying so much tension," she murmurs. She works deeper.
Her hands feel too good. Every touch sends heat through my body.
I grip my thighs, trying to anchor myself, but she finds a tight knot and presses her thumbs into it.
I groan before I can stop myself. My body responds instantly.
Heat builds low and fast. My cock hardens with every pass of her hands.
They call me Ice Man. The guy who doesn't feel anything. But right now, with Scout's hands on me, the ice is shattering. Every touch cracks the facade I've built over years.
I'm not cold. I'm burning. Desperate. Starving for contact I've denied myself for so long I forgot what it felt like to want someone this badly.
Her professional touch shouldn't affect me like this, but it does.
Because it's Scout. I've wanted her for years, even when I tried to pretend I didn't. Now every touch is one more I'll remember when this is over and she's gone.
"Scout." Her name comes out as a warning.
"It's okay," she whispers. Her breath hits the back of my neck.
It's not okay. I'm sitting here getting hard from her innocent touch.
I'm imagining her hands moving lower. I'm imagining turning around and pressing her into this mattress.
My hips rock forward slightly without permission, searching for friction that isn't there.
Another groan escapes, and this time I know she hears the want in it.
Scout puts a hand to my chest, as though trying to settle me. Our eyes meet, her green gaze questioning. We're stuck, trapped in a moment together. I don't dare to move because I don't want this spell to break.
Then Scout dips her head and brushes her petal-soft lips against mine.
A groan rips its way from my throat. I thrust my hand in her thick curls and tug her head back, licking the seam of her lips until she parts for me, lets me in.
A mistake, surely, but I take full advantage of the weakness.
I tangle my tongue with hers, plunging inside her mouth.
She tastes as sweet as candy bursting across my tastebuds. My instinct is to lean in, move her back into the pillows behind her. I'm crazed enough that I just want to be inside of her body any way that I can.
Just as I moan again and move closer, I feel her hesitant palm against my chest. She breaks away, whispering against my lips. "Si, wait."
Fuck. I scramble back and swipe at my lips. My eyes fasten on her face, her flushed expression, the hard breaths she's taking. Fuck me.
"Silas..." she starts, reaching for me.
Yeah, that's not gonna happen. I've already crossed so many lines. I bound to my feet, moving so fast I nearly knock her over. "I need a shower."
The look of perfect surprise on her face nearly does me in.
I'm in the bathroom before she can respond.
I lock the door and turn the water on full blast. My hands shake as I strip off my clothes.
I'm so hard it hurts. My cock strains as I climb in the shower.
Precum beads at the tip. I grip myself with my good hand and jerk my cock, a man on a mission.
I'm not gentle. I'm not patient. Before I do something truly stupid, I need this handled.
The first stroke makes me hiss. I lean against the shower wall and let the water run over my back, giving in to what I've been fighting all day.
I think about Scout's hands on me and imagine them moving lower.
I think about her mouth, how she tasted when I kissed her, and how she'd taste everywhere else.
I imagine the moment she parts her thighs and begs me to fuck her.
My hand moves faster and rougher.
"Scout," I groan. I don't care if she hears through the thin door. I'm too far gone to care about anything except the picture in my head. I imagine her on her knees, looking up at me with those eyes, taking me in her mouth. Or lying on the bed, begging me to touch her.
That's it. The image pushes me over the edge. I come hard with her name on my lips, my whole body shuddering with the force of it. Good, some release. But not the same as touching her.
Reality comes back fast. Shame and want and frustration twist together. I stay under the water until it cools and I can think again. When I finally step out and wrap a towel around my waist, I can't look at her. She's sitting on the bed with her phone. Her cheeks are flushed, her hands shaking.
She heard. She knows. She clears her throat.
"The ferry's running again," she says. Her voice sounds raw. "The owner came up and let us know."
"Oh." I must sound disappointed. "That's good."
She purses her lips. "Silas..."
"Just..." I pull my shirt over my head. It's still damp but I can't bring myself to care. "Let's forget this happened."
Scout stares at me for a long beat. "Do you want to forget it?"
"Yeah." The lie hits hard, but it's necessary. This thing between us can't happen. I won't let it happen. I grab my bag and head for the door. I need distance before I lose whatever control I have left. "We'll leave in five minutes."
She doesn't argue. She only nods with a hurt look in her eyes.
We pack in silence. I steel myself as I scoop her up, then carry her to the car. It's silent as we drive to the ferry. I did this. I fucked it up.
She lays her seat back and closes her eyes. I get out, pacing over to the ferry's bow. Looking out, I tell myself this is for the best. We can go back to normal, to professional distance and careful boundaries.
But I can still feel her against my chest. I can still hear her breathing shift when I touched her. I can still taste her.
The storm isn't over. It's getting worse, building inside me with nowhere to go except toward sure disaster.