Chapter 9
BECKETT
BY THE TIME we’d left the party and were walking back to the cabin—in not-so-straight lines—Sawyer was talking. A lot.
Not the rambling sort of talking he did when he was nervous, which was cute as hell. Alcohol made him looser and more open in a different sort of way. I could only imagine how the buildup to seeing Peter again had put him on edge, but their interaction had sent Sawyer into “fuck it” mode.
“I’m just saying,” he went on as he kicked the cabin door shut behind us and shrugged out of his blazer, tossing it somewhere in the general vicinity of the chair but missing. “If someone dares you to prove you can still do the Worm, you do the Worm. That’s, like, a rule.”
“No is a full sentence.”
“Eh, where’s the fun in that?” He bent down to remove his shoes and winced.
“And that’s why,” I said, my eyes going to his rolling his shoulder to try to relieve the ache, “stretching beforehand might’ve helped.”
“Well, in my defense, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Did it at least look impressive?”
“Oh yes. The Worm’s always a showstopper.”
Sawyer grinned to himself and kicked off his shoes instead. “I bet Peter’s date wouldn’t even be able to get back up off the floor if he tried it.”
“Probably not.”
“Man, he missed out big time. He could’ve had all this, but noooo.” He frowned suddenly and began to pat his pockets. “Shit, I lost the keys.”
I held up the cabin key. “These keys?”
“Oh, you’re good,” he said, shaking a finger at me. “A master pickpocket.”
“You handed them to me.”
“I didn’t— Oh yeah. Well, that was smart of me, then. Giving my hot boyfriend the keys. My hot, fake boyfriend. God, why are you so hot? It’s not fair.” He gestured vaguely at me. “I’m a mess and you look perfect.”
I shook my head. “You’re not a mess.”
“I am. I’m not always this way, but…” He stretched his neck from side to side, a crease forming between his brows as he reached up to rub at his shoulder. “Okay, yeah, maybe I slightly regret the Worm.”
“I bet. Turn around.”
He blinked at me. “Do what?”
“Turn around,” I repeated, walking toward him. “Let me see.”
For a second I thought he might argue, but then he bit his lip and turned, facing away from me with a dramatic little sigh.
“I’m fine, rea—” he started, but cut off the second my hands found him.
Even through the thin fabric of his shirt, I could feel it immediately—the tightness along the left side of his upper back, the muscle knotted from the sudden strain. Nothing serious, but enough irritation to make every movement just uncomfortable enough to be a problem.
“Oh my God,” he said with a low moan.
“Told you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fix me, oh wise one.”
I adjusted my stance, one hand braced lightly at his shoulder, while the other pressed more firmly into the knot, testing the tension.
He sucked in a breath. “Jesus, okay. Yeah, that’s… Damn.”
“Breathe for me.”
“I am breathing,” he said, though it came out a little uneven as I worked deeper, my thumb circling the tight muscle with practiced precision. “I just didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“Not too bad. Just tight.”
“That’s what he said.”
I bit back a smile. “I asked for that.”
“You did.” When I hit an especially tender spot, he let out another groan and swayed a bit.
“Why don’t we move over to the bed?”
Sawyer’s eyes shot open, and I saw him swallow, but he didn’t say anything.
“Lie on your stomach,” I said, and when he stayed frozen in place, I added, “So I can work on your shoulder.”
“Oh. Right. My shoulder…on the bed. I mean, I’ll get on the bed so you can… Yeah.” He put a knee on the mattress to do what I’d asked but then sat up suddenly and plucked at his shirt. “Do I need to take this off?”
Yes was my immediate thought, but I held back. Not because I didn’t want to see what Sawyer was packing beneath his clothes, but because he wasn’t exactly in a place for anything more than support at the moment.
“It’s easier to manipulate on bare skin, but whatever you’re comfortable with,” I said.
I expected more hesitation on his part, but Sawyer immediately dragged his shirt up and over his head, careless and unthinking, like it didn’t matter.
And it didn’t. I could look at this like a job. Find the tension, work it out, keep it professional.
He tossed the shirt aside and climbed onto the mattress, and I tried and failed not to notice him.
The warm, sun-kissed tone of his skin even though summer was long gone, the broad lines of his back that projected a strength he kept covered up—which was a damn shame.
Sawyer was gorgeous, and he didn’t even seem to know it.
I was so caught up in the way his muscles shifted as he moved to his stomach that it took me longer than it should’ve to realize he was ready and waiting for me.
His skin was warm beneath my hands as I ran them over the entirety of his neck and shoulders, getting a good feel for the places he needed extra attention.
“Feels good,” he said, closing his eyes. “You’re really good at that.”
“I’ve had practice.” I moved my fingers along the line of his shoulder, pressing and working the tension out slowly. “Just relax.”
“I am very relaxed.”
I worked deeper into the muscle, pressing my thumb into the knot, and Sawyer let out a breath that sounded more like a groan.
“Oh yeah. Don’t stop,” he murmured, and no, I was not taking that in any other way than how he meant it.
“Wasn’t planning to.” I adjusted my stance beside the bed, my knee on the mattress to get a better angle.
My hands moved slower, more deliberately as I worked the tension out of his body, feeling the way he melted beneath my touch.
I’d done this a million times. It should’ve been routine and mechanical, just another body, another injury.
But nothing about this felt routine—how every small reaction he made had my cock taking notice. The way his breathing changed, the way his fingers flexed in the sheets, and, God, the sound he made when I hit the exact right spot.
“You weren’t kidding about being good at this,” he said, his eyes still shut. “Beckett and his magical hands.”
You should see what else I can do with them, I thought as I slid my hands a little lower, following the line of tension. Sawyer gasped, his back tightening instinctively before easing again.
“Oh yeah, that’s the one,” he said. “I’m definitely keeping you around.”
“Not going anywhere.”
“Good.” He went temporarily quiet as I continued to work him over, then said, “This really is bullshit, though.”
“What? Injuries from the Worm?”
“That’s on my list too. I was talking more about the fact that not only are you my perfect, offensively hot fake boyfriend, not only can you apparently win over my entire family in one night, but you can also do this?” He let out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s a lot.”
“Offensively hot, huh?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, a smile in his voice. “But yes. It’s rude, honestly. There must be a flaw somewhere.”
“Not one I’m broadcasting.”
“Well, there’s where I went wrong. That’s all I do.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being honest.” My fingers moved up the curve of his neck, and he shivered. “You wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s refreshing.”
“You don’t have to say that because I’m paying you.” His tone was teasing, but there was something self-conscious behind it.
“I wouldn’t say anything I don’t mean, Sawyer. Not even for money.”
He went silent, but I felt the way the air changed between us as I continued to work out the knots in his body. It was charged. Heated. I was all too aware of him, and the way his pulse kicked up told me he was feeling it too.
His throat worked as he swallowed, and then he said a little too casually, “So, um. You ever think about going back to this? Because you could charge an insane amount of money.”
I didn’t want to lie to Sawyer, but I had to navigate around his assumptions if this wasn’t going to explode in my face.
“Maybe,” I said vaguely.
“You should. I mean it. This is life changing.”
“High praise.”
“Earned praise,” he said, glancing at me over his shoulder. His eyes were a little dazed—not glassy from alcohol but from the effect my hands were having on him—but they were still able to hold mine. “Seriously, Beckett. You’re…you’re kind of incredible.”
I stilled, not responding right away as we stared at each other. The line was there, just begging to be crossed, and I couldn’t say I wasn’t thinking about it.
But no. I couldn’t do that.
“Try it now,” I said, pulling back from him.
Sawyer sat up and rolled his shoulders cautiously, then blinked. “Holy shit. That actually does feel better.”
“Good.”
“Wow.” He turned to face me fully, his proximity—and his bare chest—suddenly a hell of a lot more noticeable without the distraction of what I’d been doing. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
A beat passed. Then another. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and for a heartbeat I thought he’d lean in. If he did, I knew I wouldn’t stop him.
I should. But I wouldn’t.
But then Sawyer looked away suddenly, dragging a hand through his hair and breaking the moment. “So. Logistics question.”
“Go on.”
He inclined his head at the bed. “We’ve got a situation.”
“One bed.”
“Right. I feel like I should offer to be a gentleman and take the couch.”
“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” I said, and when his eyes heated slightly, I pointed out, “for your shoulder.”
“Oh. Well…maybe the floor, then—”
“No.”
He arched a brow. “No?”
“No.”
“That’s very bossy of you.”
“I’m a bossy guy.”
He stared at me for a second, and then grinned and shook his head. “Well, I’m not making you sleep on the floor, so—”
“Neither of us is sleeping on the floor. Or the couch.”
Sawyer glanced at the bed again, then back at me before biting his lip. “Right, okay. It’s a big bed. We can…share.”
Clearly the man was feeling a certain way about this situation, and I couldn’t blame him. My dick being in the vicinity of all that naked skin was going to get me in trouble, but for fuck’s sake, it was a king-sized bed and there was no reason we couldn’t both sleep in it.
“How about we compromise,” I said, standing and grabbing the throw pillows off the couch, making sure to angle them in front of my hips as I walked back to the bed. I dropped the pillows down in the center of the huge mattress, creating a clear divide.
Sawyer smirked. “A pillow barrier. Nice.”
“It works. No need for the floor.”
He nodded, running his fingers through his hair again as he stood up. I tried and failed not to notice the long, lean lines of his body as he stretched his arms up, testing his shoulder.
That reminded me…
With my dick calming down enough not to give me away, I headed to my bag, threw a pair of lounge pants over my shoulder, and grabbed the pain reliever I’d brought.
Then I made my way to the small kitchen to put together a makeshift ice pack, filling a glass of water too before heading back to Sawyer.
Who was climbing into bed in a tiny pair of boxer briefs and nothing else.
Fuck.
I looked away before he could catch me staring, focusing on bringing him the anti-inflammatories.
“This will help.” I set the water and pill bottle on the nightstand beside him. He’d pulled the sheet up to his hips at least, and I motioned him to lean forward so I could place the ice behind him. “Leave this on for about fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“Yes, Dr. Beckett.” He lay back on it, flinching slightly before relaxing. “Dr. Becks. Yeah, Becks is kinda hot. A hot name for my hot fake boyfriend.”
“You can call me whatever you like.” I poured a couple of the pills into my palm and held them out to him with the water. He took them willingly, never breaking eye contact as he swallowed.
Walk away right now, I told myself, willing my feet to move from where they were planted by his side of the bed.
Sawyer handed me the glass, and that was the out I needed to break our connection and move.
“Get some sleep,” I said roughly, pulling my lounge pants off my shoulder as I rounded the bed. I toed off my shoes as Sawyer flicked off the light on his side of the room, and then I started undoing the buttons of my shirt.
“Get some sleep,” he repeated, chuckling slightly. “You say that like I’m not going to be hyperaware of the fact you’re lying right there.”
I paused, glancing back at him. “Will you be?”
He didn’t look all that tipsy anymore as he nodded. “Probably.”
“Good.”
His breath caught as he watched me continue undressing. “Good?”
“Means you won’t do the Worm again tomorrow.”
That made him laugh, breaking the tension just enough. “God, I hope not. One time is enough.”
I shrugged out of my shirt, setting it neatly over the edge of the couch, then unbuckled my belt and turned back for the lounge pants on the bed, only to notice I had Sawyer’s undivided attention.
He was watching me with more than casual interest as I lowered my zipper, and that was dangerous, considering my body’s reaction to him tonight.
Yeah, I definitely needed the lounge pants. The more I could put between us, the better.
I avoided his gaze but could feel the heat of it as I folded my pants, added them to the pile on the couch, and threw on the loungers.
And did I maybe bend over in his direction to do that?
Yeah. I did. Fucking sue me.
He’d noticed too, because I caught him licking his lips before I pulled back the covers and shut off the light on my side, plunging the room into darkness.
Shit. This was even worse.
We were separated by a line of pillows that felt like the thinnest barrier in the world. It would be too easy to remove the obstacles and reach for him, but I wouldn’t do that.
No, I’d lie here, thinking about it until I passed out, though I had a feeling sleep wasn’t going to come easy tonight.
Not for either of us.