Chapter 13
SAWYER
THE SHOWER HAD not done a damn thing to stop the freak-out. If anything, it sent me spiraling even more.
If I stayed in there too long, he’d know I’d gotten myself off to him while standing under the hot spray and thinking about that hot-as-fuck kiss. I’d had to. Just to take the edge off.
But if I had showered too quickly, there would’ve been the chance neither of us cooled off enough to stop it from happening again, and around and around we’d go.
Or maybe I was just speaking for myself with that wishful thinking.
God, what the hell had just happened?
“Okay,” I muttered, running my fingers through my damp hair as I paced the room, since apparently standing still was no longer an option. “I’m not going to panic.”
Easier said than done when the sound of the shower kicked on.
Beckett. In the bathroom. Showering. Naked.
I stood there staring at the door for way longer than I should have before shaking my head, forcing myself to snap out of it.
“I’m not gonna think about that,” I said to myself. Out loud. Because my inner voice was absolutely not getting the message. “Not gonna think about you naked. Not gonna do it.”
Nope. I’d lied. I was definitely thinking about Beckett in the shower. Soaping up and running his hands down over his—
“Oh my God, you freak.” I turned, looking for a distraction, any distraction, and my gaze landed on the small kitchen counter.
Beckett had brought the strawberries and champagne inside, and judging by the opened bottle and half-empty glass beside it, he’d needed a drink.
The man was speaking my language.
I grabbed the champagne and poured myself a glass, waiting for the bubbles to go down before topping it off.
Mmm. It was tart and fizzy and exactly what I needed.
I plucked one of the strawberries off the tray and dropped it into the glass, letting it soak up the alcohol as I took another sip. And another.
Oh, fuck it—I finished off the whole damn thing, and the strawberry too.
But then all I could think about was the way his eyes had watched me eat one earlier, and…
great. Now I was standing there, half dressed, drinking alone in a cabin while the guy I’d just kissed was a few feet away.
Not to mention I was thinking something really insane that I probably shouldn’t be, and there was no one to stop me from a potentially bad decision.
Or a very good one. It could be a very, very good decision if I were to walk through the bathroom door and finish what we—
Nope. That was enough champagne for me.
I set the glass aside and headed over to the closet to grab one of the t-shirts I’d packed. The more covered up I was, the less likely it was that I’d feel the need to remove them…or whatever logic that was.
I flopped back on the bed and sighed. Normal people didn’t spiral after a kiss. Or think about barging in to join someone’s shower, who may or may not want you to.
God, I was losing it, I really was.
I glanced at the bathroom door and, when the water stayed on, turned my attention to the wooden beams that crisscrossed the ceiling.
Okay, fine. I could let myself think about that kiss until the shower shut off.
Giving myself that permission opened the floodgates, and I relived the moment I’d decided enough was enough and kissed him.
It had just felt so right at that moment.
Sitting between his thighs, wanting to rub my hands down them…
Melting into his touch as his hands worked me over.
Hearing him open up, our relating to each other in a way I hadn’t considered.
It was like the perfect storm, and I had to admit I was kind of proud of myself for making the first move.
And then…God. The way Beckett’s mouth had moved against mine was unreal. He knew exactly what he was doing, from the way his tongue stroked mine to the way he held me, like I was all that mattered even though he’d probably done it a thousand times before.
Fuck. That was it. That was the problem. He probably had, because that was his job.
Right? Was that part of it? The kiss? It had felt pretty real to me, but maybe that was just because he was so good at all of this. Not just the kiss, but the hot-tub surprise and how supportive and charming and perfect he’d been with everything since we arrived.
My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to think about the possibility the kiss was as fake as his boyfriend status.
We hadn’t exactly talked about it, so was the kiss just included? Did it cost extra? Did part of the job mean satisfying all aspects of the job, sex included?
Jesus Christ.
I pressed my palms over my eyes. What kind of person’s thought after kissing someone was What’s their pricing structure? It wasn’t exactly a topic I’d thought to bring up, because even as attractive as Beckett was, I hadn’t thought there would be more than just putting on an act.
Yet here we were, after a kiss that hadn’t felt fake or like he was checking something off the list of things to do for his job.
I swallowed, my gaze drifting to the bathroom door.
Part of me, the part that had been brave enough to make the first move, wanted to go in there to continue that, um, physical conversation, but would he be doing it because he was being paid to? Or because he wanted to?
Grabbing a pillow, I buried my face in it and let out a muffled groan, because this was getting out of hand. It was one kiss. One kiss that had completely wrecked me, but still. Just a kiss.
I’d hired Beckett, which meant I was seriously taking advantage of this situation, right? Unless he wanted it too?
But then, what if he said no?
What if, what if, what if.
I threw the pillow across the room in frustration. Trying to figure out the line between what was real and not real and whether I was crossing it was going to give me an aneurysm.
This was temporary. One week. That was it, and I needed to remember that.
Beckett was here because I’d asked him to be, because I needed a buffer, a distraction, and a safety net to get through this week without completely falling apart. He’d done all that and more, and dwelling on his tongue in my mouth wasn’t going to help anything.
I dragged a hand down my chest, exhaling slowly, trying to calm the restless, buzzing energy under my skin that refused to settle.
Okay, so hypothetically speaking, what if he was into it?
I liked that line of thinking a hell of a lot better. It was just that I’d only kissed him in the first place because of the way it felt like something had shifted between us. Something real cracked open, we’d had an emotional connection, and then I’d followed through by making it a physical one…
I swallowed hard, my fingers curling slightly against the sheets. Beneath the lounge pants I’d thrown on my dick was stirring again, clearly wanting more than the quick jerk I’d given it in the shower.
Going still, I listened for the sound of running water.
Then, with Beckett still occupied, my hand crept beneath the band of my pants.
I ran my palm down over my briefs, cupping my growing erection, and closed my eyes, sinking into the sensation and letting my mind run away with images of Beckett.
The way he’d looked in those short black swim trunks, his toned thighs caging me in…
My breath hitched as I slipped my fingers past the waist of my briefs, where the head of my cock was already wet with arousal. I coated my palm and grabbed hold of my dick, giving long, lazy strokes, imagining that it was Beckett’s hand instead. Those magic hands…giving me a full-body massage…
Oh yeah, that was doing it for me. My hips arched up into my hand as I pictured Beckett’s strong fingers gripping my ass to hold me tighter before sliding down between my cheeks. Spreading me and then pressing his finger—
The water shut off suddenly and my eyes flew open.
No. Oh no, no, no.
Panic hit sharp and fast, snapping everything back into reality, which meant he was about to walk out and see me getting myself off on the bed.
Shit, shit, shit.
I yanked back the covers and pulled them over me, turning on my side so my back was to the bathroom.
This was fine. Totally fine. I’d just pretend to be napping and he’d never see my erection or be any wiser about where my thoughts had gone.
My eyes caught on the pillow I’d thrown across the room, where it had landed at the entrance of the kitchen.
Too late to grab it now.
I heard the door open and quickly shut my eyes, forcing my breathing to even out like I wasn’t in the middle of a full-blown internal crisis.
Breathe slower. You’re asleep.
My heart’s hammering would probably give me away if he got too close. I strained to hear what was happening even as I fake slept, and that was when I heard it. Footsteps. Coming closer.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe wrong. Didn’t do anything that might give me away.
You are a chickenshit, Sawyer.
Beckett’s footsteps came to a stop at the foot of the bed.
“Really?” His voice was low, and a little amused.
Shit. Commit to the bit. Commit to the bit. He doesn’t know you’re faking it.
There was a moment of silence, and then quiet laughter.
“Yeah,” Beckett murmured. “That’s what I thought.”
God.
I was going to die.