Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Ellie
I'd been lying in bed at Sawyer's house for hours, staring at the ceiling, too wired to sleep.
Music had been playing in my ears since the moment I'd crawled under these covers, but even that hadn't been enough to quiet my mind.
When I finally pulled out my headphones and blinked into the silence, the house was almost too peaceful.
Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in his arms as he carried me away from the woman we were tracking down.
Then, the memory would change, and he was pinning me beneath him in the snow, that low, broken groan spilling from his lips.
The sound shouldn't still be echoing in my head, but there it was, making my skin burn and my thighs press together.
In my defense, there really had been a rock digging into my ass. I was just trying to survive two hundred-something pounds of football player crushing me into the frozen ground. That was survival instinct, nothing more.
So why had I thrown snow in his face instead of kissing him?
I don’t fucking know. Brilliant move, Ellie. Really brilliant.
I should’ve kissed him, or at least crawled into his lap and begged him to make good on the promise in his eyes.
We'd been faking this relationship for weeks, but something had shifted. My heart was caught somewhere between wild hope and free fall, and I was achingly aware he was just down the hall, probably shirtless and asleep—or maybe wanting me as much as I wanted him.
The restlessness finally won. I needed to move, to do something other than replay every moment on an endless loop. A trip to the bathroom seemed harmless enough—maybe cold water would shock some sense back into me.
I walked down the hall. The bathroom door was shut, but I figured Sawyer had already passed out. Just in case, I knocked lightly.
No answer.
I pushed the door open and froze, my jaw dropping wide open. Sawyer was next to the shower, completely naked.
Moonlight spilled over his back from the small window, tracing the muscles in a way that felt almost deliberate. It was almost as if the universe itself had conspired to spotlight him in this moment. He had one hand braced against the windowsill, the other wrapped tightly around his cock.
I knew I should’ve turned around—vanished, pretended this never happened. Instead, I stood there, wide-eyed, heart thudding in my chest like it was trying to escape. His back flexed with every movement, his biceps tightening.
God, he was breathtaking. Masculine, undone, and unashamed. It was intimate—so intimate, it stole the breath from my lungs.
It took him a second to realize I was there, but when he did, he didn’t flinch or cover himself.
He turned slowly toward me, and I gasped when we made eye contact.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” I spun around, heat rushing to my cheeks, embarrassment crashing over me.
“Stop.”
The single word halted me. I obeyed, my back still to him, pulse pounding in my ears.
“Turn around, Ellie.”
I should’ve said no. I should’ve left.
But I still couldn’t.
It wasn’t just the way he said my name. It was the quiet command in his voice, the way it wrapped around me like a tether, pulling me toward him.
So, I turned, and our eyes met once again. There was heat in his gaze. Dark, liquid heat poured into me and made my knees unsteady. My skin buzzed, awareness zipping down my spine like a live wire.
“Stay,” he murmured, his hand sliding back into motion.
“I—” My voice cracked. “I don’t think I should.”
“You definitely should, Ellie baby.”
He licked his lips slowly, his gaze dropping to my mouth like it was something he’d already tasted in his dreams. My breath caught.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Yeah?” He smirked.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
My feet didn’t move. My hands didn’t fidget. I was frozen, rooted to the floor and completely transfixed. He moaned, low and deep, and it vibrated straight through me. I couldn’t look away. Every stroke of his hand, every flex of his body was hypnotic.
I let my eyes roam over him—broad shoulders, carved abs, the thick line of his thigh muscles, the way his hand moved around himself. I bit my lip, my thighs pressing together on instinct.
“You like watching me, baby?”
I couldn’t find my voice, so I just nodded.
His mouth curved into something feral. “I think I like it too.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I didn’t look away.
“Be a good girl and put those pretty fingers in your panties for me. Let me watch you too.”
My breath hitched. “Sawyer, I don’t know if I—”
“You can.” His voice was silk and smoke.
My eyes dropped to the floor.
“Hey, eyes on me.”
The command lit something low in my belly. My gaze snapped back to him.
“Touch yourself, El,” he said, slower this time. “Let me see you. Let me see what I do to you.”
Unable to resist him any longer, I slipped my fingers beneath the waistband of my sleep shorts. The fabric brushed over my hypersensitive skin as I pressed my palm between my legs. Sawyer’s eyes tracked every movement—heavy-lidded and hungry.
“Take them off,” he said, voice deeper now, almost hoarse.
“I’m not…” My voice came out small, breathless.
“Ellie, are you trying to tell me if I walked over there right now and stuck my hand down your shorts, I’d find you bare?”
I nodded, and his jaw clenched.
“Fuck. Parading around my house like that?” He shook his head. “Take them off and let me see you.”
My breath hitched as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my sleep shorts and slowly eased them down.
Sawyer’s gaze dropped as the fabric pooled at my feet.
“Fuck, baby.”
My body trembled under the weight of his stare. I was aching in a way that made my whole body flush, and he hadn’t even touched me. My hand moved without thinking, tentative at first, the lightest touch against my swollen, aching clit enough to make my knees threaten to buckle.
I gasped, and my eyes fluttered shut.
“Keep looking at me,” he said, voice fraying at the edges.
My gaze snapped to him again.
“Touch yourself how you like it,” he murmured. “I want to know everything that makes you feel good. I want to burn it into my memory.”
His words were reverent, almost broken. My fingers circled, slipping lower and finding the exact rhythm that made pleasure thrum through me. I bit my lip to hold back a moan.
Sawyer groaned again, but this time, it was low and drawn out. His hand moved in slow strokes, each one matching the pace of mine, as if we were tethered—connected.
I couldn’t believe I wasn’t stopping this. I especially couldn’t believe how much I didn’t want to.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
My fingers moved faster, more confidently. I couldn’t stop watching him and imagining that it was him touching my skin.
He was starting to unravel in front of me.
The moonlight slid across his skin, catching the sweat on his chest, the flex of his muscles, the fierce concentration in his eyes.
Every breath was too loud. Every nerve in my body was too alert.
I shook, not from fear, but from the intensity of being wanted like that—looked at like that.
Dripping with need and breathless desire, my thighs trembled and my lips parted. I didn’t try to muffle the moan that slipped free this time.
Sawyer’s grip tightened. “That sound—fuck, Ellie. I need more of it. Don’t hold back.”
I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Something about him made me unable to restrain myself. I let out a soft and desperate moan as I moved faster. My whole body trembled, and I leaned against the wall for support.
He was watching every second. His strokes sped up, more ragged now.
“I want you so fucking bad,” he said, his voice wrecked. “I want my hands on you. You have no idea.”
“I think I do,” I whispered. My hips jerked forward, chasing the pressure. “Sawyer.”
“You gonna come for me, baby?” he asked, eyes locked on mine like he needed the answer to breathe.
I whimpered, unable to form words.
“Say yes.”
My head lolled back, my fingers frantic. “Yes,” I gasped.
“Let me hear you,” he growled. “Please. Don’t hide it. Not from me.”
That commanding voice pushed me over the edge. I shattered in front of him, his voice wrapped around me. A groan escaped his lips as he said my name and found his own release.
He shuddered, chest rising and falling until his movements slowed.
The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable.
It was just charged. After grabbing a towel and wrapping it around himself, he stepped toward me slowly.
Bending down, he tugged my shorts back up, his fingers lingering at my hips.
He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me against him, holding me like he didn’t want to let go.
His embrace was gentle and sweet in a way that didn’t match the rawness of what had just passed between us. That made it all the more disarming.
He leaned in, kissed my forehead, and murmured, “Good girl.”
With a playful swat to my ass, he walked out as if he hadn’t completely ruined me.
I stood there for a beat, dazed, and still catching my breath.