Chapter Seven
Messages: verb, meaning shopping for the groceries. Pronounced: Messages.
Drookit: adjective, extremely wet, drenched or soaked to the bone. Pronounced: Drew-kit.
* * *
Hunter
My heart flutters unexpectedly.
With her head still down, sheltering herself, she then looks upward.
She gasps out loud and shivers as the chilly gust of wind blows across her back as the door snicks shut.
For a moment, everything stops.
Eden sweeps her eyes up and down my body, then slowly wraps her arms around herself, pushing her delicious boobs upward underneath her thin tee, setting my cock ablaze.
Shit.
“Hi. We have to stop meeting like this,” she pants and flashes a wonderstruck smile.
No we don’t. I want to see you all the time.
“Did you say you’ve locked yourself out of your house?” I ask.
I want to reach out and touch her.
She rolls her eyes. “Eh, yeah. Dad has a spare key. I have a tendency to lock myself out from time to time. I let myself into my house, then stupidly flung my keys on the console table. Just as I was heading back to Ella’s car to unload my messages. I heard the wind slam my door closed. I must have forgotten to snap the latch back to keep it unlocked. So here I am. Typical me.”
“Messages?” I say, somewhat confused.
“Eh, shopping. Getting the groceries. Messages. Make sense?” she answers with amusement.
“I will say this again. You guys talk funny.”
“Again, Mr. King, you guys talk funny, not us. The word coffee is not pronounced kawfee.”
This girl.
“Smart-ass.”
“Uh-huh, that’s me.”
She swooshes past me, carving the air with her dainty body in behind the reception area.
“Are you needing anything? Were you waiting on someone?”
She doesn’t seem too shy around me this time. Must be the lack of ass spilling out of her shorts and being in neutral territory. Plus, she must feel better; she looks great.
Maybe it’s time to make my move.
I wonder if she feels well enough for me to bend her over the reception desk and fuck her into next week.
I’m so distracted by her erect nipples poking through her white off-the-shoulder tee. With the slogan, Teaching is My Jam, inside an illustrated jam jar. It’s soaked through from the rain and clinging to her killer curves. She’s clearly oblivious to the fact she’s the winner of the wet tee shirt competition that’s playing out in my head.
I’m trying my best to remember why the hell I came over here.
“Um. Eh. So. Yeah. Well. What did I come over here for again?” I say, scratching my head and clenching my eyes shut.
Don’t look. Be a gentleman.
I open my eyes again. My eyes lock on to her puckered nipples. It’s like my eyes are on a rocket launching mission. Target located.
Fuck me.
“Hunter?”
I clear my throat. “Eh, sorry. Yeah. I need some help with the log burner. I’ve never lit one before. I wondered if your dad would help me. But he’s not around, it would appear.”
“I can help. Let me grab my spare key and I’ll come over with you.”
She’s coming to my cabin, alone with me. My heart beats more rapidly. “That would be great, thanks.”
Eden ducks under the desk. I can hear her rummaging about, clattering through the keys, giving me just enough time to pull myself together and readjust myself.
What in the ever-loving hell is wrong with me and this girl?
“Got it.” She jumps up like a jack-in-the-box from behind the desk. Her bewitching boobs bounce up and down in response to her sudden quick movement.
Good God, give me strength. I’m never going to survive this.
“Aw, man,” I grumble, rubbing my fingers into my temples. I clench my eyes shut again and scrunch my face, mentally picturing her nipples. What color? What size? Are they sensitive?
“You okay, Hunter?”
“Eh, yeah. I have a sore head,” I lie.
I turn on my heel. Not looking at her.
“Shall we go?”
I hear her follow behind.
“You’re in Cabin One?”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Let’s go.”
The pair of us run across the gravel as the rain falls down in sheets. Dashing through my cabin front door at high speed, a wall of warmth inside instantly hits us.
“It’s drookit tonight.” Eden laughs and shakes herself out.
“I have no idea what that means.” I lift my eyebrows, confused.
“Eh, it means it’s wet, or I’m wet or soaked.”
Fuck.
Me.
Sideways.
Just as she stops talking, our eyes both look down at our interconnected hands. I’m not sure who grabbed whose hand as we were running through the rain.
She lets go of my hand suddenly.
“Sorry,” she answers shyly.
That answers that then. She grabbed mine.
My stomach flutters again. She wants me.
She motions to the living area. “Wood burner. Let me show you.”
Just keep your eyes off her wet tee.
Must keep eyes off her wet tee. Must not look at hard, puckered nipples.
I groan.
“You okay? Is it your head again?”
“Eh, yeah. My head.”
“Do you have painkillers? If not, I can go get you some. I have lots for this I haven’t used.” She smiles widely as she points to her face.
“Nah, I’m good, thank you. Eh, your face has healed really well. You can hardly tell where that peacock landed now.”
“It’s great. Still a little tender. But look at my thumb. It bends and everything, although it’s still stiff and painful. I am loving on my opposable thumb. I can even put my bra on and everything. Woo, go me. And my new Bambi car is on order too; she’ll be here in a week.” She gives herself a little cheer with a cute fist pump, then flushes with embarrassment.
She’s absurdly beautiful.
“So, wood burner…” She turns toward the living room. “Take me to it before I really make even more of a tit out of myself.”
We kneel on the floor and she shows me how to light the wood burner—how to get it going, what kindling to use, when to use the logs, and then how to keep the fire burning.
“I think I got it.” Although I’m not sure I was fully listening. I was too distracted by everything about her. She’s recovered well from her accident and I’m seeing a more confident side of her.
As I study her face this close, in this light, for this amount of time, I can finally see her properly. All the bruising and swelling has gone. Her delicate, heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and full lips. Her startling blue eyes encased in the longest lashes I’ve ever seen. I’m transfixed.
“Let me start this for you. Then you should only need to add a wee layer of logs to keep it going tonight.”
I turn to face her and notice she has something stuck to the side of her lip. It looks like frosting.
Pointing, I say, “You have something on your lip.”
“Oh, do I? I ate a cupcake in the car. Here?” She swipes her tongue out, missing it completely.
I reach out. “Here, I’ll get it.”
I gently scoop the frosting off her rosy lip with my finger.
She grabs my wrist and opens her mouth. In a rush she unconsciously sucks my finger into her warm, wet mouth.
I pull in a quick breath as I feel a gentle tap of her tongue on the tip of my finger. She is fucking hot. This preview of what she’d do to my cock sends floods of arousal to my groin, making my cock twitch with delight.
I swallow the strangled groan rising from my throat.
Eden slowly blinks.
A tremble waves over her as a buzz of energy flows between us.
Suddenly she catapults away from me, sitting upright on her heels, and my finger leaves her mouth with a pop.
Her eyes blaze with a cocktail of desire and shock.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” she looks down and says shyly.
I take a long deep breath.
I lean in slightly and tip her chin upward with my just-sucked finger, forcing our gaze.
“Do you feel this between us?” I motion to the space.
Softly she whispers, “What do you mean?”
“Please don’t deny it. You know I want you, Eden. And I think you want me too.”
Fumbling with the hem of her shirt between her fingers, she says, “I just want to help you with the fire.”
“Sure thing, Cupcake. Keep telling yourself that.”
“But I haven’t seen you properly in weeks. I’ve seen you around. You’ve been keeping your distance. You don’t want me.” She shakes her head.
Uh-huh. So she’s been waiting for me to make a move.
“I’ve given you time. Space. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not an inconsiderate dick. I see how your body reacts to me, Eden. I do know you want me.”
“You think you know me, but you don’t.”
“I want to get to know you. Part of me feels like I already do.”
“Is that so? Are you always this confident?”
I lean closer, our faces only inches apart. “I am. I know it will happen. I know what I want. And if you think it’s wet outside, Cupcake, I’ll show you what it’s really like to be wet. You’ll be more than soaked. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined us together. I see how you look at me.”
“How’s that?”
“Like you're famished and I’m a three course meal.”
She sucks in a breath. “Please stop.” Her lips twitch.
“Will you go out for dinner with me at the very least?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I reluctantly back away. “Keep denying yourself. But if that’s what you want.” I hold my hands up. No one has ever turned me down before. This girl is in another league.
“I do,” she whispers.
Not now. Maybe soon.
I rise to my feet and move across the room, adjusting my cock because, amen, she just sucked my finger.
Turning around, I now have a painfully perfect view of her curvy ass. She’s on all fours, focusing all her attention on lighting the fire for me.
What the fuck just happened? She wants me, I know she does. She’s denying herself.
I don’t know what surprises me more, her lack of awareness of me staring at her ample toned ass or the fact that there is not even a hint of panty line to be seen through her thin formfitting workout leggings. Is she commando?
I move over to the back wall so I’m standing further back. Shit, that’s made it worse. I can see everything now.
As she's leaning over, prodding the fire, her soggy wet tee has gone baggy at the front and is now gaping open at the hemline, dipping toward the floor. It allows me a flawless view straight through her thigh gap, over her lean flat stomach, and a sparkle of jewel glints from her belly button, like a beam of light guiding me to the precipice of her cleavage. She dips her head lower to adjust the open and close controls. Almost stretching, back arched, ass in the air, like a luxurious cat. Her tits dip lower, giving me full access to a see-through white mesh and lace bra. Holy hell balls.
“Give me strength.” I stuff my clenched hand into my mouth, biting my knuckles.
“You alright, man?” Luke's voice suddenly startles me.
Where the fuck did he come from?
“Shit, man, don’t creep up on me like that.”
“Enjoying the view?” he whispers.
“Fuck off. And you stop looking.”
Luke chuckles.
“Done.” Eden rises swiftly and turns herself around to face us.
She looks straight at me, then Luke.
Clearing her throat, she says, “Hi,” then waves at Luke cheerily. “I’m Eden and you must be Luke? I promise I’m not a stalker. It’s just Ella’s told me all about you. In fact, she never stops talking about you. And who else has ‘to die for aquamarine eyes’ like yours.” Eden rolls her eyes, clearly mocking her sister's words.
“Are those contacts?” She points.
“Nope, all real, babes,” he answers proudly, his arms folded across his body as he sways confidently back and forth, his legs spread wide.
“You’d better watch it; those eyes of yours have got our Ella all in a pickle. And your tats, too. Just don’t say I said anything.”
“Keep layering on the compliments.” Luke rubs his hands together.
Asshole.
“I should get going. You’ll be snuggly before you know it. Just as well you’re not here in wintertime. This is currently summertime in Scotland. You Florida boys are weaklings, I tell ya.” Eden smiles, her eyes sparkling.
That smile could light up the Eiffel Tower.
Interesting, she knows I’m from Florida. She’s looked me up.
“Well, we aren’t all penguins, like you.”
“Ha ha, hilarious, Mr. King. Well then, I’ll leave you to it. I still need to get my messages out of the car. Remember to add some wood in about fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks, Cupcake.”
“You’re welcome. You rescued me. I rescued you. We’re even. Are you into Bridgerton then? Is that your kink? It only really gets going in episode five though.” She laughs.
“Huh?” I ask in confusion.
She hitches her thumb toward the television where I seem to have stopped my Netflix menu, landing on Bridgerton. It’s been all over social media. I might just watch this.
“Good, huh?”
“Hell yeah. Might give you some tips, you know, for the wet weather you were promising.” Amusement glinting in her eyes.
Fucking spitfire.
She’s full of light and shade. One minute she’s reserved, then the next she’s teasing me.
“I’m sorry about the whole finger thing… Cheerio,” she blushes and whispers softly, passing me with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
“I’m never washing my finger again. See you later, Cupcake.”
I watch as she tips her head slightly downward and chuckles her fine ass out the door, waving over her shoulder as she exits.
Snick. I want to run after her and beg her to stay.
Silence.
“Uh-huh.”
Luke gives me a knowing look.
“Don’t say a thing.”
I sit down on the couch, pulling my hands through my wet hair.
“She’s hot, right? Like, really hot. And she just says the first thing that comes into her head.” I motion with my hands in the air.
She’s refreshing. And timid and shy. Then she’s cheeky and smart. She’s guarded, but I think she likes me. Fuck it, I know she likes me. What am I going to do?
I say, “She’s definitely not a one-night girl. She doesn’t give off that vibe at all. I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s all I’ve thought about since we found her that night. She’s driving me insane. God, that feels good to say it all out loud.”
I think I’m going crazy over a girl I hardly even know. She feels like my forever. Christ, I sound like a pussy.
Luke softly chuckles. “Man, have you got it bad. Are you getting all sappy and shit in your old age? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before. She’s gorgeous. I'll give you that. But you’re only here for a few weeks. If she isn’t a fly-by-night girl, then you should stay away from her and continue having sex with your hand,” Luke jokes.
“Ella seems different. She’s a more one-night-stand kind of girl. But Eden? I'm not so sure. Ella mentioned a few times Eden had a traumatic incident. Must have been around the same time as your win here, give or take. She’s never said what exactly.”
He’s right, but I can't help wanting her. I wonder what happened to her.
I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s cute and funny, feisty, sexy, and her body is fucking delectable. Clenching my jaw, I close my eyes. A low growl thunders through me. That Wallace girl has me in a spin.
“Weeeellll… I happen to know she’s off to The Vault tomorrow night.”
I look up, intrigued.
“How do you know?”
“Ella and I have been chatting on text. Don’t you say a word.” He points at me.
I flash the palms of my hands in a stop motion as a mocking smile leaves my lips. “It’s none of my business.”
“They are going out dancing tomorrow. Eden has a bucket list item to tick off, apparently.”
“That goddamn list. Do you know what’s on the list? Has Ella shown you? Am I on it?”
“So many questions. Calm the hell down. I’ve had a brief glimpse at it, and yeah, man, it’s pretty far out in places. You should ask Eden about it or even better, ask her to show you the complete list.”
“Nope, you’re going to get me that list. Text Ella now. And text the team,” I instruct, clapping my hands. “We’re going out tomorrow night. The Vault it is. Can you book a VIP table?”
“Already done, my man.”
Game on.
“What the hell are messages, did she say fingering, and should we watch Bridgerton?” Luke asks.
I can’t help but laugh out loud.