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I wanted to know what it would be like if he dropped the hardass-act and just gave into the tension I could’ve fooled myself into believing was actually there. That focus, that drive, the control. I wanted it. I wanted him to touch me, to lose that control with me.

I slid a hand up my shirt and gripped one of my breasts, squeezing it tightly as I continued playing with myself. I imagined Nate between my legs, using those long, deft fingers I’d stared at while he traced those blueprints. A strangled moan tore itself from my throat.

“Come on,” I whispered, my toes curling on the bed.

I was almost there. I could see his eyes, dark and heated and hungry. I tweaked my nipple and bit my lip against the resulting groan. I thought he’d be rough. Maybe possessive, he’d probably move his fingers faster so that he could force my orgasm before I had a chance to—

I came with a spasm, my breath ragged as my chest heaved up. I was panting, my mind completely blank for a few glorious moments as the rest of my body rippled with pleasure. I had never experienced an O that big from masturbating by myself. And I came thinking about Nate. Well, and Ethan. And Deacon.

If there was a female equivalent to post-nut clarity, I thought this would be it. I sat up with a sigh, heading over to my somewhat functional en suite to clean my hands just as a knock sounded at the door. I dried off, then quickly changed my clothes and underwear, shouting a quick, “Gimme a minute.”

When I was sure I was decent, albeit still flushed and breathing a little unevenly, I finally opened the door.

It was Deacon. He leaned against the doorframe, his aura completely different from a mere half an hour ago when he looked at me like he was pissed off with my very existence. He didn’t look like that now.

He had a heavy tool belt slung low on his hips and a slow, knowing smirk playing across his lips as his eyes traced the collar of my shirt. “You weren’t wearing that earlier, were you? Take a shower already?”

“That’s not really any of your business, is it?” I asked defensively, crossing my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Deacon?”

His gaze lingered on me long enough for me to shift uncomfortably. “You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

I opened my mouth to fend him off with more snark, but no words formed. Because a single, horrifying realization started ringing through my head like a gong.

He knew what I looked like when I climaxed.

I cleared my throat and gave him an impatient glare. “Deacon, if you’re here to tell me anything important than just—”

“The outdoor shower is finally hooked up. Hot water’s running and the guys are busy setting up the structural headers on the front porch for the next hour.” His eyes darkened, the pupils dilating with an emotion that was definitely not anger. I guess I wasn’t the only one weirdly affected by our last confrontation. “You should go test it out before they finish.”

27

Ava

The outdoor shower looked unrecognizable from the last time it attacked me. While it still lacked a roof—leaving the open afternoon sky visible overhead—the structural bracing was finally solid and the weathered wood had been reinforced. The outdated gate valve that I’d fought with last time was gone. In its place, the exposed copper inlet pipes had been polished to a bright shine, feeding into a massive, matte-black rainfall showerhead mounted high on the timber wall.

The asshole had done a really good job. Not that I was ever going to admit that.

“Well?” Deacon asked as he followed me into the small space and closed the slotted cedar door behind him. “I told you I’d fix those finishes for you,” he added. I gave him a wry look.

“I thought you said I was supposed to test it out for myself. Is there a reason you’re still in here with me?” I challenged.

Deacon’s mouth twitched. He leaned back against the door, folding his massive arms across his massive chest. “That’s not a very nice way to say thank you.”

“You know, you really fit in the PNW,” I said breezily. I reached out and turned on the faucet, watching the water cascade overhead for a few moments before I finished my comment. “Your mood is just as volatile as the weather here.”

He grinned, but the smile quickly melted off his face when I reached down and lifted my cotton shirt over my head. I don’t think he seriously thought I’d call his bluff. But I wasn’t going to allow myself to be cowed or shamed by Deacon, of all people.

I didn’t know what the hell was going on with our relationship. One minute we were sharing what I thought was a special moment in that Monarch cedar, and the next he was treating me like shit without bothering to explain where it was coming from. But I didn’t owe him anything except a taste of his own medicine. He’d left me heated after our argument earlier. And I knew that look he gave me in my room was about more than just light teasing. I was going to get my lick back.

I tossed my shirt off to the side, not missing a beat as I unbuttoned my pants and slid those off, too. I was standing in front of him in nothing but my bra and panties. Deacon’s eyes were fixed on me, his body rigid. But he didn’t make a move towards me. Instead, he appeared to be picking up the gauntlet I’d just thrown down.

But as my eyes drifted lower down his body, I noticed with relish that the temperature of the shower wasn’t the only thing rising.

“I ripped out that old industrial valve and ran new lines from the main tank. Got the heater working, too. It’s got a solid forty minutes of high pressure before it even thinks about going cold,” he continued. I could hear the strain beneath the forced casual tone of his voice.

“Is that so?” I asked airily, deliberately tilting my head at him. I reached behind me and unclipped my bra. Deacon’s throat bobbed, but that was his only concession to his arousal.

“Yeah,” he said, a light rasp coating his words now.