12. Violet

Chapter 12

Violet

I stand frozen at Sawyer’s bedroom door, a shopping bag hanging limply from my grip.

Oh my god .

I didn’t think anyone was here when I got back to the house, but then I heard a voice upstairs. When I got to the top of the steps, I heard Sawyer curse in a voice that sounded strained, and I thought maybe he had hurt himself. The door wasn’t completely shut, and I thought I heard him say my name, so I didn’t even stop to think before I barged inside.

But clearly, the sound I heard wasn’t him grunting in pain .

“Shit,” I whisper, my jaw falling open as a rush of heat floods my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to?—”

For some unaccountable reason, my gaze drops downward, and I almost swallow my tongue in shock as I get a glimpse of his cock. He’s not just huge, he’s also got a bunch of piercings. I can only see a few of them because the rest are hidden by his hand, but it seems like they go all the way up the underside.

“I—I—sorry,” I stammer, yanking my gaze back up to his face.

He’s staring at me, his jaw tight and his nostrils flared, and it suddenly strikes me that even though I’ve apologized twice, I’m still standing here in the doorframe of his room, basically watching him jerk off.

“I’ll just, uh, go,” I say in a rush.

I whirl around and practically sprint down the stairs, my heart racing a mile a minute as I reach the first floor. I drop the bag I was carrying next to the couch, freeing up my hands so that I can press my palms to my cheeks in a futile attempt to tame what I know must be a raging blush.

I cannot believe I just did that. I walked in on Sawyer jerking off .

My heart, which is already thudding heavily, picks up its pace even more when I hear footsteps on the stairs and realize that he’s coming down after me.

I turn to face him, my expression cycling through several options in quick succession before I finally settle on something that’s supposed to look casual but probably doesn’t.

Sawyer reaches the bottom step, and his gaze finds mine. His hair is a bit disheveled, and the slight bulge at the front of his pants—coupled with how fast he made it down here after I left his room—makes me certain that he didn’t finish what he started up there before coming after me.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice a bit hoarse. “That never should’ve happened. I thought the door was closed, and I didn’t know you’d be back so soon. I never?—”

“It’s okay.”

I shake my head, my stomach flipping over itself as a memory of his pierced cock springs into my mind unbidden. How many were there? At least eight, I’m guessing.

He takes a step toward me, huffing a humorless laugh. “No it’s not. Are you fucking kidding me? That was so inappropriate.”

He looks truly distressed, his jaw tight and his shoulders tense, and I wonder if he thinks I’m mad or upset or something. I’m not though. I was startled by the sight of him like that, but honestly, it’s not his fault at all. If anything, it’s mine.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I blurt, cutting him off when he starts to speak again. “I mean, it’s your house, right? And I’m the one who walked in on you. I should’ve announced myself or texted that I was on my way back or something.”

Sawyer’s jaw works, a muscle in his cheek popping. He doesn’t look reassured by my words, and I can see the self-recrimination written all over his face. I hate the idea of him blaming himself for the fact that I , a guest in his house, didn’t knock on his bedroom door before barging in. And even more than that, I hate the idea of seeing this chagrined, tight expression on his face every time he looks at me from now on.

So rather than trying to convince him that he has no reason to feel guilty, I opt for a different tactic.

Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, I hold his gaze and give him a lopsided grin. “Hey, at least now we’re even. Tit for tat, right? Or I guess, tit for dick.”

Sawyer’s eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead, a startled, choked sound escaping him.

Then he belts out a laugh.

I grin, the butterflies in my stomach calming down as the tension dissipates a bit. He shakes his head, his laughter slowly turning into a low chuckle as he rubs his fingers across his temple.

“So you’re saying that because I walked in on you naked once, and you’ve now walked in on me, uh… doing that , we’re even?”

I shrug again. “Sure. Why not? I mean, we’re both grown adults. We’ve both seen people naked before. And both of the times we walked in on each other were complete accidents. So, no harm, no foul. Right?”

His lips twitch as if he’s holding back a smile, and he blows out a breath before he nods. “I suppose you’re right. As long as you’re sure.”

“Positive.” I nod emphatically.

“So we’re good?”

He dips his chin a little, studying my face as if searching for any sign that I’ve been permanently traumatized by the sight of him jerking off.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” I lift a brow at him. “I have seen a dick before, you know. It’s not that exciting.”

Something flashes in his eyes, and my face heats as I realize I basically just admitted that I looked at his dick. I half expect him to call me out on it, but instead, he clears his throat and nods. Silence falls between us for a moment, and just as I’m starting to worry that the awkwardness will return, Sawyer offers me a small smile and jerks his head toward the kitchen.

“Are you hungry? I could use something to eat, and the least I can do is make you some food.”

I grin, giving him a look that suggests he should already know the answer to that. “I never say no to food.”

Looking a bit relieved, he heads into the kitchen, and I trail after him.

Leaning against the island, I watch him assemble ingredients for a couple of sandwiches, trying not to pay too much attention to his hands as he pulls several slices of bread out of a bag. He has really good hands, big and strong, with long fingers and a few veins running up his forearms. I’ve always had a thing for hands, and now that I’ve seen one of his wrapped around his cock, it’s hard to get that image out of my mind.

After a few minutes, Sawyer glances my way, and I realize that things have gotten quiet between us as I’ve been trying—and probably failing—not to stare.

My stomach flutters all over again, and I flail around for something to say. Unfortunately, the first thing that comes to mind is the question that’s been bouncing around in my brain ever since I saw him upstairs.

“How many piercings do you have?” I blurt.

Sawyer freezes for a second, and I swear the temperature in the kitchen rises by a few degrees. Then he laughs ruefully, returning to his sandwich making. “Uh, there are ten total.”

“Holy shit,” I whisper, my jaw falling open. Despite the slight awkwardness of the moment, I can’t contain my curiosity. I lean forward a bit, lowering my voice. “How is that even possible? Didn’t it hurt like hell?”

He shrugs, cutting several slices from a block of cheddar. “It didn’t feel great, and the recovery really sucked. I guess those are the types of things you do when you’re young, impulsive, and have more money than you know what to do with.”

I rest my elbows on the counter, my brows furrowing. “What on earth made you decide to do something like that?”

“Like I said, I was young and dumb. One of my college buddies dared me one night when we were out drinking, and the next morning… well, you saw the result.”

“You did that on a dare ?” I ask, unable to believe my ears. “I mean, okay, jumping off a roof into a pool or something, I’d expect from dumb, young guys, but getting your whole cock pierced? He must have been one hell of a friend.”

Sawyer chuckles, seeming much more at ease than he did when he first came down the stairs, despite the rather detailed conversation we’re having about his cock. “Well, we aren’t friends anymore, so I’d say not really.”

“I don’t think I’d be friends with him after that either, so I get you.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, making me grin.

The kitchen falls silent for a moment as I watch him expertly cut a tomato into thin, even slices. Our conversation in the living room on my second night in the house pops into my head as I remember how he told me he hasn’t really dated at all since his divorce years ago.

What I walked in on upstairs was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, but there’s something about the thought of it that makes me sad too. Because Sawyer is an amazing guy in the prime of his life, and he deserves more than a quick jerk off in his bedroom while his kid is at a birthday party.

“Do you ever miss it?” I ask suddenly.

He shoots me a quizzical look. “Miss what?”

“Dating. Sex. That sense of connection. I mean, you can obviously take care of your…” I flush a little. “Your needs yourself, but human interaction is kind of an essential part of life for most people.”

Sawyer pauses, setting down his knife. He stares down at the neatly sliced tomato in front of him, then nods slowly. “Yeah. I guess… sometimes I do.”

His voice is low, deep and gravelly, and it tugs at something in my chest. I have the strangest urge to reach out and rest my hand on his, just to feel that connection I just talked about. To remind him—or maybe to remind myself—that none of us are as alone as we sometimes feel.

But I don’t do any of that. Instead, I rap my knuckles on the countertop of the kitchen island thoughtfully, chewing on my lower lip.

“You know what? I’m going to help you get back out there.”

He shoots me a sideways look. “What?”

“I’m gonna help you date again.” I arch a meaningful brow at him, glancing down and then back up. “Seriously, you need to get that player back on the ice.”

He snorts in amusement at my choice of words. Then he shakes his head. “It’s nice of you to offer, but you really don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to. Consider it my way of repaying you for helping me out with this job.”

“But I’m paying you. You don’t have to repay me for anything, that’s not how employment works. And anyway, you already told me that you don’t date and have no interest in finding anyone. So, no offense, but how exactly are you gonna help me do it?”

I grimace. “Ouch. Okay, you’ve got a point there. But hear me out: what if we did it together?”

Sawyer’s head jerks back in surprise. “You mean, like, the two of us dating?”

My stomach flips over itself, and I shake my head quickly. “No, no! Not like that. I meant if we both tried dating other people together. Like, at the same time. It’s always easier to do something hard when you have someone doing it with you, right?”

He continues to stare at me, his expression inscrutable, until I sit down on one of the stools at the marble-topped island and pat the empty one next to me. “Come on. Sit down. We’ll start right now.”

“Start what?” he asks, although he does pause his sandwich prep to stride around the island and sit cautiously beside me.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and hold it up to him.

“Making our profiles.”

Sawyer makes a sour face. “You mean for dating apps? I haven’t ever used one of those damn things, and I’m a divorced single dad who’s?—”

“—also a super famous hockey player, and an amazing father. Besides, you never know what kind of people you might meet until you try.”

I give him a pointed look, then swipe to unlock my phone. I already have a few of the apps downloaded, but they’re stuck in a folder I never look at because I gave up using them forever ago—before my life in Chicago blew up.

I tap to open the most popular app and immediately get a notice that my account’s been deleted due to inactivity. I laugh and flash the screen at Sawyer.

“Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it? Looks like I have to start over fresh whether I want to or not. So, what do you say? You make a profile for me, then I’ll make one for you. I’m game if you are.”

I tap the Create New Account button and hold the phone out to him, but Sawyer just stares at the cursor flashing on the screen.

“This is crazy,” he murmurs as he finally takes the phone from me and starts pecking at the keyboard to enter my name.

“Just crazy enough to work,” I say with a smile, resting my elbows on the smooth surface of the island.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he grumbles, but his fingers don’t stop typing.