Page 41 of House of Scarlett
That flush of hers starts somewhere under that washcloth, and with eagle-eyed precision, I watch it spread out to her collarbone, up her neck, and to her cheeks.
“Fuck me, ladybug, but you’re goddamned gorgeous.”
The grin disappears from her face, only to be replaced by an expression I can’t read. Slowly, her fingers flex, and it takes me a few seconds to realize what she’s doing—stepping out of the shower enclosure and onto the bathroom floor, without a grip on anything to keep her upright in case she falls.
“Wait, hold on—”
Her slip comes a moment later, but I’m already across the room, my arms out, ready to catch her before she can fall onto the perfectly polished marble floor.
Water soaks my clothes, but I don’t care, because I’ve got an armful of wet, naked, beautiful woman.
Her lungs heave with the scare as I pin her body to mine, trying to keep my mind off all the places where I’m touching her naked skin.
“You gotta be more careful, ladybug.” I speak my gruff words directly into her ear, and a shiver ripples through her.
She tilts her head until that gray gaze of hers collides with mine. “Are you sure? Because I think this worked out just fine.”
I can’t help it. I close the distance between our mouths and steal a kiss. On her indrawn breath, she gasps.
“Be careful what you start, Scarlett, because I’m always game to finish it. I’ll take a rain check on this one, though. And as soon as you’re healed ... you just let me know. I’ll cash that fucker in faster than you can blush head to toe.”
Her tongue darts out and swipes across her lower lip, which leads me right back in to steal another taste.
“But,goddamn, you’re sweet.”
“Only for you.”
Her whispered words slay me, but I have to pump the brakes, or we’re both going to be too far into something we can’t even think about right now.
Yeah, tell that to my dick. It’s way too on board already.
I carry her to the clear acrylic chair that has her bathrobe draped open over the back of it, and wrap the giant terrycloth sides around her, covering her up. Thankfully, it only takes her a moment before she shoves her hands through the armholes and has it tied up.
“Better?” she asks with that sassy smirk.
“Yeah. Better. Now you’re going back to bed. Time to pick up some takeout so you can get some rest.”
I reach down to lift her into my arms again, and this time, she doesn’t protest or squeak. She throws her arms around my neck without hesitation. Like they belong there.
Because they fucking do.
I was so stupid. What the fuck was I thinking, pushing away a gift like this? Old habits die hard, though, and when you’re not used to having anything beautiful in your life, you start to think you don’t deserve it. That it’s not for you.
And I don’t deserve her.I think we’re all clear on that.
But there have to be some other forces at play here, because why else would I get a second chance?
Doesn’t matter now, because I’m taking it.
* * *
Scarlett’s dinner is cleared away, and she’s dozing in front of Chip and Joanna Gaines. I even set a sleep timer on the remote so the TV will shut off in thirty minutes.
With one last look at Scarlett’s beautiful—and worn-out—face, I slip out of her room and make my way to the kitchen where my duffel bag still waits on the bottom of the rolling cart Liz brought up.
I grab it and then force myself to find the guest room and adjoining bath to take a shower. It’s been a long fucking day, and yet all I want to do is park myself outside Scarlett’s door so I’m close to her if she needs anything. But that’s not smart either, because the memory of the pale pink of Scarlett’s nipples, barely covered by the edge of that damn washcloth, comes rushing back into my brain and sends all the blood in my head to my dick.
I pretended I didn’t see them when I was flipping the edges of her robe closed, but I saw them. Jesus Christ, did I see them. The visual is burned into my brain, and I may never get it out.
