Chapter 15 Scarlett
scarlett
Papi: Ready to stop playing stupid games, now? I can always push harder.
The text feels like it weighs a metric ton. My father is far from an upstanding citizen, but I'm unsure if his timing is coincidental or if he has something to do with Lucas’ mom’s death.
My leg bounces restlessly the entire drive back to the ranch.
I’m sure my lip will have teeth-shaped cuts when I finally stop chewing on it.
But I don’t know what to do with this. Do I show it to Lucas?
Would that make things worse? Would it throw a monkey wrench into the progress we’ve made over the past week?
“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly. His arm stretches across the car, freeing my lip, eyes bouncing between me and the road.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” I whisper. “I’m not what most would consider ‘relationship material’, I don’t know how to ask for help. I don’t know how to let someone walk beside me.”
His fingers brush against my jaw, trailing over my collarbone until his hand rests against the back of my neck, “I’m not just someone, though, am I?” He smiles, eyes still trained on the road. “You don’t give me enough credit, Lettie Girl.”
“Who said I was talking about you?” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the window, turning my body to face him.
His hand tightens around my nape as he pulls through the front gate, accelerating once we get to the straightaway that leads to my house.
There’s no hesitation when he throws the car in park and jumps out, rounding the hood, his heated eyes sear into mine the whole time.
He pulls my door open, and even though I knew it was coming, I still yelp.
He unbuckles my seatbelt before pulling me from the car, and throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.
“Lucas!” I squeal through a fit of laughter.
He doesn’t stop once we get inside. He takes me straight to the room he used to stay in.
Slowly laying me back on the bed, he frames my head with his arms, heavy, half-lidded eyes pinning me in place.
His pupils dilate, erasing most of the hazel as his gaze falls to my lips.
The air thickens between us until it almost feels like a touch.
A touch I’ve been dreaming about since I was fourteen.
“I need you to hear me when I say, there is no life without you in it. You leave me in this one, I’ll find you in the next.
You run, I’ll chase. Until you tell me you don’t want this, I’ll be here, fighting for you.
Just like I promised. But don’t you dare play with me about some other man, I’m a possessive asshole. ”
His nose trails up my neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake, “So, tell me, Lettie.” He rasps against the shell of my ear. “What’s it going to be? We gonna keep playing pretend? You gonna make me chase you? Or can I finally kiss you like I’ve been dreaming of for twelve years now?”
My heart screams yes, begs me to let him kiss me. Put us both out of our misery, but he just buried his mom. “You sure this is the time to do this? I mean, are you thinking clearly?”
He freezes, pushing back to look me in the eyes, “Like I said, if you don’t want this, tell me. Because there’s no chance that I don’t.” My eyes flick away for a split second, but that was all it took for him to feel rejected.
A flash of hurt crosses his face before he’s standing up.
A soft, uneven laugh fills the room as if he’s trying to disguise his hurt.
Before he can step back, I grab the hem of his shirt and pull him back to me.
“No, that isn’t what I was saying. I just don’t want to be an escape from the pain that you're feeling. I want you to kiss me because it feels like you’d die if you didn’t. ”
“It’s felt that way for twelve years, Scarlett.”
That’s all I needed, the confirmation that this isn’t a heat of the moment decision. That he’s wanted me the same way I’ve wanted him all this time. I slide my hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck before pulling him down on top of me. “Then kiss me, Goldie,” I whisper
He lowers himself until his knees are on the floor, his upper body covering mine completely.
“Yes, ma’am.” He mumbles before closing the remaining distance.
As if we were connected by an invisible string, the second his lips meet mine, it flares to life, filling me with enough heat to start a wildfire.
His lips are firm but soft as they press against my own.
His hands bracket my hips, squeezing once before they begin to travel up my sides.
His head tilts, lips slanting over mine in a way that covers more of them at once.
Heat pools in my stomach at the heady mix of his fingers brushing against my ribs and the warmth of his tongue as it drags across the seam of my lips.
My back instinctively arches into him as I let out a breathy gasp.
His tongue meets my own. They immediately begin to wrestle for dominance.
But when his hands finally make it to the sides of my neck, his thumb pulls at my chin, holding me in place as he continues to kiss me with the kind of passion I only thought existed in movies.
“Lettie.” He growls against me as I trap his bottom lip between my teeth. My eyes fly open to meet his. Something raw and borderline feral burns in them. I can’t deny how powerful that makes me feel. Like me, making him come unglued is my ultimate superpower.
I smile, eyes fluttering closed as I lick against it before I release him. He grabs me by the hips and moves me further up the bed until he’s straddling my hips. “I’m a starving man for you, Scarlett. Don’t push me.”
I watch with rapt attention as he licks his lips, picking up the mix of us, eyes never straying from mine.
I’ve never been looked at this way before, not even when we were kids.
Like I’m both the answer to all his prayers and his eternal damnation, all in the same breath.
He leans down again, interlacing our fingers before bringing them above my head.
“This is better than I remember it being,” I murmur against his lips.
I feel them pull into a smile as they press back into my own. “You saying I’m a good kisser, Lettie Girl?”
“Mhhh.” I rock my hips up into him. “The best there ever was.”
He chuckles, rolling off to the side, only laughing harder when I whine.
He pulls the corner of the blanket and rolls us together, wrapping us in our own little cocoon.
His arms wrap around my waist, tucking me into him.
My head fits perfectly under his chin. Little pricks of discomfort start to settle in my chest, afraid I may have pushed him too far.
“You don’t want to keep going?” I ask quietly.
He groans, chest vibrating against me. “I’d love nothing more, but you’re right. While I’m ready to kiss you every day of my life, I’m not ready for anything else. Especially not today, I don’t want our first time together to be tainted by the weight of burying my mom.”
Relief flows through me, and while I agree, I can’t help but push his buttons a bit. I lean back, giving him my best bedroom eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, Lettie Girl.” He says, voice gravelly and oh so hot.
My lashes flutter in faux innocence, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips, “Whatever do you mean?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle, a laugh brewing in him, soft until it cuts through the room. “I knew my girl was still in there somewhere.” He tightens his grip, his thumbs brushing against the exposed skin on my back.
His girl, the last time he said it, it felt like a trap. Like it was a cage he was trying to throw me in, but now, it doesn’t sound so scary. “I’m… trying.”
His gaze held mine with a quiet longing, as if he wanted to say something, but was afraid it’d be the thing that would make me push him away.
“Who told you that you had to be any other way?” He finally whispers, eyes bouncing between my one.
The backs of his fingers trail across my cheek, a feather light touch as he tucks a piece of fallen hair behind my ear.
If you had asked me how today would have ended, I certainly wouldn’t have said in the room we spent so much time in as kids, talking about my past. But if he needs a distraction, I’ll give it to him.
“My childhood was a lot different back home. I couldn’t be who I was here. I had an image to maintain.”
An age-old fear creeps up before I can stop it, the familiar urge to deflect, throw up the wall that’s kept me safe for years.
The one that suppresses my voice until it comes out sounding an awful lot like my father’s.
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, hoping he won’t think the same things my parents did. Too loud. Too emotional. Too much.
No, Scarlett. You said no more. I tell myself there’s nothing to fear. Not with him. “After Nana died, everything changed. My dad told me the ranch had been sold, and he turned into a money and power hungry man. It was like Nana was the chain that kept the monster at bay.”
I look up at him, expecting to see doubt, or worse, pity.
But neither of those things are what’s staring back at me.
His eyes hold the kind of warmth that I used to only see in Nana.
The kind that tells you there’s no judgment, that there simply isn’t anything that could make him think less of me.
Not only that, but he isn’t interrupting me.
He isn’t asking “who cares?” or “Why are you being so emotional?” He’s holding space, letting me get out what I need to.
He’s listening to understand, not to respond.
And I can’t tell you the last time I’ve had someone actually listen to me.