Chapter 29 Scarlett #2
I slide my hand in his, and he pulls me into his chest. Before I can protest, he leans down and whispers, “I had a dream last night.” He nips at my ear before softly dragging his lips down my neck. “It started a lot like this.”
“Yeah?” I lean back, giving him more space to cover, “Then what happened?”
His hands slide down my sides, stopping to squeeze my hips before moving lower to the backs of my thighs. He picks me up, ignoring my surprised yelp as he walks us into the horse corral. “I’d rather show you,” he groans as he slides me down the front of his body.
When my feet are solidly on the ground, he holds up the rope he had been jumping with, “Do you trust me?” His eyes hold an intensity I’ve never seen before, desire swirling through them as he licks his lips.
I nod.
“Words, Scarlett. If it’s not an enthusiastic yes, I’ll walk back in the house. It’s either hell yeah or nothing at all.” I see the desperation in his eyes, the one who wants to be loved. The one begging for someone to stay, the one begging me to stay.
“There’s no one I trust more than you, Goldie.” With those few words, his hand lands on the side of my neck, and his lips meet mine. It’s slow and searching, until it’s not. His tongue slides against the seam of my mouth, I open, and his tongue presses against mine.
His hand moves to collar my throat at the same time his teeth trap my bottom lip between them.
“On your back,” he mumbles as he kisses the spot his teeth had just held captive.
I lie in the dirt, the roughness a stark contrast to the silkiness of my night shorts.
“Grab the post.” I do without a second thought.
He drops to his knees, straddling my hips as he leans in and kisses me again.
“You have no idea how stunning you are when you obey, Lettie Girl.” My thighs squeeze together at his words.
The exchange in power dynamics is something I love about our relationship.
He’s not in control all the time. When I want to be, he gladly hands it over.
But I can’t deny there’s something so polarizing about him when he’s like this. All rough and dominant, knowing exactly what he wants, and taking it without apology. My back arches as his nose runs up my neck, “Let me know if this is too tight,” he whispers.
I start to ask what he’s talking about when I feel the roughness of the rope slide around my wrists. I stiffen. For a second, I start to panic, but he doesn’t miss a beat. “Say the word, and I’ll untie you. You aren’t trapped. No and stop are both complete sentences.”
Holy. Shit.
“Let me take care of you like I did in my dream.” He says as he brings one hand to rest on my ribs under my shirt. “Please, baby.”
And just like that, I’m a goner. “Show me,” I say as my voice shakes. Not from fear, from pure desire. There has never been anyone on the planet who makes me feel this way. This has never felt good with anyone else.
This is love. Raw and real, I feel it in every movement he makes against me. Every swipe of his tongue against my body, every pass of his fingers as he runs his hands up and down my sides. Every sound he lets free as he comes undone for me, just as I do for him.
I gasp as his tongue trails up my stomach, “You’re gorgeous all tied up for me,” he groans, “I need you.”
I arch into him as he rubs his beard against my neck while his hand travels south. “You have me,” I say, but the words die in my throat when his lips meet my hip.
He takes what he needs without apology, right here in the dirt.
I can’t tell you where I end, and he begins.
I feel light, like I’m looking down at us from outside my body.
The bite of the rope mixed with the random nips of his teeth, I’ll gladly walk around with rope for the rest of my life if it ends like this.
I keep replaying the way he looks at me, like he’s seeing me for the first time, but also seeing every version of me there’s ever been.
The girl who punched bullies for him, who cried because she thought she was too broken to love, the one who thought she wasn’t worthy of having anything good in life.
But he chooses me anyway. He’s always chosen me.
“God,” he breathes against my neck as we both lie in breathless heaps on the ground. “I love you,” he says, kissing my nose. “I love you so much.”
The rush of blood that comes back to my arms as he unties my wrists tingles, but he doesn’t leave me there long. Kissing the inside of both wrists, he carries me into the house, straight to the shower, where he turns it on the hottest it’ll go before stepping us both in.
His fingers scrub across my scalp, working shampoo into my hair. I groan, “You’re right. That does feel nice,” I lean back into his hands as he washes the suds from my curls.
“Thank you,” he responds as he pumps conditioner into his palm. “For letting me take care of you, even if just for a second. It soothes me.”
I knew that much. He’s always been that way. I chalked it up to him overcompensating when we were kids, but now I see it’s so much bigger. If he’s needed, he thinks people won't leave. I can’t imagine how many times that’s burned him in his lifetime. But it won’t here, not with me.
“I love you.” Turning in his hold, I press a kiss to the scar slicing through his eyebrow. “You and me forever, Goldie.”
He smiles brightly, “Yeah, you and me forever, Lettie Girl.”
After we’ve rid ourselves of all the dirt, he carries me into the kitchen, where he’s promised me breakfast burritos. But our lips might as well be glued together at this point.
“Jesus Christ!” A voice cuts through the room, followed by the smacking of what sounds like papers on the counter.
Our heads snap toward the voice to find Miller with his hands covering his eyes. Lucas sets me down with a booming laugh. “Sorry, Miller. Didn’t know you’d be here.”
The old man scoffs, “Yeah, that much is freakin’ clear.” He drops his hands, and my heart drops right along with it at the look on his face. “We gotta talk.”
He picks up the papers and turns them around so we can see them. Lucas rushes to him, his face paling as he reads what’s written across the top. “Lettie.” He says, fear creeping into his voice.
“Miller, where did these come from?” His voice shakes as he takes the very large stack of papers from Miller’s hand.
“I… ” His sun-weathered hand pushes through his short, brown hair as he blows out a breath. “This is what I called you about.” He mutters, eyes trained on Lucas flipping through the papers, but then they drop from his hand like he’d been burned.
He stares at the floor, jaw tight, before silently walking back down the hall.
I pick them up, flipping through them to see what could have set him off.
It doesn’t take long. After a few pages of detailed failures on behalf of Arias Corp, there’s a picture.
Not just a picture, a picture of my father standing next to Lucas’s father.
My dad is smiling, but Lucas’s dad is sporting a frown the size of Texas.
What in the world? I set the papers on the counter as I rapidly flip through them, my hand flying to my mouth when I realize I've hit the gold mine. My father’s signature on a freakin napkin contract with a local law enforcement agency and a local news station, a bribe to cover up an explosion he had on one of the rigs.
It gets worse the further I get into the document. This is the most detailed report I’ve ever seen. One that could have only been done by someone on the inside. “Miller, this is what the asshole is hiding.”
My hands are sweating as I turn the page one more time.
This time, my vision swims. The number of people who have died on my father’s watch.
Contracts that had been drawn up, just to be nullified on the back end by my father, cutting corners and lowering costs without anyone knowing.
Shady business deal after shady business deal.
My stomach sours with the thought that he could still be doing this. He could be doing this to the contracts I’ve made. Holy shit, I was just a pawn in his game. There are over two thousand people on this list. And it stopped in the year... No.
“Lucas!” I yell, running to find him. He’s sitting on the bed we spent so much time in, head in his hands, swaying back and forth. “Lucas, I know you’re upset. But I need to know something.”
He looks up at me with bloodshot eyes, lifeless and hollow. I hate that I have to ask this, but if his answer is what I think it is, I have the freaking key. “What year did your dad die?”
“2005, why?”
“Jesus take the wheel!” I yell, my hands flying through the air as I start to pace the room. Miller fills the doorway as he watches the two of us.
“Lettie, slow down,” Lucas says, his hands finding my shoulder as he pushes me down onto the bed. “What’s going on? I saw that picture, and I lost it, I…” His head shakes. “Just give it to me.”
I hold up the papers, “I’m almost positive your dad was working against my dad. There are files in here that no one would have access to unless they were on the inside.” I pause, “I didn’t even have access to this.”
Flipping through the papers, I hold up the last one I’d read. “More than two thousand deaths are on my father's hands. He’s bought off law enforcement, news stations, the whole nine to keep this quiet. There are more than a decade of these reports, but they stop in 2005.”
“When my dad died,” he states, and I nod.
Lucas points at the papers. “Who would have had access to that? My dad’s been dead for twenty years, why hold on to it that long?”
“I don’t know,” I way, my voice barely above a whisper. “But we’re going to find out.”