9. Scarlett
9
SCARLETT
Christian lifted me onto the counter, his mouth reclaiming mine, all hesitation gone.
Heat.
Need.
The desperate, aching want of him.
I arched into him as he trailed kisses down my throat, his hands skimming my waist, my hips, every inch of me on fire.
Clothes disappeared.
Hands roamed.
“You taste so damn good, Scarlett,” he whispered against my ear.
I moaned as he left a trail of burning kisses down my neck, the column of my throat.
He paid particular attention to each of my breasts. Christian closed his mouth over my left nipple and sucked.
I nearly lost it then and when he bit down to leave his bite mark, I groaned. Excitement hummed through my veins.
My pussy felt incredibly wet. He moved to the right nipple, lavishing it with the same attention.
I willingly parted my legs for him, eating to feel him inside me, claiming me in the most intimate way possible.
“Wait a moment,” he murmured, planting a soft kiss on my mouth.
Christian parted from me and grabbed a condom from the pocket of his pants.
I was so turned on, words left me and I could only nod but I liked that he came prepared, that he anticipated this.
He tore the packaging, slipped the condom on and resumed position, planting himself between my spread thighs.
I gripped his shoulders as he kissed me again and for a moment, it was just the two of us. Nothing mattered. Not the article or the frustrations I left behind in the city.
Christian guided his cock, thick and beautiful, into my waiting entrance. I gasped as he pushed into me, slowly and steadily until he was full sheathed inside me.
“You okay?” Christian asked.
“Yeah,” I whispered, voice a little harsh. “Move, Christian.”
He complied, knowing glint in his eyes, grin on his mouth. I leaned in close, capturing his lips with mine.
Christian pushed his tongue down my throat and I willingly sucked down on it. He moved to a steady rhythm, one that suited us both.
Soon enough, I found myself moving together with him.
Each time he entered me, it felt like a piece of my soul floated to his. A perfect fit.
He reduced us both to panting and needy animals, our bodies slicked with sweat. The next time he pushed inside me, I gasped.
Christian had found my sweet spot. He went for it over and over again, making sure to brush against my clit each time.
The pressure building inside me threatening to burst open and it finally did, when he pushed inside me one more time.
I cried out his name and saw stars. The room fell away from my line of sight. I desperately clung to him, catching my breath.
In a few strokes, Christian climaxed, fingers in my hair, his lips pressed against my throat. He pulled his dick away, resting his forehead against mine for a few moments.
“Wow,” I whispered.
I wasn’t a virgin and had been on a few dates but none of the men I’d been with had made my body sing like this.
“Yeah,” he said.
Eventually, we made our way upstairs, to the bedroom.
The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast warm shadows across the room, flickering against the wooden beams overhead.
Outside, the lake was still, the night air crisp and quiet, but inside, warmth cocooned me—his warmth.
I lay curled against Christian, my head resting on his bare chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns over his skin.
His heartbeat was steady beneath my palm, grounding me in a way I hadn't realized I needed.
We hadn't spoken much after. We hadn’t needed to.
But now, in the slow, sleepy haze of the aftermath, I found myself wishing time would stretch, that we could stay wrapped in this moment, untouched by the outside world.
I sighed, shifting just enough to press my cheek against his chest. "I wish we could stay here forever,” I told him.
Christian chuckled, his hand running up and down my spine, a slow, soothing motion. "Then we will."
I smiled, letting my eyes drift shut. "You say that like you have no responsibilities. Like you’re not the Christian Valen."
"Being Christian Valen has its perks," he murmured, his lips brushing the top of my head. "And right now, one of them is keeping you here as long as you want."
For a moment, I let myself imagine it.
Waking up to the sound of the lake, spending days hiking or doing absolutely nothing at all, cooking dinner together, falling asleep wrapped in his arms.
No press. No rumors. No people whispering about me in the industry, questioning if I was worthy.
But I wasn’t the type to hide.
I let out a small breath, curling my fingers against his chest.
"I don’t run, Christian," I said softly. "Eventually, I’ll have to face the music."
His hand stilled against my back.
"I know," he said after a moment. His voice was quiet, but firm, like he had no doubt. "That’s one of the things I love about you."
I swallowed hard.
He said it so easily. I lifted my head, meeting his gaze.
The way he was looking at me made my heart ache—like he saw right through me, like none of my defenses had ever really worked on him in the first place.
I didn’t say anything. I just held his gaze, taking in every sharp line and softened edge of his face.
Once everything settled—once the rumors stopped, once the industry found something else to talk about—where would that leave us?
I traced my fingers over his collarbone, biting my lip. "When this is all over… could you bring me here again?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
And immediately, doubt crept in.
Was I being too presumptuous?
Assuming that when the dust settled, we’d still be here, like this? That we would still be us?
Christian’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening around me.
In the next second, he rolled us, pinning me beneath him, his body pressing me into the mattress.
His lips crushed against mine, stealing the breath from my lungs, kissing me like he was trying to erase the doubt before it could take root.
Heat sparked, curling in my belly as I arched against him, my fingers threading through his hair.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were inches from mine, his voice low and rough.
"Sure," he murmured. "No problem."
A laugh caught in my throat, but it died the moment he kissed me again.
This time, it was slower.
The hum of the jet engines had faded into the background hours ago, but the warmth of Christian’s presence beside me lingered.
Our weekend at the lake had felt like something out of a dream—one I wasn’t ready to wake up from.
But as the city skyline came into view through the plane’s window, reality pressed in.
I stole a glance at Christian, who was reclined in his seat, scrolling through his phone.
His tie was loose, the top button of his crisp white shirt undone, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in the sight of him.
Relaxed. Effortlessly confident.
He must’ve felt my stare because he looked up, catching me in the act. A slow smirk curved his lips.
“Miss me already?”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes even as warmth crept up my neck. “You wish.”
He chuckled, reaching for my hand and bringing it to his lips. The simple gesture sent a ripple of heat through me.
Maybe I would miss him.
As the plane touched down, my phone buzzed.
A string of work emails, a missed call from my sous-chef, another from my supplier. The real world was waiting.
We disembarked in silence, his driver already waiting for us. He insisted on taking me home, and I let him.
The drive was quiet, comfortable, the city lights flickering past the tinted windows.
When we arrived at my building, Christian stepped out with me, walking me to the door of my apartment.
“I had a great time,” I admitted, biting my lip.
His eyes softened, fingers brushing my jaw. “Me too.”
I hesitated, part of me wanting to invite him in.
But then he kissed me, slow and lingering, and I knew if I let him through the door, I’d never let him leave.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze.
I nodded, suddenly unable to find words.
With one last look, he turned and left, disappearing into the waiting car.
I let out a breath, stepping inside my apartment. The silence was almost jarring after the weekend we’d spent together.
I leaned against the door, pressing my fingers to my lips, savoring the ghost of his kiss.
I could take my time unpacking, maybe take a long bath, and ease back into normal life?—
My phone rang, shrill and urgent.
I frowned, pulling it from my bag. A call from Amélie.
I answered immediately. “Hello?”
“Scarlett, thank God,” my manager, Renée, breathed into the phone. She sounded panicked. Really panicked.
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?” I demanded, already moving toward my bedroom to change.
“The shipment. It didn’t arrive.”
Cold dread tightened around my chest. “What do you mean it didn’t arrive? It was scheduled for this afternoon.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “But when I called the supplier, they said the order was canceled . ”
I stopped dead. “That’s impossible.”
“That’s what I said! But they were adamant. They claimed they received an official notice to cancel from us . ”
My mind reeled. That wasn’t a mistake. That was sabotage.
And I had a damn good guess it was the same person who smeared my reputation on Luxe Dining.
“Shit,” I hissed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Okay. We can fix this. We have backups in storage, right?”
“Not nearly enough for the event tomorrow,” Renée admitted. “I’ve been calling around, but—Scarlett, what do we do?”
I glanced at the clock. It was late, but not too late.
I could fix this.
I had to fix this.
Grabbing my keys, I headed for the door. “I’m on my way.”
I barely heard Renée’s relieved sigh before I hung up.
I stood there for a moment, pulse racing.
I had two choices.
I could handle this myself—prove that I could manage my own damn business without anyone’s help.
Or I could call Christian.
The thought of involving him made something tight coil in my chest.
This was my fight. My reputation on the line.
But Christian had power. Influence. If anyone could fix this with a single phone call, it was him.
I exhaled sharply, gripping my phone.
Outside, a car honked.
I had a decision to make.