Page 94 of Fighting for Scarlett

“Then I'm here to support you every step of the way.”

The words she’d hoped to hear. It might feel like it was too soon to say the words I love you, but it didn't change the fact that she knew deep down in her heart that it was true. For some crazy reason, she’d loved this man from the second their eyes met at the Halloween party at the bar three months ago.

It might not have been an easy road getting here, but standing in his kitchen, in the arms of a man who was offering her everything she’d ever wanted, Scarlett knew she was on the cusp of having the family she’d always craved.

January 20th

6:44 P.M.

“That was delicious,” Scarlett announced setting down her spoon.

“It was not,” Tate said plainly. Somehow, she had managed to eat her entire bowl of soup, and three slices of the bread he’d made.

Well, attempted to make, might be more realistic.

Because the food was a disaster.

Flat out.

No other way to put it.

“Was so,” she countered.

“Sweetheart, that was not food and we both know it. Somehow, I managed to burn the bread on the outside, yet it’s not even cooked properly inside. And the soup … how does someone even ruin vegetable soup? I mean, it’s only cutting up vegetables and boiling them in broth. I have no idea why mine manages to taste so awful.”

“I enjoyed it,” Scarlett said stubbornly.

And that right there was why he was falling in love with her.

There was no way she could have actually enjoyed the food itself. What she enjoyed was that someone had cared enough to try to take care of her. To prepare a meal just for her, with no other motivation than love.

“Thank you,” he told her sincerely.

Her brow did that adorable scrunching thing it did when she was confused. “For what? You're the one who cooked dinner for us.”

“For eating it, and actually enjoying it. Come here, sweetheart.” Pushing back from the table, Tate patted his lap, already growing hard as Scarlett’s tongue peeped out and ran along her bottom lip as she rounded the table and straddled his thighs.

Didn't seem to matter how many times he touched this woman, it was never enough. He was completely and utterly addicted to her. There was just something about her willingness to keep going after what she wanted, continuing to stand up every time she got knocked down, that drew him in.

It showed him what life could be like if only he was willing to give it a chance.

And he was willing.

More than willing.

Anything to keep Scarlett in his life.

Because giving her up and not having her was worse than the possibility of accepting something amazing between them and losing her along the way.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he asked as he kissed the pulse point in her neck where her pulse was fluttering wildly.

“You,” she whispered, tilting her head to the side to give him better access to her neck.

Accepting the invitation, he kissed his way up the slender column just like he had when he’d been teasing her earlier, only this time, he didn't stop when his lips reached the corner of her mouth. His hands lifted, fingers tangling in her hair as he framed her face, and then his mouth was on hers, pouring every ounce of tenderness, admiration, respect, and love he felt for her into that kiss.

When they both needed to draw in air, he pulled back, staying close enough that there were mere millimeters between them. “Tonight is for you, baby. For you to take what you want, what you need, I'm all yours. You want sex, you’ve got it. You're not ready for that yet, then we can just fool around a little. We can stay here, move to the living room, go upstairs to the bedroom or the bathroom. You tell me what you want, and you got it.”

“I'm not scared of sex because of what almost happened,” Scarlett told him. “Well, maybe that’s not quite true, but I'm not scared of sex with you. I'm not scared of anything with you. When you touch me it’s all I can think about. It makes me feel special, wanted, and desired.”

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