Page 107 of Wildcat
She nuzzles into my chest, and I close my arms around her and breathe her in. Damn, it feels good to be home and with her.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur into the top of her head. I shouldn’t have lost my shit. I don’t regret hitting the fucker, but I wish it’d been in a dark alley, and she hadn’t seen it.
“Don’t be. It’s all my fault.” Her voice is a whisper spoken into the nape of my neck. “Are you in a lot of trouble?”
“Nah. He didn’t press charges.”
She looks up at me. “Why?”
I’m silent, and she adds, “You paid him.”
I swallow down the anger of that fuck getting a dime out of me. “I agreed to pay for his medical bills.” And his silence.
“Leo.” It’s the first time my name has come out of her lips that I haven’t liked the tone. It’s filled with exhaustion and a hint of disappointment.
I kiss her to stop whatever she’s about to say. “It’s fine. It was my fault.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She takes a step back. “None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been there.”
“If we’re going down that line of thinking, it never would have happened if I hadn’t forced you to come out to some bullshit event to appease Daria. It happened, babe.” I frame her face with my hands. “But I’m here now, and everything is okay.”
“It doesn’t feel okay.” She cinches her hold around my waist. “I did a lot of thinking while you were gone. About us and the drama I’ve brought into your life. It isn’t fair to you.”
“Shhh, baby. No more talking tonight. I need you.” I kiss her again. Slowly, she melts in my arms and gives back everything I need to forget about tonight. I pick her up and start toward my room.
In the dark, I undress her slowly, kissing every inch of skin as I do it. Our movements are unhurried, drinking each other in and soaking in every moment. She runs her hands over my shoulders and down my back, drawing our bodies closer.
If I were a painter, I could use color and brushstrokes to bring her form to life with my eyes closed. If I were a rockstar, I’d sing the fuck out of some heartfelt lyrics that I wrote just for her. If I could take photos like her, I could show her just how beautiful she is. The twinkle in her eye when she’s feeling sassy, the color in her cheeks when she’s turned on, and that look of pure bliss as she lies naked beneath me.
Scarlett makes me wish I had all sorts of artistic skills. She deserves all that. I can’t show her what she means to me in any way other than loving every inch of her.
That’s exactly what I do. I make love to her for hours. We don’t say a lot, even as we shower afterward and climb into bed together. Sometimes there’s nothing to say.
Nah, I’m not an artist, but loving Scarlett feels like my masterpiece and I’m just getting started.
When my alarmgoes off for my run, only a few hours later, I groan and roll over to silence it before it wakes Scarlett, but when I open my eyes, she’s sitting up beside me, watching me sleep.
“Morning, gorgeous.”
“Hey,” she says softly.
I sit up and wrap my arms around her, placing a kiss on her shoulder. “What are you doing up already?”
“I need to get home.”
“At four forty-five in the morning?”
She gives me a sad smile that makes my heart hammer in my chest without warning. I hold her tighter and glance around. Her bag is already packed and sitting in the doorway.
“Don’t hurry off. Let’s shower, and I’ll make you some coffee.” I take her hand and hold it up, interlacing our fingers and placing a kiss on her thumb.
“No, that’s okay. Go on your run. I don’t want to mess with your routine. I just wanted to say bye before I left.”
“I can’t send you out into the world without coffee.” I stand and pull on a pair of shorts. “It isn’t safe for the other people.”
She laughs lightly and grabs her bag. “No, really. I have to go.”
“Okay. I’ll call you after practice. Do you want to grab lunch later?”
