Page 44

Scarlett pulls back long enough to say, “Bedroom,” in a breathy gasp, before pressing her lips to mine once more.

I pull her back from the door, and she tightens her legs around me. Fuck. The faster I get her to the bedroom, the better. But as well as I’ve come to know this house, it doesn’t make dodging the errant toys dotted around the floor any easier. And there’s nothing less sexy than tripping over a toy horse.

When I finally make it to the stairs, I take them two at a time, crossing the hallway and into Scarlett’s bedroom. I pull back and take her in: her flushed skin, bright eyes, mussed-up hair. I press a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose, then her lips, before laying her down on the bed.

Her hair fans out around her on the pillows, and my heart skips. God, she’s so beautiful.

I kick off my shoes and kneel between her legs. Scarlett startles as I place my hand on her knee, dragging my fingers down her calf and gently tugging her left boot off. I do the same with her right, smiling at her socks—fuzzy, with little Christmas trees on them. Her eyes flutter closed, a sigh falling from her lips as I press my thumb against the arch of her foot. I can’t wait to find out all of the places that pull those happy sounds from her when I touch her.

Her breath quickens as I lean over her.

“You’re in charge here, Scar.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to be. I trust you.”

I consider her; she’s breathing hard and flushed everywhere I can see, and her brown eyes are practically black, but they’re clear.

“You’ll tell me if I’m moving too fast? If you don’t like something? Promise me.”

“Of course. I promise.” She reaches for me, her fingers trembling when they brush my face. “Please, Kill. Touch me,” she begs.

“Where, love?” I ask, trailing a finger along the neckline of her shirt. The word tastes entirely too good on my tongue, and Scarlett’s pupils flare.

“Everywhere.”

Fuck. The desperation in her voice is dangerous. I wind one of the strings tying her shirt together around my index finger, and pull. It comes away easily, undoing the bow and my resolve all at once. Because when Scarlett’s shirt falls to the side, revealing her bare chest, her stomach … God, I have to close my eyes and breathe deeply to fucking ground myself. How the hell didn’t I notice she wasn’t wearing a bra?

“You okay there?” she asks, an amused lilt in her voice.

“Mhmm. Just taking a moment to compose myself.”

She chuckles softly, moving below me, and I have to press my nails against my palm. A second later, I feel her sit up. She wiggles around and I curse.

“This is not helping me compose myself,” I gasp more than say it, jumping when Scarlett covers my hand with hers.

“I don’t want you composed.”

I open my eyes and meet hers, swallowing before letting my gaze trail down her body. Christ, she’s a goddamn wonder.

“Scar,” I whisper, because she’s knocked every other word right out of my head.

She has freckles dotted across her torso, and faded stretch marks over her skin, scattered like little lightning bolts. I draw my finger across a thin scar at the bottom of her stomach. She tenses, and my eyes snap to her face.

“James,” she says, quietly. “He refused to turn.”

I smile, and she seems to relax a bit. “Stubborn from the beginning. Sounds like him.” I skate the tip of my finger from the scar to a line of stretch marks. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I love these.”

There’s so much about her I don’t know, and her body tells stories I’m desperate to learn every detail of.

I bring my hand to the red jewel button at the front of her jeans and look up at her. She nods, her cheeks rosy and her eyes eager. By the time I undo the button and slide down her zipper, taking a deep breath at the flash of red lace below, Scarlett is already lifting her hips for me to pull her jeans off. I waste no time, pulling them down her legs and dropping them to the side.

The sight of her in nothing but Christmas socks and a scrap of red lace is my undoing. I sit back on my knees, just taking her in, letting the image of her take root and set up a permanent space in my memory.

“Kill?” Scarlett pushes up on her elbows to look down at me, uncertainty on her face. “Everything okay over there?”

“I think I’m having a religious experience, actually.”

A twinkly laugh falls from her mouth, and she kicks her foot playfully at me. Never one to waste an opportunity, I catch it and peel her sock off, then the other. I slide my palms up her legs, and Scarlett lets out a soft sigh, falling back against the bed.