She pulls back after a couple of minutes of public indecency. Before I have the willpower to, despite the fact I only had one drink at dinner, not however many glasses of wine it took to put this sloppy grin on her face.
Halfway to the pier where we left the speedboat we drove from the villa, Scarlett stops and slips off her shoes. And then she starts skipping toward the sand. Her brunette hair waves in the wind and her blue dress flies around her thighs.
For the first time since I met Scarlett, I think she looks carefree. Happy. The wine probably deserves more credit than I do, but I still claim some. Especially when we reach the sandy beach and she reaches out and tangles her fingers with mine. 揑 wish there were fireworks.?
揗aybe next time.?
揧ou抎 come back here??
揑f you want to.?
She stands and stares at me as the breeze blows her hair into a wild disarray. 揑t scares me.?
I feel my brow furrow. 揥hat scares you??
揌ow much I want to come back. How much I want厃ou.?
She immediately regrets the confession. I read it in how her shoulders tense. The way she looks away from me and out at the ocean instead.
揝carlett.?I step closer.
揥hat??
She still won抰 look at me, so I grip her chin and turn her face toward me. 揑 want you. I抣l always want you.?
Her face twists with disbelief. 揧ou don抰 know that. This will棓
I don抰 loosen my hold. 揑 do know that. You抮e my wife. I meant those vows. You抮e the only woman I抳e ever approached in a bar. I wouldn抰 have given anyone else my mother抯 ring. Risked a massive business contract because some drunk dick described how he would fuck her. You抮e different, Scarlett. You matter to me, Red. I抎 choose you over anyone. Anytime. Anywhere. Don抰 doubt that. Ever.?
揑 don抰 want you to matter.?The statement rings with a sincerity her words usually lack.
揑 know.?My response is instantaneous. But the words are filled with so much heat and longing, I expect them to leave scorch marks on my lips. I抦 not sure when we became this. When she started to matter so damn much.
揃ut you already do.?
揑 know that too.?
She shoves me. 揌ave a conversation with yourself, then.?Her tone has returned to the bossy one she usually uses with me.
I chuckle and pull her back to me. 揧ou get your fill of the beach??
She sighs and droops against me. 揧eah. I抦 tired.?
I scoop her up and carry her down the dock bridal-style.
揥hat are you doing??she murmurs.
揅arrying you.?
揇on抰 stop,?she instructs, her voice sleepy.
揑 won抰。？
揇on抰 give up on me.?
揑 won抰，？I repeat.
Scarlett is silent for the rest of the walk to the pier. She curls up on the boat抯 seat as soon as I lay her down. The drive back to the villa takes ten minutes. I tie the boat up and lift her again. Her arms loop around my neck as she snuggles her head beneath mine. The neediness should feel constricting. Instead, I savor it. I slow my steps as I climb the stone stairs and cross the backyard, delaying the inevitable destination.
Most of the villa抯 lights are on, shining through the darkness like a beacon. Scarlett blinks as we draw closer. Once we抮e through the front door, I set her down. And she starts undressing. Her shoes go flying first. Then she抯 twisting and yanking at the zipper of her dress. It falls, faced with her stubbornness. All of a sudden, there抯 a whole lot of skin on display.
I scrub a hand across my face as she strolls across the living room in nothing but a pair of matching pink lace.
Fuck. Me. Of course, this is the night she decides to give me a goddamn lingerie show.
And then that抯 gone too.
Words get stuck in my throat as she walks toward me, totally naked. 揥hy are you still wearing clothes??
揃ecause I抦 not drunk.?
揑抦 not drunk.?
揙kay,?I agree. Arguing with a drunk person is usually a fruitless exercise. Arguing with a drunk Scarlett would be like hitting my head against a brick wall: pointless and painful.
揑 want you to fuck me.?
Jesus Christ. I was in no way prepared for a proposition. Yeah, I definitely thought about this happening tonight, but not like this. Not when I have no idea what she抯 really thinking. Feeling. 揘ot like this.?
Annoyance flashes across her face, followed by hurt. It feels like a rusty knife. No matter what, we抮e never on the same page at the same time. 揑s it because I have to beg for it??
If she does, I抣l really lose it. 揊uck. No.?
Once again, I抳e said the exact wrong thing. 揋uess you won抰 be finding out what it抯 like to fuck your wife.?
She throws my own words at me and then stalks into the master bedroom, slamming the door behind her for good measure.